I was first diagnosed with BPD when I was 21. Shortly after the diagnoses, I stopped seeing my psychiatrist. The reason for this, is because through out my childhood and adolescent years, I had been misdiagnosed with ADHD, bipolar and even schizophrenia. I couldn't stand being slapped with another label, another title to ruin my already frail and tattered self-image. I am 32 now, I have gone untreated for the last 11 years.

I have had countless jobs, couldn't hold one down for the life of me. My longest run of employment was 3 years doing flagging for road construction crews. It was an easier job for me, as I had little need of being exposed to people, next to no need to speak with anybody. Jobs where I had to regularly converse with people (retail, manufacturing, cooking, customer service) were difficult for me, as I have a strong distrust for people I don't know. 

Speaking about my relationships with people. I only ever had one long-term relationship (3 years) and it ended horribly... she left me literally 10 minutes after I had watched my father die in front of me. Now this woman wasn't a bad person, she did a lot of good for me. She got me off the liquor, hard drugs, got me employed, made me feel good about myself. Nobody else had ever cared about/for me like she did. She was patient, always waiting for the day I would change into a productive human. Well, that day never came. The stress in my life had driven her away, and the last straw was my father's death. I didn't know how to process it, I was feeling this horrendous mixture of hatred and obsession towards her. I have stayed single for the past 7 years because of those feelings. Because I don't ever want to feel anything like that ever again, and I trust even less now to ever let anyone in again.

My family life was alright, growing up. No biological father in my life (because he was a skinhead neo-nazi fuckstick). My family was strongly matriarchal, the women made the important decisions, while the men were the breadwinners. Old-fashioned upbringing, I know. But it was pretty good. Mum was loving, caring and thoughtful. But stern when she needed to be, as she doled out the discipline if we acted up. My dad (step-father, the one that passed away) taught me how to raise animals, carpentry skills, farming, all that good country stuff. They had one hell of a time raising me. I was a terrible kid. But they tried their hardest to raise me and my little sister.

My sister, died in 2018. That was some heavy shit. She had committed suicide in a homeless shelter. She was bipolar, on drugs, but was generally cheerful and positive most of the time. She had her upsets when she drank, and alcohol ultimately lead to her suicide. But what was a real "slug to the gut" was when people (yes, plural) told me that they had expected me to kill myself before her... they didn't even say it out of malice. I had attempted suicide on a couple occasions, technically died and was brought back after one of them. So I could see how people thought I was gonna go first.

Present day me: I sit alone in my apartment, in constant anxiety because of how isolated I feel, but too depressed and full of self-hatred to do anything about it. 32 years old, and I fucked myself right good because I never sought help. Still don't plan too... unless you count this post.

I'm not expecting replies, or messages, or anything like that. I just want to say to others who suffer with BPD: seek treatment, don't make the mistakes I made, it's not too late. 

And before anyone tells me to take my own advice, I live by the whole "Do as I say, not as I do." Motto. So, I'm not receptive to help.