Mood: Apprehensive.

Trigger: Impulsively make plans to go to the gym with Fiance every Sunday.

Actions: Review my decision carefully, and see if I feel the same in the morning.

I hate exercise. I always have and I can’t ever see a version of me that enjoys putting my body through hell with any form of exercise. I would love to be one of those slim trendy women who wake up early, go for an early morning run, and return home to eat a tiny healthy breakfast. Probably something with kale or spinach. When you have BPD you can find yourself inventing different versions of yourself to suit your current needs. I was quiet, slim and timid at one job at a busy insurance company, I was the overweight professional woman in the trendy work clothes in another job, and now I find myself needing to be the active, energetic woman that goes for runs for the fun of it, and eats lots of salad. It’s hard to find yourself under the BPD sometimes.

Even outside of jobs my persona adapts to my needs; I can be the busy homemaker who bakes muffins and cleans every crack of the house, or the depressed woman that has given up on life and neglects her personal hygiene and lets the house become squalid. In social situations I am often the loud mouthed promiscuous drunk that flirts with women in front of Fiance and instigates a threesome, or the overly funny and cheeky ‘mate’ who cracks lewd jokes to the guys.

Some of the only times that I feel like I’m me is when I come out of the bath, and I’m wrapped up in one of my red towels. No make up, no clothing to define me, and nothing to show my identity. I’ll wallow in my bath towel for a little while, write on my blog, and listen to music. I feel at peace in these moments. My main goal for my recovery is to find out who I am under the BPD. I’ve made a mind map full of the characteristics that I’m sure are mine, and no the BPD’s. There isn’t much right now, but I’ll continue to add to it while I recover. I hope that in time I can figure out who I am.

Mood: Irritable.

Trigger: The mother-in-law.

Actions: Journal all the angry thoughts, try to cool down, and have a serious conversation with the Fiance when my mood is stable.

I hate my mother-in-law. She is critical, insensitive and pushy. I could write an entire book about my feeling towards my mother-in-law. Despite my feelings towards her, I have been making an effort to spend more time with her to make my Fiance happy. I suggested a seemingly chilled night of playing Boggle together, where we would be too engrossed in the game to have meaningful discussions about anything that could trigger my rage. I was wrong.

On arrival at the mother-in-law’s house, I am whisked upstairs to look at her large collection of crafting materials. She has made drafts of potential wedding invitations and save-the-date cards for us. She didn’t ask me what designs I would like, or the colour scheme, but we let this slide. She is trying to be involved with the wedding, it’s nice. The conversation turns sour when she shows us bunting she has made, that we could decorate our wedding venue with. Fiance stands silently and lets me explain that we have already hired a decorator for the venue when we booked it a year ago. She is sour about this, but we move onwards.

She talks about the home made Christmas crackers we are supposedly making for the wedding. I didn’t sign off on this, and I did not agree to home-made fudge being inside the crackers. I hate fudge. I keep repeating this as Fiance and mother-in-law discuss it. I just keep saying “But I hate fudge”. She’s under the impression that I will be assembling all these home-made Christmas crackers, and even baking the fudge myself. I wanted cheap personalised Christmas baubles as wedding favours. They’re good for the budget, they’re practical, and they can be part of the guest’s Christmas tree, which I love. I shut down the Christmas cracker talk for now and the conversation moves on.

She presents me with a list of the addresses of relevant family members she expects us to invite to the wedding. There are names of people on the list I have never met, and do not recognise. I politely tell her that as I don’t know these people, they will not be invited to the wedding. She tells me that they should be invited, and I can’t leave them out. I explain that at £100+ a head, I am not prepared to pay for strangers to attend my wedding. When previously discussing the guest list, Fiance has agreed that they should not be invited to the wedding, and he isn’t bothered that they’re not on the guest list. As mother-in-law prattles on about how they should be invited, Fiance interrupts and says that we will go over the budget and see if we can fit them in. My BPD rage goes from 0 to 100.

