Nobody's going to magically swoop in to rescue you. You can't just sit there and expect someone else to come save you. You have to get your shit together and do it yourself.

For example:

“I disagree with you” → “I disagree with you, but I’m not angry at you.”

“I’m hurt” → “I’m hurt, but I don’t think you’re a bad person. I want to talk it through.”

“I’m frustrated” → “I’m frustrated, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“I’m angry” → “I’m angry but I still love you”.

To you, the love and care underneath might feel obvious. To someone who’s been trained to flinch at every sign of conflict, it might not be. Those extra words of reassurance don’t erase your frustration or your boundaries. They just remind us the relationship is safe even in hard moments.

I think one of the things that draws me to emotional masochism, trauma kink etc etc is like... the idea that if i did, truly, genuinely slip into such a dark mental space, i'd still be worth something? that theres still some innate value in me, even in my darkest times??

It’s the test of silence. The test of hoping they’ll push past our “no.” The test of waiting to see if they’ll fight hard enough to prove we matter. We want things like them chasing us down to try and talk us out of certain decisions, insisting on being there for us when we pull away, or even just guessing what we need based on our mood changes (and noticing the slightest change in our mood).

It makes sense why we do it. For those of us with BPD or fear of abandonment in general, being chased can feel like safety. If someone insists on helping, or pushes their way into our walls, it can feel like proof they care. Like proof we’re worth the effort.

However, love built on tests like this isn’t sustainable

These tests aren’t random. They come from real pain, real wiring, real fear.

But even when the reasons make sense, the impact still matters.

It isn’t fair to them or you.

When you expect someone to “prove” they care without telling them how, you’re asking them to read your mind. You’re putting them in a no-win situation:

•If they chase, they feel pressured and resentful.

•If they don’t chase, you feel abandoned.

No one wins.

And worse? It slowly erodes trust. Your loved ones start to feel like they’re walking into traps, where anything they do might secretly mean they failed. That isn’t fair to them.

It isn’t fair to you, either. Because what you actually want (care, reassurance, connection) gets buried under a guessing game that leaves everyone more distant than before.

It’s okay to want people to notice. To long for them to care enough to step in. That want is human. It matters.

But love isn’t proven by how well people pass hidden tests. Real love is built on honesty, trust, and letting people choose to show up.

When you rely on silent demands, what you end up testing isn’t their love. It’s their ability to withstand pressure. That’s not the same thing.

Instead of testing, try asking. Vulnerably. Directly. Yes, it feels terrifying. Yes, it feels like begging sometimes. But it’s not. Asking is clarity, not shame.

Some examples:

“I don’t want advice. I just need you to sit with me.”

“Can you remind me that you still care about me right now?”

“I’m afraid I’ll spiral if I’m alone. Can you text me later tonight?”

These aren’t demands. They’re invitations. They give your loved ones the chance to show up without being set up to fail. And your loved ones deserve a real chance to show up for you.

Your needs matter. Their needs matter. Hidden tests create fear, anxiety and frustration (for both of you). Clear asks create connection.

Let’s be honest here, communicating during a spiral can feel near impossible.

Your brain is screaming, your body’s on fire, your thoughts are sprinting to every worst-case scenario you can think of.

You want to say what’s wrong but all that comes out is panic, blame, or silence.

So what do you do?

Step 1: Notice the Spiral.

The moment you feel yourself slipping, beginning to panic, desperate to beg for reassurance or lash out, name it. Acknowledge what is happening.

“I think I’m spiraling.”

That one sentence buys you clarity. It creates a pause.

Step 2: Pick a Clear Sentence.

When you’re in the thick of it, don’t overexplain. Keep it simple and kind. I personally find it helpful to plan out sentences in advance since I know what type of things I tend to feel during spirals.

“I’m having a lot of big feelings right now and I don’t want to take it out on you.”

“I’m scared and I don’t know what to do. Can we check in later when I’m calmer?”

“I need comfort, but I’m struggling to ask gently.”

Step 3: Delay the Damage.

If you feel the urge to text something extreme, try redirecting that energy or practicing urge surfing.

Write it down somewhere private

Set a timer for 15 minutes

Do one grounding thing (cold water, movement, breathing)

You don’t have to respond perfectly. You just have to create some space so that you can avoid making the spiral worse. (I know I spiral more if I accidentally give into an urge.)

Step 4: Come Back to Repair.

Spirals happen. Even with all the skills in the world. So if things got messy, that doesn’t mean all is lost.

You can say:

“I was overwhelmed earlier and I reacted from fear. I’m sorry.”

“Here’s what I needed. I want to work on asking for it more gently next time.”

Making plans together to recognize triggers and how to handle situations in the future can be helpful. Instead of punishing yourself, learning from it and accepting mistakes happen.

A spiral doesn’t make you unworthy. Communication in distress takes practice and you aren’t a failure if you don’t get it or fall back sometimes. You are not a disaster. You are someone learning how to stay kind even when your brain is screaming.