Sunday 5 June 2016

The Things They Never Say


Last week, yet another incredibly offensive article popped up on my news feed about the perils of being in a relationship with someone with Borderline Personality Disorder. At its best Sophie Saint Thomas' Vice article, What Is It Like to Date When You Have Borderline Personality Disorder, describes it as 'hard for partners to focus on other things in their life if their relationship is so demanding', and its worst BPD is described as 'an illness about pain, fear, and struggling'.

Pain, fear and struggling, what a great introduction to a condition that makes up such a significant part of my personality. I may put it on my CV under special skills, "So why should I hire you?', "Because I live each day with an illness compiled of pain, fear and struggling, and I can fit my fist in my mouth". I'd get my dream job in a hot minute!

Obviously, I'm kidding, but that doesn't mean that Saint Thomas' article isn't hideously offensive. Casual observers are quick to judge the bad side of BPD, the screaming, the crying, the cutting and the all around self destructive behaviour, but no one ever even mentions the positive, that for ever intensely dark period I go through, there is an equal high just waiting for me.

Remember when you were a kid, and you'd jump in puddles or throw yourself into a pile of leaves, that pure sense of unquestionable elation that you so seldom feel when you're sat at a desk, drowning in emails and trying to make even the smallest amount of sense out of the words in front of you? I still get to feel that. Be it through meeting someone new, listening to a great song or playing with bubbles when I do the washing up. A date once asked me what it must be like to still have the imagination of a child and, to all intense and purposes, I still do. What goes down must come up and for the longest time I withstood the dark patches, forgoing medication and therapy because I knew things were about to become so euphoric it was worth the pain to get there.

Since then I've realised I can't function without basic treatment and have been taking mood stabilisers and anti depressants for well over a year now, but the highs are still there. The happiness I feel is something I've been trying to explain to doctors, nurses and psychiatrists for years, and I hate that it's so completely ignored in the analysis and description of BPD. You may get to live a stable life with a regular mood, but I feel intense happiness like nothing I could ever describe.

So, Sophie Saint Thomas, next time you decide to write an article about BPD, maybe get yourself a more balanced opinion before you start tapping at those keys. I find it hard enough to meet people I want to date in the first place, I don't need you scaring them off for me.

That's my job :P

xXx

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