Changing Your Own Story with Borderline Personality Disorder: For my friends with a highly stigmatized diagnosis

by Anna Torre

Listen to Executive Director Gabriel Nathan read this post aloud:

(Your opinions of me are triggering)

I went to get drinks with my two closest girlfriends recently. I was reeling off a conflict with my boyfriend from earlier that day and was struggling to put my mind elsewhere. Regardless, I chose to head out that night for a good time.

My conversations with my boyfriend from earlier that day ended in me leaving his home unplanned the morning after Valentine’s day, then sending a long message expressing what I needed from our relationship, which I asked him to think about before we next spoke. All this led to a disruption to our normal routine and communications as a couple. I had since been enduring a non-stop cycle of various thoughts and feelings, alternating between emotions of deep hurt, feeling proud of myself for knowing and clearly stating my needs, intense fear that the relationship may be over—(it’s not)—and the nagging question with twangs of guilt and shame that, despite any evidence, maybe I had acted unfairly towards him or had done him wrong.

I met my two girlfriends at a mutual friend’s home, someone I was meeting for the first time. It was refreshing to meet a new person, to talk about random crap, and to see the smiling faces of my two close friends. Despite still being upset and afraid in regard to the conflict, I began to enjoy myself.

This woman who was hosting us had started to tell stories about her ex-wife. They had recently divorced. From the stories she was telling, it seemed her ex-wife was truly awful, like this woman put her through hell and back throughout their marriage. I was empathic, and I was grateful she felt comfortable divulging these important anecdotes to me, given we had only met that night. Furthermore, having endured an abusive relationship myself in the past, I was finding comfort in the reminder that my own pain and conflict with my current partner are relative.

“Yeah,” she continued, “I think she [my ex-wife] has borderline personality disorder or something.”

My face dropped. My mood flipped back to doom.

I have heard it before, and I will hear it again. Does this woman’s abusive ex-partner meet the criteria for borderline personality disorder? It’s irrelevant. It’s irrelevant because, either way, the implications of her statement are clear. My diagnosis is used synonymously with “a bad person you should probably avoid.”

The double-sided coin of diagnosis

Diagnoses can be helpful; supportive, if not life-saving.

Receiving my diagnosis put a name to the immense suffering I have been experiencing for years. Ironically, it reassured me that I am not crazy: that my pain is real, so real that there are millions of other people facing similar challenges. This was a huge relief.

My diagnosis aided me in accepting my trauma. It’s guided me to accept my hurt, accept what I can and cannot change, and to reconcile my past with my present as I continue to learn through life. But, most importantly, I have been able to gain access to the most effective therapies for me. I have also found a community of people just like me who suffer, cope, and find hope in similar ways.

Diagnoses can also be incredibly hurtful. There is a severe lack of everyday success stories in mainstream media. You’d be hard-pressed to find anything telling you that yes, you can do it. Seriously, Google search something—anything—positive about your diagnosis. It’s really hard to find.

In everyday interactions and discussions online, I only hear my diagnosis referenced when talking about people who are crazy, broken and abusive. Even the material written by professionals and clinicians meant to educate me has a grim air to it; while my symptoms and I can be “managed,” I am apparently a life-long risk nonetheless. At best, I need to be watched and dealt with, a temporary joy before you must handle the real me, and at worse, I am a danger to society comprising something less than human.

“Stepping out from the clinical discussion, let’s just add that borderline folks are dangerous in relationships and must be avoided.”

– Anonymous commenter (“Yep,” someone else responded).

“BPD individuals have short relationships that last months at best”

– Anonymous writer

My personality—the core of who I am—is apparently “disordered,” “not normal,” “unhealthy,” “morally wrong.” A diagnosis seemingly intended to help and support me has been generalized to imply someone who is messed-up, concerning, and reprehensible; bound to suffer. Through a label given to me years ago, every day I live with this reminder.

Why this matters to me

I detail this to emphasize and relate to others who know that, when everywhere you look, people seem to think you are an ongoing problem, it really, really starts to get to your head. Viewing ourselves through the lens of our diagnosis, while helpful in ways, can narrow our sense of self to where we don’t see much beyond the diagnosis. For those of us trying to build better self-esteem, this is counter-productive.

I already have deep worries about my abilities to be a good friend, partner, and person. When others seem to agree with me based on a label I received, without knowing the first thing about me as a person, it hurts. It validates my worries and scratches at my deepest fears. I go about my day wondering and worrying that maybe these people are right. I feel stunted and awkward in my interactions with my friends and my partner thinking, “When am I going to mess this one up?” Yes, my behavioral and emotional tendencies check some boxes that make me similar to the array of people with whom I share a diagnosis. At the same time, I am a well-intentioned person, and I reject the implied notion that I am bad, a burden, or that I cannot change.

