Karína

I wanted to share a sneak peek from my upcoming book Too Much & Not Enough.

This chapter is about emotional permanence. It's about the way happiness and love can feel like they vanish the second they’re out of sight. It’s one of the hardest parts of living with BPD, and one I'd like to see talked about more. '

“When the good moments vanish, it doesn’t mean they never happened.”

One of the hardest things about BPD is how emotions seem to slip away as soon as they fade. A happy moment can feel powerful while it’s happening, but the second it’s over, it’s like it never existed. It’s like trying to hold smoke in your hands.

Think of babies playing peek-a-boo. They don’t understand the person is still there once hidden. That's called object permanence. For us, it’s the same thing, but with emotions. If love, joy, or security isn’t visible right now, our brain insists it’s gone.

If I can’t feel it right now, how do I know it’s real? If I don’t feel loved right now, how do I know anyone actually loves me?

It’s not that we’re ungrateful or forgetful. It’s that our emotional memory is unreliable. For someone without BPD, joy leaves a soft echo they can carry forward. For us, joy often vanishes the second it ends. And that crash can feel unbearable.

Happiness feels gone forever, and with it, our sense of security.

I can laugh with a friend one day and by the next, convince myself they don’t care. I can feel deeply loved in the morning and by evening, sitting right next to my partner, feel like he’s pulling away.

It’s like Buffy Season 6. Sure, you know things probably get better later, but in the moment it feels like it’ll be miserable forever. (And no, you don’t get a musical episode to help process it.)

That’s why reassurance matters so much. It’s not about testing people or being dramatic. It is about trying to hold onto something our brain keeps insisting has disappeared.

Building Anchors

We may never fully erase this struggle, but we can learn to ground ourselves when happiness feels like it’s slipping away:

Keep reminders. Screenshots of kind messages, notes from friends, or objects tied to good moments.

Practice recall. Describe a good memory out loud or write it down, even if it feels hollow. Over time, this builds emotional muscle memory.

Ask openly. Reassurance is okay to need, The key is to ask in a way that invites connection.

Notice the waves. Feelings don’t last, but that includes despair too.

Sometimes, honestly, half my coping skills are just me tricking my brain like it’s a toddler: “Look, here’s proof someone likes you, now eat your snack.”