Borderline Personality Disorder is not a mental illness. It is a personality disorder that is often misdiagnosed for many people who are suffering from it. Many people are diagnosed as having Bipolar or Chronic Depressive disorder. Often prescribed medications for other forms of mental illness and disorders has kept many of us suffering from these disorders for the majority of our lives. What is a day like for a person who suffers from borderline personality disorder ( BPD). I will share what it has been like living with BPD with detailed description of what a single day is like for me, how relationships are with others involved in my life and how my thinking has been distorted over the years bringing about major consequences which destroy everything I touch turning them into shit in a split second.

My day begins when I wake up which could be 8:00 a.m. or 2:00 p.m. ‘When I wake up’ means exactly that. I didn’t say when the alarm goes off or when my phone rings giving a wake up call.

I open my eyes and can’t fall back to sleep or I have to piss so bad it begins to hurt preventing me from lying in the bed any longer. I may lie there a few more minutes, pretending the pain may just subside thereby rendering me defenseless not being able to pull myself out of the comfort of the bed.

I suffer from depression which causes me to be lethargic and having to muster all the strength I have mentally and physically to pull my body up facing the new day. I don’t want to disturb my man, who is sleeping next to me, not because I want to let him sleep or to have a little time to myself. It goes much deeper than that. I don’t want to be yelled at first thing in the morning setting the tone for the remainder of the day. It is usually a fifty-fifty chance either way if he wakes or not.

I feel the warmth above my head where my little tea-cup Pomeranian has roosted on top of a pillow that rests directly above my head. I look upward into her furry face and half-open eyes , feeling the love from her that is always unconditional. I am her world which makes me feel happy. She slides her small body down off the pillow and directly onto my chest where we are now facing to face. I can’t stand to lie there any longer in pain and I gently ease her off of me and onto the other side of the bed,

I do my best to slide out of the bed without disturbing my man, grab a smoke and the lighter off the night stand next to the bed, grab the glass of ice water that is there, taking a few gulps.

” Oh my God, that is so good”, I say out loud. I felt I whispered it when suddenly I hear

SHUT THE FUCK UP. YOU GOT TO MAKE ALL THAT NOISE” He growled at me. Ripping the blanket off of him, getting out of the bed and storming off to the bathroom. I follow him apologizing as I go.

” I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up I thought I was being quiet.” I say.

“You talk to yourself, slam the cup down, making unnecessary noises,” he retorts.

I continue to try to defend myself, which doesn’t fo well and since he always has to have the last word I am called a stupid bitch or cunt. This occurs within the first 20 minutes of waking. Teddy, our little dog, has taken safety under a table in the other room where she can barely be seen. My nerves are now on edge and I am walking on eggshells.

My thoughts now are like this , “I am such a fuck-up. I can’t do anything right. I am just worthless. Why is he with me? I wish I didn’t even wake up in the morning. God , why do you let me even wake up at all? I don’ t know why he bothers I know he is gonna tell me to get out . I don’t know why he is with a fuck up like me. I would be better off dead. The whole world would be better off if I was dead. I should kill myself right now. Then everyone would be happy.

My trigger was hit, well one of them and that started the moment that he began to yell at me. I don’t do well with being hollered at. Then the name calling adds to it. I also have anxiety issues and PTSD. My day has now officially begun.

I walk through the kitchen to the bathroom which is connected to it. I am in my bare feet It is January and the floor is freezing saying out loud but quietly ” OMG the floor is freezing.

“Shut the fuck up and quit talking to yourself>” he said.

Yelling back ” Im not talking to you or loud so you shut the fuck up!” Trying my best to not keep the shit going by stirring the pot more, I use the bathroom and wash my hands. Grabbing his towel to dry my hands while snickering inside because he would have a fit if he knew I had done that. In my way I got even with the yelling he did earlier.

Going into the bedroom ( it is supposed to be the living room but we turned it into our room), I grab a smoke, turn on the television , making sure the volume is turned up enough so I can hear it, sit in the recliner and have to be subjected to a few more rantings on his behalf.

I listen to the belittling comments while fighting tears from falling down my face. I think ” Why does he hate me so much, why doesn’t he just leave me if I am so awful. I wish I was dead then he could be happy and not deal with this sorry shit I am . If I let him see tears he will win , knowing I am weak and that he broke me again. Don’t do it, don’t let him see tears. He lies back in the bed , grabs a pillow throws it over his face to block light from his eyes.

I should kill him now, just smothering his ass, Hold that pillow snug as I sit on his chest till he stops breathing. Now I have changed gears in my head. I am full of anger and rage. “Fuck his ass , he aint gonna go back to sleep”, I whisper into the dog’s ear. She had come out from hiding and now was siting beside me in he chair. “I hate him. I wish He would die and leave me alone.”

I look over and see his face as he dozes back off to sleep. The pillow has slid leaving him exposed. He is lying on his back and making a soft noise with his lips as if he is blowing out a candle. He is so handsome when sleeping. My heart melts at the very second that I see him and I fall in love completely that very instant.

