Living With Borderline Personality Disorder
The discourse around mental health is changing. People are talking more and celebrities are sharing their experiences of depression or anxiety. The stigma surrounding these illnesses is being broken down, but that is not enough.
Everyone can relate to feelings of sadness and nervousness, and although clinical depression and anxiety disorders go far beyond “normal” emotions, it is easier for society to tackle these concepts psychologically. But, we need to talk about all mental health problems if we want things to change, because so much needs to change, both within our wider society and within the healthcare profession itself.
For example, people with schizophrenia or other psychotic disorders rarely have a good press - we only hear about these conditions in of the context of sensationalised newspaper headings about violence or murder. I have lived with people who were seriously unwell with schizophrenia in psychiatric wards for months on end and that opened my eyes. These people were unwell, yes, but the vast majority were not a danger to others, far from it. They were colourful and creative people who just needed help. In hindsight, I find it alarming that, before being hospitalised, I knew nothing about schizophrenia other than the misinformation that I’d been exposed to over the years. This needs to change. People with the less tangibly understood conditions need to be heard: sufferers of anorexia, dissociative identity disorder, OCD, schizophrenia and personality disorders.
And that’s where we come to an experience that is very personal to me. I have borderline personality disorder (BPD). Haven’t heard of it? I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t. Neither had I before I was diagnosed with it on my eighteenth birthday. At first, the diagnosis was a relief: it gave me insight into what had been happening to me for years and I felt hopeful that I would finally receive the treatment that I desperately needed.
This relief did not last long, though. Once I got home, I googled BPD, hoping to find reassurance, comfort or advice. That was not what I found. I found articles warning people about how “toxic” being in a relationship with someone with BPD is; blog posts about how sufferers are manipulative, dangerous, attention-seeking and untreatable. I found cautionary tales from people who implored their readers not to involve themselves with anyone with BPD, papers written by professionals stating that people with BPD form unhealthy and inappropriate attachments to professionals and that professionals should, therefore, tread carefully and keep their interactions with their patients to a minimum and put in firmer boundaries than normal in order to protect themselves.
I felt lost. I felt like I was evil. Did people really believe that I was the epitome of manipulation, lying and attention-seeking? I was discharged by the child and adolescent mental health services when I turned eighteen, and I vowed never to come into contact with a healthcare professional again. I wanted to disappear.
But without treatment, BPD can kill. Almost 80% of sufferers will attempt suicide at some point, and 10% of people with BPD will kill themselves. The figures are shocking but the flippant attitudes that are so common do not match up to the seriousness of this illness.
For me, when telling people that I have a personality disorder, it is often met with recoils and squirming. It’s an unfortunately named label, because it indicates that somehow the sufferer is inherently flawed, and this attitude leaks into the healthcare system.
I know too many people diagnosed with BPD who have been denied access to lifesaving treatment and have tragically lost their lives because of it.
For me, I have had my own close call. At nineteen, I entered the worst mental health crisis I have ever experienced. I was paranoid, hallucinating and very suicidal. I reached out for help from mental health services only to be told that “we don’t treat people with your diagnosis”, “we treat people with mental illnesses, not personality disorders”. I begged for help whilst my life spun completely out of control in a haze of drug abuse, serious self-harm and suicide attempts. My parents begged for help from mental health services. My friends begged for help. Everyone around me shouted loud and clear that I needed some support, but over and over I was met with the same closed doors, stigma fuelled excuses and rejection.
Eventually, things spiralled so out of control that I ended up in a coma in intensive care. I almost became another statistic. I am one of the lucky ones because I survived and, after I woke up, I was hospitalised, an admission which saved my life. My story didn’t end.
Early intervention is key. Offering people support before they hit crisis point is imperative, but because of a combination of underfunded services and the stigma and misconceptions surrounding BPD, most sufferers don’t receive help until the situation is dire. By then, self-destructive behaviours are more entrenched, episodes of psychosis are already crippling and people are more likely to die. Co-morbid conditions like eating disorders or mood disorders are often overlooked, and all symptoms are put under the “borderline personality disorder” umbrella. Without treating other conditions as well, it is very difficult to make progress in recovery. The view that people with BPD are pedantic and difficult to treat means that many areas in the country don’t offer important treatments that can help sufferers lead a more normal life, such as dialectical behavioural therapy, some medications or mentalization-based therapy.
Things need to change. Things need to change because people are dying. People with BPD need to rally together to make a change, but the change has to come from the public and the healthcare field as well. People need platforms to tell their stories, break down stigma and change things.
Peoples lives are on the line, and there is nothing more important than that.
Written by Ceylan Scott
“I’m an author of young adult fiction and an online advocate for mental health awareness. When I’m not writing, I’m spending time with my three dogs and doing photography.” Ceylan is also an online advocate for mental health awareness at @redefining_normal on Instagram.