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On the Days I 'Lose' to Borderline Personality Disorder

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I have borderline personality disorder (BPD). It is incurable, but it is treatable with counseling, therapy and medication. It’s scary, and every day I have to fight to keep control of my own mind. Some days I win, some days I lose. I would like to walk you through one day I did not win.

I get up in the morning, and I’m normal. Calm and under control. I get dressed, do my hair, put on makeup. I’m ready to run some errands. I feel good. My makeup looks great, and I feel confident in my outfit.

Then I have a meltdown known as “splitting.” I split over something that most people wouldn’t even bat an eye over. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s usually something stupid. Something random that triggers me. Sometimes a trigger I didn’t even know I had. A word spoken in the wrong tone. An action I feel is dismissive. Usually, whomever I feel has hurt me doesn’t even realize they’ve done it.

I cry, I scream. I can’t control myself. I hate myself. I hate everyone else. I hate BPD. I can’t think. I can only cry or scream, or curl up in a ball. I’ve undone all the work I put into getting ready. Why did I bother? What was the point of pretending to be “normal?” I should know that my BPD controls me. My actions convey the exact opposite of what I want, what I need. I push everyone away, but inside my head I’m begging, please, don’t leave me. Please, hold me. Love me.

I can’t run errands, I’m exhausted to the point of almost being catatonic. It takes so much out of me. Physical touch calms me down faster than anything else, but I can’t figure out how to ask for it. It’s not that I’m too proud, too angry, too stubborn to ask for help. I simply can’t. I’ve forgotten how.

I disassociate. My boyfriend hugs me, pulls me into him, kisses me. He tries to comfort me. My body is like a rag doll. I’m not in there anymore. I can’t get out of my head and I’m barely aware of what’s going on around me.

Eventually I come back. I’m embarrassed, ashamed. I feel terrible for the way I acted, for who I hurt. I’m scared. I’m scared out of my mind every time this happens, that my boyfriend, my Favorite Person, will leave me. He will eventually have enough of it. Who wouldn’t?

The rest of the day is a chore to get through. I’ve ruined the day again. For myself, there is little chance I will be in a good mood at all for the rest of the day.  I’ve ruined the day of everyone around me, and I can’t fix it. It’s all my fault.

My body so heavy, it’s so hard to move. My shoulders are slumped over. I don’t have the energy for this. I can’t even run a simple errand. It’s depressing that this disorder has such a hold on me.

Most days are good, with medication, counseling and support. But some days are a war with myself. A bloody battle that no one wins.

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Image via Thinkstock. 

Originally published: December 28, 2016
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