The Roots of My Struggle

I remember a time before the chaos that now manifests itself inside of me. There was once a time when I had two loving parents and when a house could actually feel like a home. I once still had a shred of innocence inside of me and reveled in the happy oblivion only a child can posses. I once felt completely and totally loved. I once was able to only worry about the simple things that kids worry about instead of worrying about whether I should have even been born. Once upon a time I was pure and full of joy.

BPD is what resulted from having all of this ripped away from me. It didn't happen all at once. I didn't wake up one morning with mental illness as if it were a cold I had suddenly caught. It was slowly instilled in me by a series of traumatic experiences and a childhood full of pain. Over time I grew worse until this disease controlled my life.

After making countless mistakes and bad decisions, I finally decided that I was going to get better. Today, I am not at all recovered, but I am slowly working towards it. I still have fallbacks, I still lose control at some points in my life, and sometimes I am so overwhelmed by the pain of my past that I feel I can't make it any longer, but I am better than I was a year ago when I discovered exactly why I am the way I am.

I always knew something wasn't right. I knew my thoughts, my feelings, my actions, and my reactions were not those of a normal, sane person. I also knew that for some reason, even if I knew this, I could not seem to control them. My moods were all over the place day to day and I had no idea why. I would burst out in tears for no known reason, I would rage at the people I loved the most and never understand why I harbored such anger for these people, and sometimes I would feel absolutely ecstatic and like I would never be sad again, only to start the cycle all over again. I never realized all the horrible experiences in my life had amounted to this. I knew it had to have caused some kind of psychological problems, but never had I dreamed it was to this extent.

I was misdiagnosed many times and was put on so many medications that only made me worse with the severe side effects. I was confused and scared I would never be "normal". I finally started searching for the answers myself.

When I found the description of BPD online I couldn't believe it; everything I read described the never ending battle I was fighting on the inside. Upon reading the bleak prognosis for recovery, I tried to deny the facts. I couldn't be that bad off, could I?

Think about having, to a certain degree, multiple personalities, being bipolar, and also schizophrenic all at the same time. This is how it feels to be a borderline. It used to be believed that there was no recovery for this disease. Therapists today still choose to refuse borderlines at times because they are so exhausting and unpredictable. The most severe schizophrenic is preferred over the borderline. It can take up to 5 years in therapy to recover and rarely less than 3 years minimum. The suicide rate is 10% and insurance companies opt out of paying for therapy once diagnosed.

Over the last year, I have tried to gain as much knowledge as I possibly could about my illness and I have put forth every effort to use this to try to help myself. With the help of doctors, medicine, and the wonderful people I have in my life, I have managed to make a lot of positive changes. I still have a long, long way to go; the road to recovery is just as scary as it is exciting, but I won't give up until I am where I want to be.