Below is the definition from Wikipedia-
Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a personality disorder described as a prolonged disturbance of personality function in a person (generally over the age of eighteen years, although it is also found in adolescents), characterized by depth and variability of moods.[1] The disorder typically involves unusual levels of instability in mood; black and white thinking, or splitting; chaotic and unstable interpersonal relationships, self-image, identity, and behavior; as well as a disturbance in the individual's sense of self. In extreme cases, this disturbance in the sense of self can lead to periods of dissociation.[2]
I always knew something was off. I just thought it was one of my "quirks". Crying all the time. Yelling all the time. Only seeing this as good or bad. The list goes on and on and on. When my father passed away I became very depressed. I've been used to being 'down' but never to the point where I wanted to runaway or 'leave'. I didn't want to be here anymore. Not in my house. Not with my family or friends. I didn't want to be me. My bottom was when I had to go into the hospital for suicidal thoughts . I do have to tell you that I didn't cut myself, take drugs or anything like that. It was a preventive measure. I couldn't stop crying. I didn't want to live anymore. Chris was starting to get worried and told me to call my councilor. Whom I've only been seeing for about a month or so. She wanted to talk to Chris. The next thing I know, I'm in the car on my way to NetCare. NetCare in Columbus is a facility where you can go if you're not feeling like yourself. It's for people who need help. It's a wonderful resource. When I got there I was shaking and couldn't stop crying. They took me in the back I was so scared. I didn't know what was happening. I was surrounded my people who were talking to themselves. Drug addicts. You name the aliment, they were there. I was only there for a few short hours when they told me that OSU had a bed for me. I said my good-byes to my husband. Then was transported to the hospital. It was September 17, 2009. I spent 3 whole days at OSU. They listened to me and let me tell them my story. What could come out of my mouth. I was so hysterical. I'm surprised that the doctors could understand me. Let alone diagnose me. I told them briefly about my childhood. My adolescents, and young adulthood. I don't even remember what I actually told them. I had to go to group therapy, individual therapy and classes. It was the longest 3 days of my life. When the Psychiatrist called me into the office I was scared to death that they were going to make me stay even longer then the 3 day hold. Then he said those wonderful words, "You're going home today' and handed me my papers. As I was waiting for Chris to pick me up I read what it said. Borderline Personality Disorder. I was in shock. Total shock. I heard about this in health class when I was in school. It's not curable. You most likely have to be on medication for the rest of your life. In and out of the hospitals. All the horrible things you don't to hear. I was terrified. Was I crazy? Will I always be like this? Will life always be this hard? Hundreds of questions and thoughts were racing through my head. What will I tell my kids. Husband? Friends? FAMILY?! What was I going to do? What would I say? How would they respond? When I came home I sat Chris down and told him everything. What BPD was and all that goes with it. In the back of my mind I thought for sure he would pack up the kids and leave. I would of understood too. But he didn't. He cried with me. He held me and told me that no matter what he was going to be there for me. I have to tell you, I was relieved. So now the hard part was about to begin. I upped my therapy sessions to twice a week and started taking classes on how to cope with BPD. Marsha Linehan wrote a manual to help people with BPD learn skills to manage the disorder and get on with their lives. I started in November/December of 2009 and just finished my first run through. You only have to take it once, but they encourage you to go through it twice. Which I am. When I started all of this I was in the middle of a bad spell. My down cycle still wasn't dissipating. I was in and out of the doctor for med checks and blood draws. By February I was still really bad. My weight was down to 100 lbs. I couldn't eat. Or should I say didn't want to eat. I was always grumpy. Didn't go out. Didn't hang out with friends or anything. I only came out of my house to go to therapy and class. I didn't cook. Clean. NOTHING!! I noticed my family falling apart in front of my eyes. The kids grades were slipping. I wasn't getting along with anyone in the house. Everyone was fighting. It really sucked. By March I talked to my personal doctor and told her everything that was going on. We decided that I was on too many medications. They were hurting more than helping now. So off I went. This was a big plunge I was about to partake in. The one thing on my mind was my family. I needed to get my act together. And fast. In April I decided that I was going to California. The plan was to go for a couple of months. Leave in April and come back in June. As the time got closer to my departure date I stared to get scared. Was I running away?? Was everything for not?? So I talked everything over with my councilor and Chris. My feelings, thoughts and concerns. When all was said and done, I only went to California for a week. To see family and soak in the sun. Take a break from reality. A vacation from myself. When I was out there I read, relaxed and missed my kids and husband. I needed them. I really did. It took me so long to figure it out. But at least I did. I came back renewed, rejuvenated and relaxed. A new me was in the works and I liked her. Chris and the kids could see a major difference. I was smiling. Happy. Genuinely happy. I went to see my councilor and she could see a difference as well. Not only has she helped, but the classes are fabulous. I was using the skills I was (and still) learning. The biggest thing was just to accept things as the they are. My therapy sessions are down to once a week and maybe even going to twice a month. This is a big thing!! I'm very proud of myself and all that I have accomplished in a year. I came in broken and hurt. Now I'm healing and happy. I still have my bad days. I still think of my dad and cry. But this is all good. What I've learned is that if you don't have bad days once in a while, well you're most likely a cyborg. I've just learned how to cope with my anger and sadness. I've learned how to talk out my issues instead of holding them in and exploding. It still a battle. It will always be a battle. There is no cure for BPD. There's only you. You are the only one who can make things right. You HAVE to want it. To grave it. To be it. It's all about recovery. If I can do it, anyone can. If you or someone you love is suffering from BPD there is hope. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. You can make it through. I've seen it. I'm doing it.
