As I listened to my favourite true crime podcast, they started discussing my diagnosis. I have Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and one of the criminals involved in the story shared it too. The following discussion by the presenters made my heart drop.
Borderlines don’t care about other people.
Borderlines are manipulative.
Borderlines are pathologically uncaring and selfish.
Borderlines are violent.
I thought to myself that if they are saying these things, then others must be too.
My battle with anxiety started during summer 2018. From when I was diagnosed I knew I was about to embark on a tough and challenging journey. Not just me, but everyone who was close to me as well. It was really hard to come to terms with the fact that it would take time to be okay again and even harder to accept that it could hit me again at any time.
My diagnosis of BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), or the UK name EUPD (Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder) was at first a major blow, but then I realised I finally had a name for this shadow that had been following me around for the last 20 years and, more importantly, I wasn't alone.
The words that describe what we live with do not define us – we are more than just a neurological clinical diagnosis, we are complex human beings.
I remember the day I decided to take my own life, that moment was the first time I’d had clarity of thought for as long as I could remember. There was a huge sense of relief that I had finally realised how I could take back control over what was happening to me. The irony was that things in my life had never been so good. I had just become a father for the first time (my daughter was 6 months old), I had a wonderful supportive and caring wife, a lovely home, and a great group of family and friends around me. However, by this stage anxiety and depression had taken over.
