My Life With Borderline Personality Disorder: A Young Adult’s Perspective

A lot of older people say that kids nowadays are coddled and overprotected; shielded from figuring out how to fight their own battles so they can function in a cruel unforgiving world, a world where emotional regulation and conflict resolution skills are essential. I can’t speak for every millennial but in my case, they would be right.

The Rippling Tsunami

From a very young age, I remember having developmental issues. As early as Pre K, I had problems with comprehension and retaining information. I don’t remember much from my early childhood, but I do remember feeling like a burden to my teachers. My mom used to tell me a story that I have no recollection of. She used to tell me about a time when my Pre K teacher asked, “What’s up?”

I looked up at the ceiling and said, “Green!”

I’m not entirely sure if that’s a typical response from a three or four year old, but it seemed to have led to a continuous cycle of adults that thought there was something wrong with me, or I was just a bad kid. Nonetheless, they treated me accordingly, creating small ripples in a sea of resentment, as well as distrust for those in positions of authority. This led to a tidal wave of rage in which I inevitably drown in depression. My mom never developed enough emotional intelligence to handle such situations properly. I no longer blame my mother because she did the best she could with the skills she had; however, instead of making things better she did the exact opposite.

When I was nine, she took me to a psychiatrist who put me on Depakote. I went from being an overweight child to a morbidly obese one in a matter of months. By the time I was 12, I weighed over 200 pounds. I continued through my teen years and a small portion of my adult life on and off Benzodiazapines. Addiction was legally forced on me, priming me to be sick – and it worked for every adult around me. The medication stifled me by keeping me asleep or too apathetic to care, and I loathed myself for being so brain-dead. I had even more trouble retaining information and learning in school because all I wanted to do was sleep. I was considered “disabled.” No one said or did anything more and even if they wanted to I was already legally insane. My mom received nearly $700 a month from the government, making it easier for her not to assume any real parental responsibility.

The Rocky Mountain

As I grew older and became an adult, my illness became a crutch. I was frustrated, sluggish, spoiled and bloated; I barely had any strength or motivation to do anything. Something as simple as getting out of bed and bathing was like climbing Mount Elbert in Colorado; I knew something had to change. I couldn’t live that way forever and slowly began to realize that I either had to climb that Rocky Mountain, or stay at the bottom where I would eventually be crushed. I was only 21 and I was clinging to hope when eventually I found my strength. I started going for walks and doing Pilates. Once I felt comfortable, I did more intense cardio workouts and incorporated light weight training. I went through a disability program that introduced me to something called Personal Social Adjustment Training(PSAT). I never worked before and their job was to rehabilitate people in order to be functional in a job setting; they taught me some interpersonal skills as well. I also went through DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy), which delved deeper into interpersonal skills but also focused on emotional awareness and regulation. As I was going through DBT I was also going to cosmetology school, a setting in which I felt profoundly out of place. Although it didn’t work out, it did help me tremendously with my social skills. When I was 23, I decided to quit school and get a job at a pizza place where I did everything wrong and my intelligence was questioned on a regular basis. As in childhood, I was demeaned, belittled, shamed, and humiliated. Once again, I was back to feeling worthless and stupid. Regardless, I was still improving. During this time, I was working out, getting stronger and gaining confidence; which is something I was once shielded from because no one, including myself, thought I could handle it. I chose to expose myself to a world that made me feel uncomfortable and unwanted because it needed to be done.

The Desert and the Oasis

Amongst this barren wasteland, I found a translucent spring to quench my thirst for life. I manage my symptoms through writing and art. I care for animals for a living, which has not only boosted my self-esteem but my mental health as well. I continue to work out on a regular basis and eat a healthy well balanced diet. I’ve also found that exposure therapy has also been key to overcoming my anxiety. Although I do occasionally struggle with self-injury and suicidal ideation, I continue to push through; knowing that among the desert there is always an oasis.

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Author Bio:

Amanda is a loving pet sitter and adventurous house sitter hoping to fulfill her dreams of being a digital nomad.

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