I think my life is falling apart

Lately my episodes have been worse. My temper shorter and my anxiety attacks longer. I can count the days on one hand where I haven’t been consumed by soul crushing sadness. Where I haven’t been left in my bed alone crying until no sound came out and my eyes swelled and my heart broke. Days where I pushed away the one person I need to feel safe. Instead of continuing to rise out of the hole my problems have made , I’ve hit a loose rock and fell back down, almost to the pit. I hate feeling like this. Crazy. Unbalanced and emotionally insane. Torn between feeling ecstatic everyday or painfully broken everyday. There is no in between. I try to hold off. To fight the impending darkness and waves but I can’t. It leaves me shaking and unraveling at the edges. Then he comes around. Like a sun spot to my rainstorm. But instead of accepting and embracing I push. I can’t let anybody see me this broken and damaged. I lash out and behave in ways I normally wouldn’t. Screaming and yelling as I cry and act irrationally. Pushing him away and yelling DONT TOUCH ME. I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU ANYMORE while in my head I’m confused on why my words and sounding like that. Almost like I’m watching somebody else pretend to be me. Wondering where this anger and sorrow is coming from. Crying while he holds me and calms me down. Asking what do I need to feel ok. How can he help make it go away. He knows I want to be ok. To be “normal” to be like everyone else. I didn’t ask for these problems. They just got progressively worse and the years wore on. I started to become this person I didn’t know. This angry person who pushed away everyone who wanted to love me. This anxious woman who panicked over everything. This depressed child who stopped eating and spent days in the dark sleeping because the world hurt too much for no reason.
The thing is I don’t know anymore . I’m scared. I’m scared to get help. Scared I won’t be myself anymore. I’ll be some shell of a girl pumped full of pills. To move through life in some kind of subdued, muted haze. Almost like walking through fog. I’d be ok but would I really be ok?
But I’m scared to continue on like this. To keep allowing myself to succumb to these attacks, these fits, these bursts of manic insanity. To keep pushing away the only man to love me other than my father. Scared I’ll end up alone because who wants to deal with a broken soul in a shattered shell?