Series

My Borderline | Part 3

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Posted by Maria

I would like to take a few moments in these three installments regarding the topic and talk a little bit about Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), and what it means (for me anyway) to have it. There are many great videos (such as this one) and other sources (such as this site that outlines the diagnostic criteria for BPD) that have ample information about the disorder, and I urge you to check out at least the video I linked if you have any interest in the topic. That being said, I’d prefer a more sort of hands-on approach and talk about BPD from a not-so-clinical point, and more from the view of one having this ailment. To answer the question: What does it feel like to be Borderline?

DISCLAIMER: Contains talk of self-harm and suicide. This is entirely my experience of BPD. We don’t all manifest symptoms in the same way, instead, we all have our individual experience of the disorder, even with the objective criteria that need to be met to be diagnosed with it. Our ticks, their intensity, the type of Borderline we can have (check out this article from Healthline), and other things are most likely going to vary based on the individual you are around. 

Eat the World

If you read the last post in this series, you might be thinking “Why does she have to get approval from the husband to buy candy anyway?” Well, my friend, let me educate you on one of the hardest hurdles in my life – mass consumption of things that are not good for me (Be it media, social interactions, or things I can shovel into my gullet).

Us borderlines have a sort of erratic behavioral pattern. We swing from side to side and up and down with reckless abandon. There is not much we can do about it when it is happening and the emotions are laying down the laws of chaos – except to try and soothe it somehow. What this means is that often we develop some habits like self-harm… and in my case, binge eating, taking medicines for no reason, and using alcohol to both numb the void/pain and to make peace with my online friends, as I got told I’m more fun when I’m drunk.

These three methods of coping led me into a place where I was drinking and steadily falling into the alcoholic range, taking some off-the-grid painkillers my ex’s mother gave us while gorging on mega bags of chips, popcorn, bars of chocolate… you name it. It is no wonder I got to the hefty weight of 130 kilos before my husband became the break I so desperately needed in my life.

The rules at the beginning of our journey were strict. I was to cut off all sweets and snacks (which he did with me). Eventually, we stopped having caffeine, and recently I made the decision to stop with the alcohol drinking altogether. What comes to medications, my husband has full control of the pills in the house, my urges of taking them for no reason make it nigh impossible for me to deal with them by myself. Especially with the sort that makes me fly on another plane of existence for a moment. Antipsychotics, I’m looking at you!

Falling from Grace

Splitting is a fun term to think about, and I don’t know how many of the general population has to actually ever use it in this context. Splitting is the sharp and completely out of hand ability of us borderlines to go from black to white, and back. Let me give you an example.

I love my husband dearly, and sometimes I pretty much worship the ground he walks on. He can do no wrong, he means no harm, he is an angel sent from the heavens to save me from the darkness. He will forever protect me and take care of me so that nothing will ever again come to crush my already broken heart.

But.

He told me I am emotional. How dare he?! Who does he think he is, gaslighting me and trying to manipulate me?! My feelings are legitimate, valid, and I have all the right to be upset about this! I wish he would get lost, go on a walk and never come back. Un-fucking-believable the audacity of this toxic, narcissistic, manipulative little man. I… I hate him.

I snap out of it. Eventually. Maybe I’ve screamed at him for an hour or two. Maybe he went for a walk. Maybe I stormed off. Maybe… If I was lucky enough, maybe I managed to stop. 

You see, splitting makes me forget everything other than what I am currently thinking. The strong idealization, holding people up to ludicrous standards… And the person inevitably failing to meet those standards, dooming them to be the devil I knew they were. I do not envy my husband, even if I do have my chaos under more control these days. All the times I wished for bad things to happen… It makes me shiver.

Another part of splitting and borderline as a whole for me is the aspect of being paranoid. When I am in my fits, I truly believe that my husband’s sole motive is to hurt me. To get under my skin, and to make sure I get pounded to the ground so hard I’ll never get up. I believe that he does not love me (despite him telling me every day multiple times how he loves me truly, with his amazing smile and the twinkle in his eyes) and that he will leave me as everyone else did. 

This paranoia looms heavily on our lives, and it stems from my past. The times I’ve been mistreated all pile up in these moments of turmoil, and are reflected back onto my husband. He becomes the worst traitor on the planet, destined to break me apart. He has to since everyone else took their shot too in the end.

Paranoia is a bitch, I’m not going to lie. It makes it hard to know the true state of being from my perceptions. And oh boy, I have some severe case of flooding scenarios in my head most days. Thankfully, these scenarios have started to be kinder and more optimistic. Maybe my husband loves me after all!

This has been the third (and for now, final) part of the mini-series explaining how my Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) manifests itself in my life. I would love to answer all of your questions regarding BPD in future installments, so feel free to leave them in the comments!

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