Borderline Personality Disorder — Not a forsaken issue anymore!

In the past few years, borderline personality disorder has emerged as the “hot” mental illness. It’s undoubtedly relevant now that Amber Heard has the condition, according to Johnny Depp’s hired therapist (based on speculation and rather sloppy).

Hi, my name is Divya, and my daughter’s name is Aarushi. I call her Aaru. She also had BPD. This is our tale.

The condition is primarily misunderstood.

Like others, we had a happy family until she left home for higher studies. I was shattered as she was my everything. When we met last, she was in a haze of alcohol, impulse, and debauchery.

She dropped a bombshell on me at dinner. She said, “I got diagnosed with bipolar disorder a year ago.” Then she said she hadn’t been taking any medications for a year. I convinced her to see a doctor. Surprisingly, she was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (a second doctor later confirmed this diagnosis).

We had terrible fights, worse than I’ve ever had with anyone. I would get so confused by her sudden hostility. It went from zero to 100 and never felt justified. At her worst, she displayed this odd version of “switching.” She’d shout, “I hate you! Get out!” Then, as I stood up to get my things, she’d pivot and say, “N-n-n-no, don’t leave, please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Emotional instability is a signature symptom. But it doesn’t mean instability in the traditional sense. Instability usually means that patients are walloped by their emotions. When things were good with Aaru, things were great, as good as any relationship could be. Our time together was flowery and full of joy. She was angelic. She made me feel like the most loved mother in the world.

Friends are often the best person in the world or a backstabbing soulless traitors.

We’d be sitting in a living room on a peaceful afternoon, and she’d start asking, “Why are you acting so weird?”

“Yes, you are. You are being so weird.”

“No, I’m reading a book.”

Five minutes later.

“Stop acting so weird. What’s wrong.”

Literally, nothing was wrong. She’d poke me for an hour like this until I’d flip out.

The sad irony is that her fear of abandonment was the very thing that pushed everyone away.

If a person asks you if you love them like a broken record, you’ll eventually be forced to ask yourself the same question.

The fear of abandonment, combined with impulsiveness, anger, and neuroticism (vulnerability to negative emotions), makes breakups the stuff of nightmares. Breaking up with someone is a form of rejection. It’s you telling a person you don’t want them. This touches the nuclear core of someone with BPD. They’ll react aggressively or pleadingly to fix things. Sometimes both. There is also an untapped resentment that builds up. Borderline patients are often extreme people pleasers.

BPD is becoming the flag illness of “the crazy girlfriend/wife/ daughter,” which isn’t fair because the disease also affects men but manifests differently.

I received an email with a poem from her called, How I Became a Warrior by Jeff Foster. This poem transfixed her. It made her tear up and reconstruct her self-esteem. She probably felt vulnerable with the word warrior woman”. Here’s the poem.

how I became a warrior

Once, I ran from fear, so fear controlled me.

Until I learned to hold fear like a newborn.

Listen to it, but not give in.

Honor it, but not worship it.

Fear could not stop me anymore.

I walked with courage into the storm.

I still have fear,

but it does not have me.

Once, I was ashamed of who I was.

I invited shame into my heart.

I let it burn.

It told me, “I am only trying

to protect your vulnerability.”

I thanked shame dearly

and stepped into life anyway,

unashamed, with shame as a lover.

Once, I had great sadness

buried deep inside.

I invited it to come out and play.

I wept oceans. My tear ducts ran dry.

And I found joy right there.

Right at the core of my sorrow.

It was heartbreak that taught me how to love.

Once, I had anxiety.

A mind that wouldn’t stop.

Thoughts that wouldn’t be silent.

So I stopped trying to silence them.

And I dropped out of the mind,

and into the Earth.

Into the mud.

Where I was held strong

like a tree, unshakeable, safe.

Once, anger burned in the depths.

I called anger into the light of myself.

I felt its shocking power.

I let my heart pound and my blood boil.

Listened to it, finally.

And it screamed, “Respect yourself fiercely now!”.

“Speak your truth with passion!”.

“Say no when you mean no!”.

“Walk your path with courage!”.

“Let no one speak for you!”

Anger became an honest friend.

A truthful guide.

A beautiful wild child.

Once, loneliness cut deep.

I tried to distract and numb myself.

Ran to people and places and things.

Even pretended I was “happy.”

But soon, I could not run anymore.

And I tumbled into the heart of loneliness.

And I died and was reborn

into an exquisite solitude and stillness.

That connected me to all things.

So I was not lonely, but alone with All Life.

My heart is One with all other hearts.

Once, I ran from difficult feelings.

Now, they are my advisors, confidants, friends,

and they all have a home in me,

and they all belong and have dignity.

I am sensitive, soft, fragile,

my arms wrapped around all my inner children.

And in my sensitivity, power.

In my fragility, an unshakeable Presence.

In the depths of my wounds,

in what I had named “darkness”

I found a blazing Light

that guides me now in battle.

I became a warrior

when I turned towards myself.

And started listening.

~ poem, written by Jeff Foster

Originally published at https://sakshimishrablogs.blogspot.com.