I less politely and very bluntly tell the mother-in-law NO, they will not be invited. There is no room in the budget, I don’t even know these people, and if they want to attend so desperately they can pay me the £100+ each to attend. Mother-in-law is still unhappy, and is still looking at Fiance and complaining. She is manipulative. She knows she cannot sway my opinion or tell me what to do, so he’s concentrating on Fiance, a man she is so very good at manipulating. Fiance says again that we can discuss it later, which gives her false hope. He’s doing this to shut her up, but doing this will not end the argument, it will just extend it until she brings it up again. At this point I am feeling dizzy and upset with BPD rage, and I need to get out. I dash out the room and in a fit of BPD rage I yell a final “NO” to mother-in-law’s demand to invite the uninvited guests. I literally run out of the house and clutch my vape. As I reach the door I am feeling triumphant in my quick getaway, when I notice the bloody front door is locked. I am trapped in this fucking house that stinks of the cactus standing by the front door.

Fiance has come downstairs at this point and unlocks the door for me. I run outside and fight the tears. I try to do breathing exercises to calm myself and the rage I feel, but it’s bloody difficult to do this when you’re trying to vape inbetween each breath. I use another coping technique I’ve learnt in group BPD therapy: the pause. You stop whatever you’re doing and count for 15 seconds in your head. The idea of this is that ‘normal’ people take about 15 seconds to process emotions, but people with BPD take longer. By giving yourself an extra 15 seconds, you can start to process the emotion, and prevent any hasty actions. The pause calms me a little, and I feel stable enough to return to the house.

When I return to the house I ask Fiance to meet me in the car for a moment. I thought the BPD rage had subsided, but when I am face to face with Fiance in the car I give him hell. I stare at him and keep repeating “what happened to being a team? what happened to backing me up?”. He mutters a half assed apology that I do not accept, and we return to the house. I’m then carted off in the mother-in-law’s car to visit one of her friends that are selling off used wedding decorations. This is after I told Fiance that I would rather see photos of the decorations and the prices before I go collect them. This is so I wouldn’t waste any time, and I wouldn’t have to feel anxious about meeting a new person in their own home. I didn’t want to see the wedding decorations, and yet here I am being carted away. Fiance looks beaten down like a child, and speaks to his mother in the car. I try to join in their conversations to make an effort but they ignore me.

Luckily mother-in-law’s friend turns out to be a wonderfully kind person. She is frugal, realistic, kind, and motherly. I like her very much. She gives me practical wedding advice and shows me photos of her own daughter’s recent wedding. Mother-in-law seems to turn her nose up to the frugal suggestions we share of baking your own wedding cake, and renting a wedding dress. At this point I am so emotionally drained and despondent that I end up impulse buying a set of fairy lights disguised as green vines for the wedding. I don’t know why I bought them, I don’t think they’re going to go with our wedding theme at all, and the price wasn’t amazing. I’m annoyed that I let myself be put in this position, but more than anything, I am annoyed at Fiance for being such a weak willed man.

As we drive home I am still left with the remnants of my BPD rage. Fiance has lied to mother-in-law and told her I have a wedding folder full of plans. Fiance expects me to go with the lie, but I am fed up. BPD rage rises up and I say “he’s lying to you. He always lies to you. I don’t have a folder of wedding plans, and he lied to you in the house when he said we would consider inviting your uninvited guests. He just wanted you to shut up”. As I say it it dawns on me what a monster I have become in this visit. I pride myself on my kindness and patience with others, but in 1 hour I have become a creature of spite and agression. Fiance nervously argues with mother-in-law about the contents of my outburst, and I feel a sick sense of pride. Good. Now you’re in trouble, you deserve it. You never fucking side with me when it comes to your mother. Why don’t you just marry your fucking mother so you can both plan your wedding together.

My thoughts are poisonous and lack sense. I just feel so fucking disgusted. This is the darker side of my BPD coming out, and I hate it. I got so pissed off that I smoked an entire joint (weed) when I got home. Partly because I needed the high to stop all the bad thoughts and feelings, but mostly because I knew it would piss the Fiance off. He doesn’t like weed at all. He’s never tried it, he’s had no experience of it, and is not interested in any of my research articles promoting the use of weed with mental health problems. I don’t like to smoke weed, I much prefer to vape CBD oil, but the cost of the oil was too much for me, and sadly, buying weed is cheaper.

