I have BPD. And I wanna say something.
It’s been a year and a half with my current Favourite Person (we're not romantically together if that matters). We’ve been through a lot — the kind of pain that breaks you, the kind of illusions that shatter, the kind of silence that feels like the end. But somehow, we’re still here.
This connection taught me things no therapy could explain in words. Not because it was easy, but because it was real.
What exactly it taught me:
· Any storm will pass. Even the one where you can’t breathe, where you’re sure nothing makes sense anymore. Tomorrow — or the day after — your body will get tired of suffering. And you’ll start breathing again. Not because you’re strong. Just because you’re alive.
· Pain doesn’t mean the end. Sometimes the other person pulls away, goes quiet, disappears into themselves. And you learn to wait. In panic, in obsession, trying your hardest not to split on them. It's so painful. it hurts so much you can barely live your life. But you learn. You catch yourself, when you feel like splitting and doing your best to give it another day to make a final decision. You learn to respect the others boundaries. You learn to stay away for a time being. Letting them know you’re still there without breaking the door down.
· You can respect someone’s boundaries and still love them, not hate instantly. He says “don’t touch” — and I learn not to. I live in hell for almost a month. But the storm has ended. And then one day, he touches me first. And through all of that, I slowly learn to see my own boundaries too.
What he does that helps me (without even knowing it):
He doesn’t fully understand what he is to me in the context of BPD. But somehow, he says and does the right things. He’s patient, honest, loving, caring in his own clumsy way. He thanks me for caring. He comes back after pulling away. He tells me it's not my fault. He tells me that I'm not annoying when I ask him directly, and I know he's being honest with me, cause we have agreed on that one. He reassures me, when I feel like he's slipping away, not cause I ask him to, but cause he just feels like he needs to do or say something on that matter. He doesn’t save me. He just stays and being honest. And that’s enough.
· You can have an FP and still grow. Not despite the intensity, but because of it. The mirror they hold up shows you your own patterns — the fear of abandonment, the black-and-white thinking, the desperate need to be needed. And once you see it, you can start working with it.
· BPD is not a life sentence. I promise. Please, believe me. You’re not an unforgivable monster. You’re someone who feels too much, yes. But that doesn’t make you evil.
· Healing doesn’t always look like therapy. Sometimes it looks like a stupid joke shared late at night. Sometimes it’s just surviving the silence and realising you didn’t die.
Of course, having a right person in your life helps a lot here. But I know it won't last. I know, eventually, he will leave, like everybody else before and after. And I know it's going to be a hell of a ride. But I've learnt the storm will pass.
I’m not in constant therapy. I’m not always on meds (though both help, let’s be honest). But I’m learning — day by day — what it feels like to be different. And I keep trying to move toward that feeling.
It’s hard. God, it’s hard. But it’s possible.
I fight every single day for a tiny piece of normalcy. And if I can — so can you.
You’re not broken. You’re not evil. You’re just learning how to live with a brain that works differently. And that’s okay.
jbbartram-illu
jacobvanloon
prguitarman
blakekathryn
izzy806
gummygunk
