Being diagnosed with BPD hasn't been validating for me - quite the opposite. With this diagnosis, I feel as though I don't deserve to share the same spaces as "normal people". 


I don't really know how to describe or quantify it. All I know is that I feel intense shame, humiliation and guilt over not only negative behaviours I have resorted to in the past, but also over my attempts to become a more positive person. It's like when older people worry about wearing certain outfits or makeup because they feel like only younger people can do that - "mutton dressed as lamb". I'm mutton. I hate myself so deeply that it feels shameful and pathetic to treat myself kindly. I don't feel any lasting pride over anything I have accomplished in my life. 


I feel as though everyone around me thinks I'm pathetic and embarrassing, as though I'm barely even a person at all. I'm currently finishing up a Masters in Creative Writing and I want to write books for a living, but who would want to read my work? I'm not interesting or intriguing, I'm awkward and persistently depressed. 


I felt this shame initially in my teenage years, about my appearance. I became so embarrassed of my face and my body that I developed social anxiety and felt I couldn't join in on conversations, approach new people, or even look people in the eye or walk down the street, because I felt so anxiously embarrassed of what I was to look at. I was bullied for my slightly overweight body as a child and teenager, which I believe was the cause of all of this. 


I then developed eating disorders. First, anorexia. I lost a lot of weight. With each pound lost, my social anxiety melted a little, until I overcame it completely and became sociable, extroverted and confident. Later, binge eating disorder. All of the old feelings of shame and embarrassment returned, but now I feel embarrassed whenever I consume food, too. 


I continued to be bullied, criticised and belittled by people even into my adult life. Not for my appearance anymore, but for my awkwardness and shyness that people interpreted as rudeness, for my outbursts of crying, self-medication, self-harm, and self-hatred. People don't empathise with me, they look down on me, or pity me. 


I don't fear abandonment in the typical sense but I do think about all the friendships and relationships I have lost constantly, and blame myself for being such an awful person that people don't want to be around me, that people don't care about keeping me in their lives. I wonder what it was I said that made them happy to never see me again. I don't argue with my friends or verbally attack them, but I do internally grow clingy and despair when I feel they're not making time for me or supporting me emotionally.  Maybe they can feel that clinginess even though I don't outwardly portray it. Or maybe I don't deserve friendship because I'm so difficult to relate to.


All I know for sure is that I really hate myself and I'm really lonely. I do have friends, not many, but I do. I have a decent job that I have managed to retain even during lockdown which nearly destroyed me completely. I have my own place, two cats that I adore more than anything in the world, some interesting hobbies like writing and horse riding. I nearly have a Masters degree. I no longer binge eat, abuse substances or self-harm. I go to the gym five times per week. I take my medications and try to stick to some sort of routine. I go to therapy every single week no matter how I'm feeling. People tell me I'm doing so well. 


So why does it feel like I'm completely falling apart? Why do I continue to hate myself and expect everyone else to hate me, too? Why am I so embarrassed and ashamed over being born and living my life? Why do I belittle myself before others have the chance to do it for me? Why do I agonise over every little thing I have done in my life? 


I have done some bad things. I haven't "threatened" suicide but I have shared my unbearable pain and expressed how much I want to die. I once pretended to be pregnant in an attempt to get my abusive ex-boyfriend back. I have lied, stolen, cheated. Maybe I deserve all this shame. Maybe going through with suicide is the right decision, because I'm not worthy of life.