Dear Lily-Mae:

“I’ve never shared my story, Anita – but I really wanted to share this with you“- I feel special, honored that you chose to share your story with me, that you trust me with your story. I will not betray your trust!

* By not betraying your trust I mean that I will express no judgment of you, I will not be aggressive/ abusive toward you in any way, shape or form (if you happen to perceive judgment or abuse of any kind in what I write to you, please let me know what it is, and I will tell you the truth about what I meant in writing this or that). I will be honest and truthful with you, and I will communicate with you for as long as you want to communicate with me: I will not abandon you in the context of this thread (one exception would be if you became abusive to me, not that I expect it). Every morning, as I turn on the computer, if I see a new post by you for me, I will answer it first. I am here for you.

Also: if something (anything) about what I write (or.. fail to write/ address) annoys you, makes you angry, or anxious, please let me know what it is, and tell me what you feel, so that we can talk about it. From my personal BPD- experience, I know how important it is to not keep annoyances and distresses inside (so they don’t build up and explode.. sooner than later).

All your feelings are okay with me, everything that you feel is welcome here.

And one more thing: I will repeat your story next  because this is how I process information. I can’t process by reading alone, I have to rewrite or retype and re-arrange what I read (my learning disabilities/ ADD). Also: English is not my first language.

(the boldfaced words are your words): You shared that your parents met in the workplace when they were both married to other people, each having 2 children, and had an affair. They eventually married and had you, the 5th child, living in a household with constant fights, fights every day, lots of conflict, alone most of the time, loathed by your half siblings. Your father: a strict and controlling workaholic with no emotion. (No mention of your mother).

In primary school and high school, you were bullied by boys telling you that you were ugly and fat and worthless, and  physically bullied in high-school. At 12 you tried to commit suicide for the first time. After high-school, you had a 6-year relationship that was physically, sexually and emotionally abusive. After the divorce from him, you became a promiscuous zombie (interesting wording). Years later,  you had another abusive guy and you started cutting yourself.

Since you were 12, you landed many times in hospital, tried many times to commit suicide, were misdiagnosed by psychiatrists, and finally, last year, a new psychiatrist diagnosed me with BPD.

You have an exceptional fear of abandonment, you push people away, your relationships are unstable, you have no identity and feel like an empty shell inside, you hate yourself, you have mood swings like crazy, you are extremely impulsive, and you cut yourself daily.

“I received my masters degree this year and I’m busy with my doctorate degree“- congratulations for your masters and for working on a doctorate degree!

“I get these extreme violent outbursts. Not even to talk about my paranoia, delusional thoughts. Sometimes it feels like my thoughts are killing me… At this stage, I cannot get over the fact that this guy left me for another woman… Dear Anita, please share how you handled your bpd. I would love to get to know you and talk to you as I have no one else to talk to. I’m alone.“-

– Like you, I too looked up the BPD diagnosis and saw that it fit me (I remember it like it was yesterday, I was in a library) years before I was officially diagnosed (about 25 years before!). All the symptoms you described were true to me. I was a zombie of all kinds (dissociated, depersonalized), drifting through life like a ship with no sail, no direction, no stability of any kind, not in the inside (emotional stability) and not on the outside: I lived in many, many (mostly bad) places, shifting jobs (I had only one full time job and that was for two years out of my entire life).. it was a nightmare, now that I think of it. As we continue to communicate, I will share more, I am sure.

I received the BPD diagnosis in 2011 and had my first experience of quality, professional psychotherapy by the therapist who diagnosed me. He tailored the therapy to the diagnosis and went about the therapy in a planned, methodical way (he took his job seriously, and was very dedicated to his clients).

The focus in BPD treatment, from the beginning and throughout is emotion regulation: the mood swings like crazy need to become less crazy,  the extremely impulsive and extreme violent outbursts need to become less extreme, and the exceptional fear of abandonment need to become.. less exceptional. The emotional storms need to quiet down: there can be no mental health otherwise. My therapist at the time had me listen every day to one of  a series of guided meditations by Mark Williams, an Oxford University expert on Mindfulness. Doing yoga (not hot yoga) and Tai-Chi (a slow-motion martial art form) were very helpful in the process of slowing down the emotional escalation and takeover that is typical of bpd.

Like you, I grew up in a (it’s difficult for me to call it home) war zone (yes, that’s a way more accurate term). My mother (better term: my monster) exhibited bpd herself and EXPLODED at me like there’s no tomorrow (and in many respects, there wasn’t a tomorrow, as the life in me was squeezed out by her explosions). She went on and on and on.. and on and I don’t remember what she said (screamed, yelled, cried) except that she said that she’d kill herself, that I am the reason she wants to kill herself.. at times she said she’d kill me.. She said that I (anita) am a “one big zero” (I remember that well), and she used to go over all the ways (she believed) that I was intentionally trying to hurt her feelings. And also, she hit me with her legs (kicking me) or her arms and hands. I remember hitting me on the face, right cheek, left cheek and again, and at the end, looking at her hands, she said: look what you did to me, you made my hands hurt.

It was a nightmare. Again, as we communicate (for as long as you want to), I will share more. You are welcome to ask me questions about my experience as a child and onward. (There are things I will not feel comfortable to share, things I’ve never shared here or anywhere).

About identity: I couldn’t even make the simplest choices, couldn’t figure out what I like or prefer to do. I was almost a non-person, the life in me shut down.. a zombie is an appropriate word. A zombie with a very, very low self-esteem (well, how can there be esteem when there’s no self).

Back to your very current struggle: “At this stage, I cannot get over the fact that this guy left me for another woman“- I wonder if the other woman represents someone in your childhood that you envied, a sibling perhaps who seemed so much more fortunate than you..?

anita