I've heard that story before, and I relate to it too. I guess I push the limits. Once I was driving home after therapy - it was a 3 1/2 hour drive then (now it's 2 1/2), and I noticed that I had a little less than a quarter of a tank, and it was 80 miles of nothing to get to the next town. My car is supposed to get 40 mpg, and I figured I had about 2 gallons, so I didn't get gas. I made it, and when I got home I wrote to T about what I did, and she was not impressed. I guess that's a metaphore for life too. Always pushing the edge. I meet the criteria for bpd too, although none of the therapist I have gone to have wanted to diagnose it. It might limit my career options. But I say call it what it is. Yup, pushing the edge again. And I know that labels are not particularly helpful, but there I go collecting them.