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BPD My Before and Process to Healing



New member
Jan 17, 2020
Hays, KS
Hello all! I'm new here, but I am a veteran when it comes to knowing my borderline personality disorder and bipolar disorder comorbid diagnoses. I have had quite the journey, which has been painful, beautiful, ugly, resentful... words are not enough. Yet they are. I began my journey two years ago, shortly after I began seeing my now-fiancee, then-boyfriend. I had displayed all of the signs of BPD for as long as I could remember--I was a little boy when I first noticed the signs. I had the hallmarks: sexual promiscuity, emotional disregulation, impulsivity, and the worst (in my honest opinion): fear of abandonment. My journey began when I was sexually abused when I was three and compounded when my father would abuse me in my adolescent years. My mother was always working and was never around--my father has all of the signs of BPD but chooses to live in ignorant bliss. I would fight like hell for safety and security, assured by healthy individuals who thought I was resilient... they were wrong to a fault. I was resilient to physically hurting others, but I would engage in some of the same tactics that my father would use against my mother. I did this for 26 years and did not know why others were not overwhelmed by their emotions. I was curious as to how others could be the "cool customers" and process difficult circumstances. I was jealous, but I felt what I was experiencing was normalcy. I knew I had issues. Anorexia, Bulimia-Nervosa, anxious/RACING thoughts, feelings which were unstable, and paranoia constitutive of inpatient mental health treatment. Quite simply put: I was living in ignorant bliss similar to my father's ignorance.
When I was 25, I met a guy. He was my dream guy. Tall, red-headed, successful, well-connected. He wanted me. It was the most lucrative drug I have ever taken. I loved it. I hated it. I would question his every move and then demand more movement and meaning for our relationship. I never asked myself why, I only asked him why.
I would unlock his phone without his consent, ask questions that I had no business asking... I take full accountability for my shortcomings. Sure, he too played his part. BUT, this is about me and not him.
During my two and a half year relationship with him, I would go from questioning my sanity and my emotions one day, to questioning him and his sanity the next. I was inconsistent. I would expect of him, and expect change. I would impulsively have sex with others, lie, and cause more chaos and discord. It wasn't until I lost my job that I realized I was truly unstable. However, I was led to advocacy. The universe was sending me a sign: "Deal with your stuff!" I took the hint, applied, and was hired. BPD still raging, the employment I received gave me accountability and a chance to grow. My childhood never provided this structure.
I was still with my dream guy. I conformed to his ways. I practiced the Catholic faith with him (this was a jump, I never identified as Catholic in my life... practicing Catholicism for me was like a Buddhist committing murder). So, I stayed. I trimmed up my body when he remarked at my weight. I tried to change myself. I still wasn't done trying to change him. After many arguments, and after many months of finger-pointing, I reveled in an ah-ha moment and realized: I have to change my outlook on relationships, on life. This enlightenment came a little too late. Eventually, my promiscuity (and his) came to our attentions and he said he wanted space. He asked for a week. Then three. And eventually he broke up with me through text message.
Dagger to my bleeding heart. I grieved. I begged for him back. And then I would be entitled. I felt like I had caused it (which is existentially true), but I wasn't ready for that part of the grief process. Eventually, I gave up. I would have random flings. Drink heavily. Work out until my palms bled from holding weights. Shortly before I met my fiancee, I found out that he not only had left me for another man, but this other man was someone I call my "archenemy". It is so difficult to admit that I have a true enemy, but I do. And yes, I played a part in that, too.
Fast-forward half a year, it was 2018 and I was sitting in my psychologist's office. She pulled out the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM) V (5). I was familiar with this manual, yet no one had properly pin-pointed what was wrong. She was no fool, and saw through the layers. We discussed this at great length. BPD meant I was Glen Close from "Fatal Attractions". BPD meant I was out for blood, vengeance, and that I was a narcissistic abuser. Not completely wrong.
My experience with BPD is a love-hate relationship. I feel strongly, and this is a double-edged sword. I connect with others emotionally, and this is vulnerability for others but my norm. I am able to empathize deeply. When I feel, it's as if the world stops, my breathing is restricted, my heart is racing, and focus is a long-distant memory. When I'm angered, I rage. When I'm sad, I am distraught and melancholy. When I'm happy, I'm jubilant and I celebrate larger than life. When I've lost all hope, I slump for months (this is my comorbidity with bipolar depression/mania speaking in tandem). I'm Benjamin Button and Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde all-in-one package.
My psychologist gave me insight into my issue. I was not emotionally distraught, yet I was. "No medications for BPD." "I'm so overwhelmed I need help with my emotions! THEY DON'T STOP!" Madness. She gave me escitalopram (Lexapro) 10 milligrams. I'm still on the medication. I've stopped going to my therapy appointments, not because I think I'm better than therapy: my role in advocacy is currently healthy relationships and building emotional regulation in children. I learn while I teach. I advocate for those who are hurt the way I hurt others. I take accountability for the pain I've caused and no longer rage when I think of the pain that was done unto me. I'm not in the people-changing mindset anymore. I've given up my unhealthy habits, and though the medication has been unkind to my waistline: my mental health flourishes. My prison sentence is over. My life is 180 degrees from where it began.

I am enough. I am not my disorder. I have a personality. I am healing.


Well-known member
May 20, 2019
A very powerful and emotional story. Thank you for posting. I relate to so much of what you say. It would appear you have embraced Radical Acceptance and to stop your self destructive traits means that you have truly moved forward with your life. You no longer fear your emotions so have no need to detach from reality and give yourself the comfort of temporary relief. Be very very proud of your accomplishments and achievements. Well done you!