Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). A condition characterized by difficulties in regulating emotion. Caused by genetics, environmental factors and brain function. Treated with psychotherapy and medications. Difficult to diagnose and treat. Often under-diagnosed or misdiagnosed.
My Nonna passed away when I was seven. That was it. That was my traumatic experience that sent me spiralling into this mess of a life I can barely keep up with. Her passing messed me up in so many ways I can’t even explain. It tore me to pieces.
So I guess I got dealt a bad hand then huh. How convenient? I mean, thank god I got BPD instead of some other horrible and incurable disease. Really appreciate this one. HAHAHA.
BPD is not better than other mental illnesses or easier to live with than cancer or other diseases no one deserves to have. NO. It’s hell. It’s unbearable. I am NOT making myself look like I am a hero in anyway, or better than anyone else, because I’m not. I’m a 5’2, broke, 20 year-old university student that has an issue with everything.
I’m serious when I say everything. I can barely get out of bed somedays to make it to class or go to the gym. I also have no motivation to do anything except lie in bed and scroll through Instagram, looking at how pretty everyone’s life looks on a screen. And the worst part, I have no self-control when it comes to food.
I don’t know how many times I have looked in the mirror at my reflection and hated what I was looking at. Or how many times I’ve looked down at my body while sitting or standing and felt like a fat, wadded up clump of toilet paper and an overstuffed turkey. Upsetting, I know. I cringe at the sight of myself some days.
With no self-control and no limits, I eat until I am practically bursting at the seams; full of self-hatred, guilt and disgust in myself. I feel sick to my stomach saying this, but the truth is the truth. Food is my weakness. The shame that I have in saying that out loud on a public forum is consuming me entirely. I have never addressed this part of my illness before. I’m afraid this will change your perspective of me.
When I’m lucid, I feel decently alright. I can perform simple tasks like get out of bed, make coffee, go to school, do assignments, socialize with people in a limited manner, those sorts of things. It’s not the best I can feel, but it’s something.
When I’m in an episode, my world is upside down and nothing makes sense. My brain shuts down and I can’t think straight. Delirium sets in and I am hazy and unfocused; wild if you wish to call it that. Everything happens so fast, and I have no control over what I will do or say. The speed at which my adrenaline pumps is unreal. Emotions are screaming all around me and inside my body, making it difficult for me to function properly.
My episodes are far from simple and short-lived. They are physically and emotionally draining. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck most days. I sometimes feel as if I am incomplete, as if there is a piece of me that is missing. It’s a weird feeling, but it’s present in almost every episode. I have yet to figure out what that feeling really is and what it means but I guess that’s for another blog post. I’ll keep you updated.
Being in recovery is scary for me. I don’t know when I’ll have good days or bad days; I don’t know how I’ll feel in the next ten minutes; I don’t know if my medications are working or not; I don’t know anything really. It’s tough sometimes but I guess I’m managing. If this is managing then I guess I’m not doing that bad right?
This feeling of uncertainty all the time is off-putting. I mean trying to make plans for the day? Forget it. There’s no way I’ll feel the same as I did in the morning as when the plans are scheduled for. Maybe I will, but sometimes I won’t.
This sucks I know, please don’t remind me how much it sucks. It hurts me to see how much it affects others too, especially my family. It happens more often with them than anyone else and it’s awful to see their faces fall when I say that I don’t want to go or that I don’t feel well enough to go.
See, the thing is, it’s not that I don’t want to spend time with people or do adventurous things or talk to new people and be social with everyone. It’s that I can’t. I mentally and emotionally can’t do those things. It’s hard for me to do those things and I feel like such a failure because of it. I mean, everyone else can do it so why can’t I? Why do I have to have the emotional issues? THIS SUCKS.
I want out. I have suffered enough. I mean, being in recovery is a step towards getting better but it’s not being better. How long does recovery last? A few months? A year? Two years? Longer? WHY DOES IT TAKE SO LONG TO GET BETTER? WHY DID THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME?
I have so many questions that I want answered but no one can answer them for me. I can’t even answer them myself which feels like another failure on may part. This doesn’t prove inspiring for me either. I just wish knew. I wish, I wish…
For more information about BPD, check out these links I found. They’re very useful:
Also, these two books are good reads on BPD:
- The Borderline Personality Disorder Survival Guide: Everything You Need To Know About Living With BPD, by Alexander L. Chapman, Kim L. Gratz.
- The Buddha and the Borderline: My Recovery From Borderline Personality Disorder through Dialectical Behaviour Therapy Buddhism and Online Dating by Kiera Van Gelder.