Some days it’s like finding out all over again that I have BPD.
It’s become such a part of me and I guess in a way I’m used to it. But every once in awhile I have this all-over-again realization that I have it, and it feels like I’m finding out for the first time. It’s like finding out you have this incurable disease.
This panicky, life-sentence, heavy feeling of, “Omg…I have BPD…I will always have BPD.” And all I can think after that sometimes is how I just may never be fit for certain things in life…like love, or relationships.
Having BPD is like having an inability to be loved.