Vader, I’m your daughter #2 (and I’m the one who finds your lack of faith disturbing)
Borderline Personality Disorder 101
BPD is nothing worth much of your time through Wikipedia. I’ll tell you what it is — simply a list of symptoms. More specifically, these symptoms:
- An intense fear of abandonment, even going to extreme measures to avoid real or imagined separation or rejection;
- A pattern of unstable intense relationships, such as idealizing someone one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn’t care enough or is cruel;
- Rapid changes in self-identity and self-image that include shifting goals and values, and seeing yourself as bad or as if you don’t exist at all;
- Periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality, lasting from a few minutes to a few hours;
- Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, reckless driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating or drug abuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship;
- Suicidal threats or behavior or self-injury, often in response to fear of separation or rejection;
- Wide mood swings lasting from a few hours to a few days, which can include intense happiness, irritability, shame or anxiety;
- Ongoing feelings of emptiness;
- Inappropriate, intense anger, such as frequently losing your temper, being sarcastic or bitter, or having physical fights.
If you fit into 5/9, you’re considered a Borderline. There was a time I used to fit 9/9, all at once. Right now, on the worst days, I fit 5/9, sometimes even less. So this is not a moment, but an ongoing feeling. Another thing about BPD — it is incurable. The most common causes are brain anomalies, and genetics — you usually inherit it from someone in the family who suffers from it, or from similar disorders. That’s it, as simple as that. These symptoms are very random and quite common, if we’re to be honest. The one thing that’s not as common is having most of them happen to you at the same time, most of the time.
According to my doctor, it never really goes away, not completely. Most women diagnosed with BPD who try therapy reach their 40’s with barely any symptom. That’s almost twice my age, which is discouraging. But I am getting better every day. And that’s because those mood swings, sometimes, will swing favorably. And that long battle, which is something you have to fight every day, becomes a routine you get used to. It’s a long process, but trust me when I tell you that the more you do it, the less it hurts.
For me, BPD started manifesting from a very early age, but it was not until 22 that I was diagnosed. That was less than a year ago. I will write a post about diagnosis, because it implies talking about depression, anxiety, misdiagnosis, and a lot of that stuff, and since there’s not a lot of talking about BPD, that’s what I’d like to focus on right now.
The day I was diagnosed, everything made sense. Even the tiny stuff that used to bother me without me ever realizing why.
I never felt like I had a true self. Fixed personality was never a thing for me. That’s why I thank Lana del Rey for that amazing prologue where she talks about chameleon souls. That’s me, all the way. I used to say that I’m very urgent, and that still applies. I go from love to hate and hate to love in seconds. There’s no in between with my feelings. At the same time, I’m always confused about what I feel. It’s very hard for me to talk about what it, and for me to know what I really want. It’s just that when I want something, I have to get it right away. Which leads us to impulsiveness, and to risky behaviors.
The same thing applies to my self-image: I’m both the kind of person that’ll wear fancy clothes and training suits — the same day. And yes, a sense of style is important, it helps you shape your personality. I now accept that, and that’s why being diagnosed helped me. I used to feel like I didn’t belong anywhere — now I know I don’t have to, and I know I’ll probably never be able to, and I accept and embrace that. I embrace that. I don’t worry about it anymore, and that helped my self-esteem in unimaginable ways. As I write this, in my pajamas, I’m comfortable with who I am. And a few days ago, I spent more that thirty minutes doing my make-up just to go to the pharmacy — and that’s as much progress as it can be. I will get on my best clothes and still wear Harry Potter socks. I buy t-shirts in the men’s section if I like them. The more I learned how to deal with this, the more I stopped caring about what other people thought, and the more I started feeling comfortable being myself. These are not fashion statements because I don’t have any statement I want to make, except — wear what the fuck you want and feel comfortable with.
I think I might be conveying a wrong image of myself. Don’t get me wrong — I still care a lot about these things, but instead of trying to comply with social standards, I try to meet my own. I care about the way I look, and my confidence comes from that. I care about the way I should look at certain events, if I dress properly, etc, but now I just do it according to my own codes and to my mood. I respect myself in that matter. Of course, I can’t control everything, and there are days my mood swings so many times, I’ll get self-conscious about the clothes I’m wearing without any specific reason.
Also, I wish I didn’t have to mention this, but we live at a time where it can’t be ignored. And that’s social media. I still care quite a lot about what I post online. And I actually have mixed feelings about this. (if you want a specific example, the first Vader, I’m your daughter rested in the drafts page for more than eight months). There are days I want to delete all my personal social media accounts, and sometimes I even plan on doing it. And then I change my mind because I actually like to share stuff with people. It’s irritating, but it’s how it is, and I accept it. That’s why InstaStories is awesome — you post in small doses of 24h of duration. It also scares me that I’m this dependant — we all know that everything we write and post is going to be on the internet forever, yet we can’t stop. I just go from 5–10 post per day to complete social silence. I just try not to think about it that much. And I do know this is quite usual, but this is just a practical example of what my daily routine feels like, because these kinds of stuff happen with… well, almost everything, to be honest.
This is a battle I’m fighting with myself. And there’s no right or wrong side — there’s only the better and the worse. And sometimes, worse seems best, and better seems the worst. The worst is always bad. That’s why sometimes it’s easier to focus on the small stuff. Just get a grip on the situation. Just have some control.
There are times I get so mad, it’s like I’m going on a fever. My blood boils up to the point I think I might explode. There are moments of pure hate. And most of those moments all start with an innocent thought. Then it starts to develop into something that makes me angry at the world, at people, leaves me hopeless. When I feel like this, I like to blame BPD itself — these are the only moments I get really frustrated for having a diagnosis. I never actually break anything or engage in violent behavior (even though there have been times, in the past, where I have). Sometimes I really retreat from reality, and I suddenly have to find arguments to convince myself this is not a simulation. I usually just figure out no one would put in all this work just to conspire against me. But it gets quite real. I then think everyone will end up laughing at me for being naive. It goes away slowly when I get reassurance from people around me without them noticing.
When I told my parents about BPD, my father had the same reaction I did — it explained a lot. There were days I would lose it at the dinner table. There were days I was like a bomb about to explode. I was impatience, I was tired, at times I couldn’t even stand people talking to me. And this drifted between moods, and everything was a trigger. Words, actions, and external things, mostly. I can’t say it doesn’t affect me anymore, but I built a shield against most of these. Life teaches you how to. I was cold in the way I talked to people, without even noticing (I still am). I’m aware I must’ve been toxic, even. I’m glad I got all better. My social skills still suck, but at least not as much as they did.
Stabilizing is a funny thing. As I’ve mentioned before, I went through a period of deep depression, which lead to my diagnosis. Depression is a very complex topic. It took a lot from me. But now that I’m stable, I can see it from another perspective. And when it comes to hope… I both have it and I don’t. Right now, as I write this, I have hope. Sometimes I dream about things crumbling down, I wake up and lay in bed for a few minutes picturing the worst case scenario, and then I can clear my mind. So, yes. If you wonder if it gets better… it does get better. But first it gets a lot worse. Up until you’re willing to do something for yourself, it’ll get a lot worse. But you’ll survive. All the way. All the way.
