I get a lot of people asking me how I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder on my social media, and so I figured I’d write a blog about it.

Ive eluded to the process in previous posts but never fully outlined it.

To begin with, shortly after I had a breakdown at university, I went to see my hometown GP and was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I received treatment for this over the coming few years and after suspending my degree for a year I returned to university on placement year.

My placement was in a clinic that operated from within a university, and I registered at the campus GP. When registering I asked if they had a GP who specialised in mental health and they did. I booked in to see her and generally saw her once a month for check ups.

During this year I decided I was ready to begin dating, perhaps thinking I was more mentally stable than I actually was. Like many people my age at the time I joined Tinder alongside my housemate.

To begin with, this was just a bit of fun. We both found it hilarious going on dates and coming gone and exchanging horror stories of the disastrous nights we’d had.

Eventually I started dating a few people. But unfortunately, as I’m sure is pretty common in dating, after 4-6 weeks of seeing each other we realised we weren’t suited for one another. No big deal, right?

Not to me.

This happened around 3-4 times during the course of the year. Each time it did, no matter how disinterested in the guy I was, it felt like the end of the world to me. Rejection felt like my heart had been ripped out and run over by a truck. It felt like confirmation I was a worthless person who would never possibly be happy and life was no longer worth living. I became a wreck. Unable to eat, sleep or function. I spent nights crying and self-harming, each time getting gradually more and more severe.

Thankfully, I was able to be really honest with the GP I was seeing and each time I told her about what was going on for me. She listened, and never judged, each time giving me additional support as and when I needed it, be this medication or emergency therapy referrals. She was fab.

She picked up on this pattern, and one day, after another relationship ended and left me suicidal she said

“this doesn’t feel like depression to me. Please don’t panic but I think you might have what’s called Borderline Personality Disorder.”

She explained my symptoms, whilst severe, were more reactive than constant, and that my lows seemed to be linked to a sense of abandonment and low self-worth associated with this.

She informed me she wanted me to be referred for a psychiatric assessment and they could help me find the right step forward.

From here, it’s a bit of a blur. I was in a really bad mental state at the time as a close friend was moving countries, and I had all the emotions associated with abandonment constantly brewing beneath the surface. I was in and out of a dissociated state, frequently going into crisis. I was taking heady medication just to get through each day and really do struggle to remember this time clearly.

I received an appointment for an assessment pretty quickly at the local hospital. I saw what I believe was a mental health nurse first, who took a detailed history and got an idea of what had been happening recently. She was very kind and agreed she felt there was grounds to see a psychiatrist as she too felt I met the criteria for BPD.

A few weeks later I met with a psychiatrist at the same hospital. She had received my history and spoke with me about my current circumstances. I don’t remember this assessment much at all, other than at the end when she told me that she agreed I had Borderline Personality Disorder, and that she would refer me for DBT.

A few weeks later I received a letter outlining the results of my assessment, and there it was, in black and white, my diagnosis.

Unfortunately this is kind of where it ended for me. My placement year came to an end less than a month later, and living between home and university for my final year of university meant I was deemed unable to commit to DBT.  So I continued receiving care from a GP and a community treatment team as and when needed.

I am so thankful to the GP who was able to spot my pattern of behaviour, and recognise it was something other than depression and anxiety. That she got to know me well enough, and made me feel safe enough, to see the full picture.

I seriously wonder if I’d have been at home experiencing similar problems, in a rural area with poorer health services and less educated GPs, would I ever have received a diagnosis, or would I have continued to be told I was just depressed? Would I still even be here? Or would crisis after crisis without appropriate treatment have been the end of me?

It really doesn’t bear thinking about.

Lorna
x