When You Don’t Know Who You’ll Be Anymore After Recovering From BPD

I identify as borderline more than anything else. More than being a woman, bisexual, a daughter, an aunt or a sister. Before I am anything else I consider myself borderline.

I think that’s why recovery scares me so much. What will I be if I’m not borderline anymore? I have a lot of identifiers — as we all do — but borderline is the one I feel is most true.

Everything I have ever done is because I’m borderline. Every lie, every cut, every attempt, every cheat, every broken heart, every sexual encounter and all 10 years of treatment. At the end of the day, every move I make can be explained by this disorder.

I spend all day in borderline thought cycles. The what ifs, the maybes, the whys, the yes’s, the no’s. Every time I agree to go somewhere or decide to bail. Every decision I make is thought through the borderline pathways in my brain. It’s all ingrained.

What would I be without that? Without those pathways? Would I be “normal?” Would I have decent thoughts? Self esteem? Hope?

Would I need therapy? Could I handle crisis? What is handling crisis? Would I finish school? Could I finish school? Would I achieve my dream of being a therapist? Would I even want to do that anymore?

Recovery leaves everything unknown. Recovery means starting over new and making new paths. And that is terrifying.

All the work and effort it would take, can I even do that?

Do I even want to?

I think starting new would be scary for anybody, but recovery means leaving the only person I know how to be.

How does a person do that?

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