Questioning My Experiences With Borderline Personality Disorder

Not but a few months ago, I was given a diagnosis that changed my life: borderline personality disorder. It explained so many bizarre parts of my lived experience, but it also scared the hell out of me. Even as a mental health professional, I didn’t truly have a good understanding of the disorder. So I read, and I asked questions, and I searched every mental health outlet I could find.

Today I have a much better, though not complete, understanding of why I am the way I am. Many people with BPD have traumatic experiences in their past. I would be one of them. In dealing with my past traumas, I often wonder if it really happened the way I remember. Was it really that bad?

The answer will always be yes, no matter the event.

But I often question these memories because of my diagnosis. BPD leads a person to feel everything to the highest capacity. Others would describe it as over-exaggerating everything. I prefer the former because the latter has led me to question my feelings of very difficult events.

Recently, I had a flashback to a time where a man was unusually friendly to me and it had my trauma senses tingling. I freaked out and ran away. The man, who happened to live in the apartment across from me, followed me and banged on the door for almost 10 minutes while I hid in the farthest corner of my apartment and called my dad.

Looking back, I wonder if that was paranoia, or if I did the right thing? Was it smart of me to call the police, or was I exaggerating?

Luckily for him, the police in that town were incredibly lazy and convinced me not to file a complaint.

Now, years later I look back and wonder if it was my BPD that affected me in those moments. Did I have the right to respond to any discomfort I felt? Absolutely. Did I take it too far? Not sure. Was I scared so bad I had anxiety attacks until the day I moved out for fear the man would come after me? Sure did!

Truth is, I reacted the way I felt was best at the time, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I acted the way I was supposed to. Who knows?

Regardless, I’ll likely question my reactions towards everything, which makes my anxiety even worse.

But I’ll manage. And that’s OK.