In her retirement, my grandmother liked to solve elaborate jigsaw puzzles with my brother and I. My parents would oftentimes drop my brother and I off at my grandparents' house and we'd do nothing but solve these puzzles and watch movies all weekend. I remember when I was about seven, the three of us completed a beautiful jigsaw puzzle depicting a sunset on a prairie and a deep red barn. After it was done, my grandmother commanded us to help her break the puzzle apart and put it back in its box. My brother, five at the time, began to take out chunks of the puzzle and throw them across the dining room table. I can think of no better allegory of my inner life than that puzzle; ripped apart at birth and hurled across the room. 

When I was diagnosed with BPD in 2012, I felt like I had found a large chunk of my puzzle. BPD explained my emotional volatility, paranoia, but most importantly it told me the cause of my lack of identity. That was the biggest revelation for me. My therapist hasn't questioned my BPD diagnosis at all, so I'm certain I have it. What bothers me is that BPD doesn't explain *everything.* I still feel like part of my puzzle is sitting in a potted plant somewhere dark and I'll never find it. I'm considering speaking to my psychiatrist about undiscovered comorbidities, but I really have no idea why I feel this way all of the sudden. After my BPD diagnosis it was like I could run away from myself for a minute and look at how I am on the outside, but now I feel bound to myself, crucified. Is this normal for people with BPD? 