All Quiet on the Borderline

I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and I hate it! I got the diagnosis 7 years ago amid one of the worst times in my life. The diagnosis gave me a lot of relief, I wasn't just going mad, I had a real illness that could be controlled, with help. I was started on medication and put on the waiting list for therapy and so my journey to recovery began. I started seeing a clinical psychologist who worked on my schemas, she helped me learn to rationalise and put things in perspective. We drew up a timeline and explored my core beliefs, I didn't even think I had those hidden depths! I moved on then to have a Community Psychiatric nurse who came to see me at home, we didn't really do much therapying, more exploring my thoughts and feelings in a real world setting. I got mental health support workers who'd drop in to my home to see me, offer some motivation and keep a track record of my ups and downs so that I could be monitored for an upcoming major crisis or depression. I now have a Recovery Nurse that comes to see me every month and two support workers who alternate each week once a week. I did attend an Anxiety Management course during the later stages of my 4th pregnancy, and to be really honest, it was a load of crap, I knew more about anxiety management than the person holding the course!

So here I am, 7 years later, living with Borderline Personality Disorder. I was diagnosed with Dyscalculia (numerical Dyslexia) and Dyspraxia (co-ordination processing disorder) when I was 17 and failing my first year of A-levels for the second time. As an Introverted person I suffer from extreme Social Anxiety that I can't control at times. I also have an unofficial diagnosis of Auditory Processing Disorder to go along with my poor hearing. Oh yes, and I have osteoarthritis. Basically I'm falling apart both mentally and physically. But it's OK, I'm still here and my children and fiancé love me, I have a mum and dad that are proud of me, a little sister who doesn't need me any more because she's all grown up and trusts us to be OK a few thousand miles apart, we actually found our way back to each other just before she left for the States, it's all good. I have a Grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins just a phone call or a social media message away. I have made friends! I have discovered friends I made in school who still think I'm alright, who always thought I was alright. I have even become close acquaintances with people who thought I was decidedly odd in school.

One of my stumbling blocks to recovery is this damned intelligence I have. Academically speaking I am highly intelligent. I can learn almost anything and apply it to everyday life, my common sense is a bit of a let down, I seem to have the creativity of an amoeba that suddenly flares to that of super nova intensity for all of a few minutes and then exhausts me. I don't know what motivation is other than a chore... But I know it all, there are days I wish for ignorance, not knowing would hurt so much less. Not understanding would motivate me because it wouldn't seem so god-damned hopeless. Knowing that some of my illness is physiological and that no amount of therapy or medication will rewire my brain is frustrating to the extreme. 

As a Borderline I have a screwy Hippocampal to Amygdala communication. I am constantly in Fight, Flight, Flock and Freeze mode, did you know you can manage to combine a few of those in one go in a crisis!? Every emotion I have is extreme, I don't know what mild embarrassment feels like I go immediately to shame and humiliation. And then I can't calm down. Some one recently compared a Borderline to an old fashioned whistling kettle you boil on a burner. It whistles when it boils so you take it off the heat but the whistling doesn't cease for a while afterwards. Many Borderlines self-harm to release those overwhelming feelings. This is something I used to do by cutting myself just a little. And then I realised I could make everything stop if I cut deeper and that's when the suicide attempts started. These were not cries for attention or help, just wanting it to stop, to go away!

These days I just muddle on through the best I can. I have a wonderful fiancé who understands that it's hard for me to even get out of bed. It's not that he's not good enough for me, it's not that his love and patience can't break through the veil of stress and depression. It can and does or I wouldn't get out of bed, but for the need to look after the children. He takes those metaphorical steps backward from my tantrums, sees through to the core of the rage, it's not the personal stuff that's spewing out of my mouth, it's the emotional stew boiling over my too small pot. He's not superman, he gets hurt by what I do and say from time to time, he argues back and steps over the threshold of my stress tolerance level making me go bang. But he's still here, he's still right beside me fighting for my recovery, whatever that means. The man deserves a medal, hell he deserves and OBE! And me? Well my next step is some Mindfulness training. I will always have to contend with the overwhelming feelings and emotions, I will always have to bite my tongue, I will always have to force myself to think positively, so I will always be exhausted. But life is worth it now. I know I have friends and family that would miss me if I wasn't here. I have accumulated vast amounts of knowledge in certain areas that I can impart for the betterment of others. I have training that can make a difference in other people's lives and I have the opportunity to use it. I have people that are proud enough of me to make me proud of myself. I have a decent network of very strange people that make me feel normal. Together we'll all make it through our own personal struggles that we face every day. All I can say to those of you helping me through mine is thank you, I appreciate you, crappy song swaps and all, OK, Ke$ha's not too bad! Give yourselves all a big virtual hug from me and remember I'll be here for you too.