Well anyone who has anything to do with BPD, be it one with the diagnosis or one who has a loved one with the diagnosis, you’re well aware of how much of a toll BPD can take on a relationship.
I was diagnosed in 2010. I’ve been in therapy and on meds since age 12 (currently I am almost 31), but it wasn’t until 2010 that I finally got my BPD diagnosis. It was like going to hell and heaven all at the same time. I realized how bad off I really was, but I also felt so relieved that I finally knew what was “wrong” with me.
All of my life I knew that I was different. I just didn’t understand anyone else and how they acted, and couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t the same.
So upon getting my diagnosis, so began my journey. I’ve had a number of very bad relationships. Bad in the sense that they were unhealthy not just because I was so messed up, but I really am great at choosing the wrong guys. And unfortunately these “wrong guys” brought out the worst in me and my illness.
Long story short and bringing us all to today, I’m in a relationship currently and for the first time ever I finally feel like I’ve got a good one. A guy who is 100% into me. Loyal, honest (sometimes to a fault), etc. Just like usual, everything started out great. We both fell hard and fast for each other and my amazing colors shined and he fell in love with them. Until they all turned black.
I’m like a beautiful rainbow that draws people in, and once they’re there I turn into a raging storm. I’m like the weather. I have no seasons anymore, I’m winter one day and the next it’s scorching heat.
Well my boyfriend can’t really handle it. I try warning people. Guys. I’m most likely no good for you. I may ruin your life. I’m difficult to deal with. Hard to handle.
I’ve been going through med changes which has been fucking me all up. Relationships in general are very hard for me with having BPD, and it’s just all been the perfect storm to make him go away. He left me last night. I’ll put in another post as to what happened, because I feel it’s slightly a different topic and one worth writing and reading, but yea. The man of my dreams. Literally. The only man I’ve ever officially introduced to my mom and sister and was beyond proud of him and knew they’d love him. And they do.
Just like that; gone. Well we talked a little this morning and sorted some things out. I’ve come SUCH a long way with my illness. I wish he could see clips of me from 2010 and 2011 just to see how bad I really bad. So maybe he would appreciate more of the me that I am today, even though I’ve still got a lot of work to do.
No one, no one who does not have this illness, can ever understand the battle that is constantly going on inside. The masks we have to wear. The pain we carry. You will never understand. All I ask, is that when I have my moments that I just can’t hold it together, that you remember those things. The pain. The wars. The scars. Don’t discourage me. I fight more than you’ll ever know. But sometimes it wins. Please don’t ever think I didn’t try to beat it.
My fear, which is probably almost my wish at the same time? That it will officially win one day. And by officially I don’t mean that my boyfriend will break up with me or my family will get mad at me. No. It will win. I will die at the invisible hands of BPD. I won’t lie. I’ve got a date marked on my calendar. Whether or not that day truly is my final day or not? I guess we’ll find out.