CW: mentions of suicidal ideation and eating disorders, although not the primary focus of this post.

That’s what a therapist asked me today during an intake appointment. This was after giving him my 15 year mental health history and several assessments. No, no one has ever told me I might have BPD. But now I’m rethinking the past 15 years of my life. 

I had an idyllic childhood, my parents weren’t perfect, but I was in no way abused or traumatized. But I have always been “too sensitive” or my favorite “too much”. Too much to maintain friendships for longer than about two years, too much for people in general. Just too much. I was too much for high school and emotionally immature and expected the world of my friends. I wanted my friendships to be like the ones I saw on TV. Too much. So much that I started to hate myself so much that I developed an eating disorder and depression. Prozac saved my life for a bit.

I spent my late teens and early twenties in college as a religious freak. No one questions how hyper-emotional you are if it’s for jesus. But it wasn’t normal. I’m still angry no one helped me then. I had no healthy relationship, all of them were toxic. I threw myself at things I thought would give me a sense of self and belonging. It always worked for a little bit but never lasted. It always ended in screaming crying fits and sometimes physically running away. 

I never thought about how I never saw anyone else act like that.

Got some degrees (and working on my third right now) because school is about the only thing I’ve ever been good at. Ruined my relationships every couple of years, moved through so many cities and states. Moved through so many iterations of my identity and I still have no idea who I am. Changed my meds every few years when I’d have a major meltdown, flirt with Suicide like an old familiar friend, and require friends and family help to recognize that I’m not ok again. Got used to hearing the phrase “your body has developed a tolerance”. If you can name it, I’ve been on it. Just accepted “ok this is depression and anxiety, this is your life, that’s all there is to it” and every few years you need a jumpstart of CBT and a shiny new SSRI. Thing would be ok for a little while, but the cycle always stared again.

15 years of this cycle and about twice as many mental health providers. Just my life.

So after a month of waiting to speak to another stranger about how I’ve never really been happy, I hate myself like oil hates water, I feel my current relationship is in crisis, and this has been my story for 15 years.

“Has anyone ever told you you might be borderline?”

No one has ever told me that. But fuck if it doesn’t explain a LOT. 

Things aren’t ok. He didn’t want to formally diagnose me today (even though he said I met diagnostic criteria)and also doesn’t want to  continue to see me (my needs are above his pay grade apparently). I’m on a waitlist at three centers in my city to meet with some specialists. But Christ does it feel like I’m not batshit for once.

I’ve always felt like I’m dying to go home but I don’t know where home is. Like a crying kid lost in a mall or something. Then I started seeing that exact same sentiment echoed in some of the top posts of all time here.

I’m not really sure what I’m trying to accomplish writing all this, it kind of feels like word vomit at this point. I guess there’s some level of comfort into just a little more insight into why I am the way that I am. 

I guess it’s also nice to know that I might not be so alone after all.