I wake up today feeling irritable, pissed off, and just generally sour. I think part of it is last night’s events, the result of being on my period, and the fact that I have been solid dieting for a week and have only lost 2 pounds. Writing this all down helps me reflect on why I might feel the way I do. I think my period is having a bigger impact on me than I thought. What I would like to do now is have my healthy lunch (home made vegetable soup), vape a little bit (no weed), take the dogs for a good walk, and then have a rational, calm conversation with Fiance when he gets home.

What does a rational and calm conversation look like? “Fiance, your actions upset me last night. I expect your support when these issues arise, because that’s what partners do. Your mother can help us with the wedding invites, but the rest of the planning will stay between you and me. You need to explain to your mother that the other guests will not be invited. If she gets upset then please gently remind her that we are the ones paying for this wedding, not her”. Is that rational?

After writing all of this I actually do feel calmer and less pissed off. I feel a sense of clarity, and now I’m proud of myself for taking these emotions and expressing them in a healthy way. Another small victory.

Mood: Anxious.

Trigger: Thinking about seeing Fiance’s mother later, who has asked us in the past *when* are we going to have children.

Actions: Journal all the bad thoughts and feelings, and listen to uplifting music.

I have a complicated relationship with the subject of children. I have a First Class degree in childhood studies, I worked in nurseries during college as part of my course, and I helped my single mother raise my younger sister. In the early years of my life I always wanted children. The idea of having a family made up of parts of you has always been fascinating to me. But as the years went by and I saw the reality of what raising a child looked like by watching my single mother struggle with my sister, it made me reevaluate my wishes.

Struggling to assemble prams in busy shopping centres, the constant getting up to stop the child from touching this or that, the baby proofing of the house, the carefully cooked and pureed meals, the list goes on. It’s just too much work to be honest. My mother dedicated every single minute of her daily life to keeping this child alive and well developed. What’s worse is that she had already done this with two other children, myself included. After seeing all the hard work and struggles, suddenly having children was not an appealing option for me anymore.

Cue a few years later and I am engaged to Fiance, and I now know more than ever that I do not want children of my own. What really sealed the deal is when I was given my diagnosis of BPD. After the doctor delivered the news I immediately rushed to the nearest bathroom and Googled everything to do with BPD. I was horrified to learn that there is a genetic component to BPD, and the research indicated that those affected with BPD would have it for life. The worst part was the Amazon search results (I had already exhausted the Google search at this point); one of the top results was a self-help book dedicated to children with BPD mothers. There is no way I could consciously put a child through all of this.

I am now at the point in my life where I am making the tough decisions. Fiance would love a child, and he would make an amazing father. But another issues with having a child is the effect it would have on my treatment. I take a combination of prescription drugs to help stabilise myself (so many that I must rattle when I walk), and most of these pills cannot be taken when you are pregnant. Fiance’s mother once suggested that I start coming off my medication now for when I have children. BPD temper flared up and I went from 0 to 100. I politely told her that I didn’t plan on having children, and I needed this medication to feel okay.

Today I am unemployed and my BPD ambitious drive is urging me to choose a purpose in life. I started thinking about children, and I imagined what life would be like raising a child. I imagined the midnight feedings, how the child would interact with the pups, the nearest school it would attend, and what my life would look like in between catering to the child’s every need. I just have to remind myself that this feeling is fleeting, and is not based on logic. I feel the urge to have children now at this point in my life because I am at rock bottom. I have nothing to give my life purpose right now, and my brain is desperately trying to find a solution to this problem. When I have found another purpose my desire for children will disappear, and I will find myself relived I didn’t take any impulsive actions. It’s good that I’m recognising this now, and I think reflecting on this really helped.

Twenty-something year old girl with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). Recently unemployed Will Writer, mother of two beautiful dogs, and fiance to a great non-BPD having partner. I will talk a lot about my experiences with BPD, but it’s worth noting that I have also been diagnosed with Mixed Depressive & Anxiety Disorder.

I’m writing this blog mostly for my benefit (journaling your moods and thoughts have been known to improve your mental health), but I also wanted to share my experiences with other members of the BPD family. Maybe you’ll read something I’ve written that resonates with you, or makes you feel less alone. Or maybe you’ll completely disagree with my approach to coping with BPD. Either way, whether you’re a person with BPD or someone that cares about someone with BPD, you’re welcome here.