That title probably sounds weird right?

Borderline Personality Disorder is a really complex, life-interfering condition with a huge negative stigma attached to it. And don’t get me wrong, living with BPD is incredibly hard. But I’m equally incredibly thankful for my diagnosis.

Let me explain.

Before I was diagnosed with BPD, I had a diagnosis of anxiety and depression for around 2-3 years. I was on antidepressants, which helped somewhat, and had attempted CBT, which sadly left me feeling worse.

Whilst I was on a placement year at the University of Exeter, I regularly saw the same GP, who specialised in mental health cases. She picked up on a pattern of behaviour which she felt did not match my diagnosis. I wasn’t having long periods of low mood, but more triggered episodes of crisis often linked to difficulties in relationships and challenges to my self-image. I had some marked impulsively, largely in regards to self-harm and suicidal behaviour.

She calmly explained to me that she felt I might instead have Borderline Personality Disorder. Fast forward around 4 weeks and a 2 psychiatric assessments and it was all confirmed.

This period of my life feels like a blur. I was largely dissociating for most of the time, experiencing a complex relationship loss and coming towards the end of my placement year, facing the dreaded return to university. But in and amongst the fear and confusion of this period a sense of relief.

For a while I had suspected my behaviour wasn’t quite fitting my diagnosis; I had friends with depression and anxiety and I wasn’t quite like them. I was much more reactive, and my symptoms, although more short-lived, were far more intense. Having the right diagnosis meant I finally felt I had a label that fit. It was validating to know I wasn’t alone in my experiences and to know my diagnostic label would allow professionals and those around me to have a clearer understanding of what was going on for me.

Getting a diagnosis also opened a lot of doors for me. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, it got me the right medication, in my case, Quetiapine. I’ve already written about how this truly changed my life, and how thankful I am that my GP suggested this course of treatment, so I won’t bore you with repeating myself.

Although I wasn’t able to engage with a DBT programme due to having dual-addresses (as is often a complex barrier to treatment for students) I was able to learn about it and apply the skills myself. I was actually running a DBT group at the time as part of my placement so I had access to the programme and all materials indirectly. It also helped me to understand why CBT hadn’t worked for me, and had left me feeling worse. I began to understand the importance of feeling validated in my emotions, as opposed to having my very thoughts challenged.

I learnt where my behaviours stemmed from (largely exposure to domestic violence and psychological abuse in childhood) and this allowed me to challenge the unhelpful ones as and when they occurred. I was able to recognise the behaviours that were once adaptive had served there purpose and no longer needed. I learnt ways of reassuring myself I was safe and was able to communicate to those around me what was going on internally during periods of crisis.

I also learned the power of acceptance. For so long I believed that my intense emotional responses meant I was somehow broken. I believed I was too much for people (which wasn’t helped by an ex who told me this outright) and my entire sense of self depended on how others treated me. But since diagnosis, I am now able to view them as things I learnt to survive a difficult situation, which are no longer needed.

One of my favourite DBT phrases is as follows

You are doing the best you can right now with the skills you have, even if you could do better

Having a diagnosis has taught me so much about myself. It’s taught me about my past, and helped me in vision a different future. I’ve learnt I am hugely compassionate and empathetic, and harnessed these skills in my work with offenders. I’ve learnt the importance of allowing my emotions to play out, as opposed to trying to force them away. I’ve learnt I need regular self-care days to manage, and that this doesn’t make me lazy or selfish. I’ve learnt how to fall in love and to be loved, but to not allow my sole sense of worth to come from another. And I’ve learnt how to quieten that inner child, scared and desperate to keep my safe. To thank her, but also to reassure her, and to care her.

My diagnosis means my mind finally makes sense to me, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Lorna

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