He is my world. I love this man so much. I want to spend the rest of my life, growing old with him. I don’t care where we are as long as we are together. Once again my mind has flipped the script so to speak. I feel all mushy inside as I think these thoughts and begin to write him another letter telling him all these thoughts and sharing those feelings I am now have for him.

I know that he is feeling the effects of withdrawal already. I haven’t begun to feel anything yet as far as withdrawal but I am hurting in my hip from my arthiritis. I know that the only way he will get out of the bed is if he has a line of heroin to get him well. I had smoked the last cigarette this morning and I knew that it was up to me to make some type of miracle happen to get some smokes. Nicotine was the worst withdrawal for me. If I don’t have a cigarette I freak out and then it gets very ugly. I grab my coat and shoes putting them on without even brushing my hair or teeth and out the door I go. I walk up to the corner where one neighbor gives me some smokes and instant coffee packs. I already owe him money which he is waiting to be paid. I ask if he has a few dollars to spare. I have to find at least enough to get the both of us well, which at this time would be a dime bag of dope between the two of us.

I have to take my chances with the dope boys and hopefully get one of the few I deal with to front me something if I cant hustle up the cash. This happens every day for a long time, my daily routine. I know that he will be coming up soon when the approval for his Social Security comes in and then I wont have to do this anymore.

I am also suffering from another disorder called substance addiction. I have been addicted to hard narcotics since I was fourteen years old, depression, anxiety and PTSD since twelve, have had numerous head injuries, the major damage done when i was ten years old with my cerebral area being damaged. Going undiagnosed for decades I self medicated for myself to feel normal. Now heroin addiction has been going on for some time due to getting hooked on pain killlers first and eventually they weren’t available and someone introduced me to heroin.

Heroin addicts do not, I repeat, do not, get high any more after they become addicted to the drug. They are physically addicted and mentally addicted. Obsessing over where to get dope, how to get the cash for the dope or hopefully get credit from your favorite dope boy so that you will not be deathly ill for three to seven days.

I eventually come up and when the dope gets to the house he gets out of bed with his hand out for me to put the package in it so he can crush it up, split it and then we begin to argue over the size of the lines not being equal. I feel like he doesn’t appreciate all the efforts I putintoo getting him well and bitch because he is greedy and takes most of the dope.

” I don’t know why I fucking bother giving you anything you don’t care about me. I should just do it without you knowing.” I say to him

Now it’s starting to get really crazy cause he has come to life. He won’t shut the fuck up and is saying so much hurtful stuff, calling me names, talking about me like I am dirt, telling me to get the fuck out of his house.. Now I am enraged, my blood boils over and I have crossed a line between suicidal and homicidal. Eventually, he antagonizes me to the point where I shove him hard.

The look on his face at that moment right before he decides to hit me is the scariest since the days of my father. He outweighs me by 80 pounds and stands at 6 feet tall. His hands cover my head from top to bottom of my chin and now he has me shoved up against the wall and is punching me in the head.

I am screaming for him to stop but he doesn’t. I protect my face the best I can. He lets me go for a minute and that’s when I try to get a good shot in or bite him if I get close enough to. This time I bite him in the chest which leaves my tooth prints there and a purple bruise lasting over a week. Now I am in for it as he snatches my hair and slams me into the wall. Not begging to stop now I am begging for him to kill me. I want to die just kill me.

In time this entire fiasco stops. He tells me he can’t live this way anymore. He cant take the fighting and arguing. He has never been one to hit women. I bring the worst in him out and he thinks we shouldn’t be together anymore.

The ultimate crushing blow is right now. He has betrayed me because he said he would always be with me and never leave or throw me out. I flip. I am crying hysterically. I threaten to kill myself Trying to get attention I eat a handful of his medications. In this attempt to kill me in front of him and he does nothing. I grab a knife to cut myself and begin to slowly slice my wrist in front of him He does nothing.

I begin to cry to God telling myself I am a stupid bitch. How could he even love me? I believed his lie and now he says I don’t want to be with you. I am once again hysterical and so lost, out of control, an abandoned, betrayed and lied to by this man who I thought loved me.

This can continue for hours or even days.When each of us has become calm enough to listen to the other I beg him to not give up on me, to not throw me away like everyone else has done. I needed him to believe in me and not leave me.

See, he knows that I have borderline personality disorder among other mental illness and disorders and that I have been working on getting better. I have come a long way since those days but have so much more to do. He also suffers from mental illness and disorders and together we are the most healthy relationship either has ever had even with all of what we go through. We both have been in relationships much worse than this One thing we do have is a love for each other and do the best we can. We have come to learn more about the other spending 24/7, 365 with each other.

BPD is curable and by hard work, therapy, and medication I can heal and renew my self and life. Facebook-20180130-091400

2 thoughts on “living with borderline personality disorder:

    1. Thank you for your comment. That is one of the issues with BPD we are afraid of being left rejected abandoned staying in relationships for that reason. Right now I am working with therapy to get better and overcome . borderline personality disorder is caused by abusive neglected childhood trauma by parents or caregivers

      Liked by 1 person

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