(Rewrite your own story)

In a world that looks down on us and sees us as a perpetual issue, we may need to take the generation of hope, healing, and self-respect into our own hands.

A helpful start for me was ‘Rewriting my own narrative.’ It takes between 5 and 10 minutes at most (maybe more, if you start crying like I did). It is a very useful start in retraining your brain to see yourself as a whole person rather than a perpetual subject of treatment that needs “fixing.”

(Instructions)

First, write your “story” in a way a doctor or clinical professional might write it, but from the first-person. You’re writing your own story, but using clinical language and terms. It can be as long or as short as you would like.

Here is mine:

“I have felt different from other people from an early age. For as long as I can remember, I have experienced low self-worth and fluctuations in my identity and sense-of-self. I was always emotionally unstable, and as I got older, I began to lash out through impulsive behaviors such as reckless driving, substance use, and sex. After a bad break-up when I was 20, I struggled to regulate my emotions, engaged in threats to harm myself, and, as a result, I was hospitalized.

I then stayed at an inpatient rehabilitation center for four months. When I was 22, I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. While I am currently mentally stable and have not experienced any severe mental health crises as of recent, I still struggle with paranoia, emotional regulation, and desires to act impulsively. Furthermore, I am still working on maintaining healthy relationships and healthy self-esteem.”

(Part 2: Rewriting the story)

Next, rewrite the same exact story in ‘layman’s’ terms. Avoid using any words that a clinician might use such as “paranoia,” “disassociation,” “disorder,” “delusion,” or “dis-regulated.” Furthermore, avoid any terms, phrases, or language used in diagnostic criteria (i.e., “mania” or “grandeur“), including the name of your diagnosis itself. Pretend you have never been diagnosed, and write as if you are someone who knows nothing about clinical psychology or mental illness. Pretend you are summarizing your life story to a 13-year-old with a very simple vocabulary.

Writing this version may take longer.

Here is mine:

“For as long as I can remember, I have had had difficulty accepting myself and difficulty understanding how I fit into this world. I have very deep, intense emotions that are often stronger than others’. Big feelings just seem to affect me more.

Because the feeling of rejection hurts me so deeply, I had a strong reaction to a break-up in my early 20’s. I reacted how anyone would if they felt hurt and pain the way I do.

This intense pain can put me at risk of getting hurt, so after the break-up, I spent some time in the hospital and in a home with other people to better understand myself as well as how to keep myself safe. I have learned a lot since then about how my past experiences and emotions affect my daily life. I’ve also learned a lot about how to live a satisfactory life going forward.

I am still working on accepting myself as a person, maintaining happy relationships with the people I love, communicating with people in a respectful, clear way, and reacting to social situations and conflicts in a way that feels OK for myself and others.”

([Re]Write the story of your life)

When internalized, stigma can lead to self-doubt, insecurity, isolation, and further health problems. Living with our diagnoses, we have dealt with enough suffering, self-doubt, and questioning of ourselves as is. Rewrite your story in a way the rest of the world may not. Accept your limitations, your trauma, your pain, your sorrows, and the areas you would like to work on to live a more fulfilled life. Do not ever accept, however, that you are “wrong,” “abnormal,” “disordered,” or “confused.”

Try to accept your hurtful tendencies and your mistakes, even the most painful ones. In that, however, also accept the qualities of yours that shine. Furthermore, which of the harmful ones can you change for the sake of a better and more enjoyable life? There are some difficult traits that you may live with for a very long time: for me, it may be certain fears of abandonment, or the instinct to feel anger or pain at times when others find it odd. That does not necessitate that you can’t re-examine, re-define, or re-work these tendencies and others.

More importantly, even if you never do, this does not mean you are any “better” or “worse” of a person than anyone else based on a diagnosis alone. Your faults, mistakes, and unique experiences do not make you wrong because they are attached to a label given by a doctor. I know I currently live a life of anguish and emotional whiplash, filled with digesting all the traumatic times I was hurt and have hurt other people. I accept this. I would also like to accept that this makes me a uniquely strong, selfless, passionate, and authentic person, more-so than many others. What I refuse to accept or allow is a list of nine diagnostic criteria and three little words to dictate who I am as a complex human being.

Am I still working on this? Yes. I live with a highly stigmatized diagnosis. Facing the stigma will probably be a life-long battle. But after all I’ve been through, I will not let a label of all things bring me down.

​EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR / EDITOR: Gabriel Nathan | DESIGN: Leah Alexandra Goldstein | SITE ORIGINATOR: Bud Clayman