I came at it from a different side. I had been marked as "bad" by my middle and HS teachers. That label was further cemented by 3 arrests while in HS. So my parents were inclined to agree. I was thrown out of one parent's house then the other when I finished HS. During HS I kept going to the doctor for physical symptoms that felt real but weren't. They kept giving me stuff like Vicodin, Codeine and Valium. I was a heavy marijuana user so I didn't have any problem with that but having to research symptoms only left me as a hypochondriac which are despised by doctors and psychiatrists (for psych stuff it's called malingering). It's often done to score drugs, but that wasn't why I kept going. Though sometimes drugs are a motivation to get me to the doctor. I have a bad cold or bronchitis and this past Friday I went to the doctor because dry cough has gotten me Codeine syrup in the past but it didn't work. My psychiatrist gives me my fun pills now.
Back when I was still considered a juvie who recently turned 18 my symptoms got worse and worse but nobody would listen to me. My parents were convinced I was on mushrooms and that it would wear off. I got really good grades in High School without ever trying but I was a million miles from being able to go to college. Community College was of no interest to me at the time and I was on probation and the local state school didn't interest me either. One day I was feeling extra screwy (it would kind of come and go) I walked past a cop car, the cop looked at me and I just booked it, running for my life. I had no reason to run. I was picked up and thrown in the psycho slammer that was a more like a jail than a hospital. Both in the way it was run and by the types of people there. I kept trying to escape. They kept strapping me to beds and banging me in the neck with 2mg Ativan and 100mg Thorazine. I hated it there so I was ask for my chemical cocktail at the front desk and they would oblige. So I was basically high the whole time there. My severe symptoms subsided after several months but I had Rx's for some strong mental numbing. I took tons more Ativan than I was prescribed and I would shoplift booze until I turned 21. So I basically blacked/blocked out a couple years.
The silver lining of it was that my family began to accept me slowly and not see me as a delinquent. I ended up moving from the city and going to work for my uncle, went to Community College then University. I made amazing friends and had relationships with people who never would've guessed I had the past or diagnosis I did, until I told them. I also self selected some mentally ill and druggie non-student friends for relationships. It was them and me that affirm that folks with extreme PDs aren't just a bit quirky, because I saw what they put themselves through and I saw a few get better and many who didn't. Some who got better would go back to shrinks to scrub out their previous diagnosis for a more palatable one.
I was with one girl, a student, who mentioned a lot of the stuff you did about wanting to figure herself out, but with different symptoms. She ended up having bipolar and BPD. I've been in a few relationships with girls with BPD. I tend to think they're attachment gives INTPs free reign to bounce goofy ideas off and add their own ones.
Sometimes depression/anxiety folks get the short end of the stick because their issues seem pretty vanilla, and the average person can relate to them in a non clinical way whereas with me, they can't. I haven't had any severe "classic" positive symptoms in many years. I just have the flat affect and what they call "negative" symptoms. I seem much more like your garden variety lazy inept INTP, with a smattering of recreational drug use, than a schizo. I certainly don't seem like the criminal I may have become. I like it that way. If you read this far, thanks for reading. You could probably wrangle up a label if you wanted to but it seems like you don't and that's probably a good thing. Having a label doesn't grant you any solace. All it does is have professionals tell you things you can't possibly ever do, ways in which you suck and always will, and that doesn't make up for any excuse for the things you don't do. Nobody in the world likes excuses anyway. Especially when it comes to mental health diagnoses. Congrats on being married. That's a very successful normal person thing to be. The fact you mean that much to someone speaks to your prowess in life in general.