Apologies in advance for the long-ish post. I’m a baby BPD, on the quieter end of the spectrum. I knew I’d been miserable for a long time, but it wasn’t until I came across a description of what quiet BPD is like that I realized just how fucked up I was. So I immediately book the first therapist who was able to see me (big mistake, in hindsight) and we do our first session. Now granted this was my first time trying therapy so I might have gone in with the wrong approach, which was basically to say I thought I had BPD (hit 8 of the 9 diagnostic criteria) and explained how I felt each one had impacted my life.

I could tell during the session that the therapist just wasn’t into it – felt like they were zoning out while I was spilling my fucking guts (this shit was and remains extremely difficult for me to talk about) and it just felt off. I haven’t gotten this with other therapists I’ve seen, so I’m inclined to believe that was me reading the room correctly rather than BPD paranoia. Anyways we get to the end of the session and I ask if she thinks I have BPD. I get the whole spiel about how she doesn’t “believe” in diagnoses generally, especially after one meeting, but she didn’t think I did. Her exact quote was, “You need to understand, BPD isn’t a mood – it’s a way of existing in the world.” And I was like “Lady, I’ve literally spent the last HOUR trying to explain exactly that to you.” (And while this was a truly shitty experience, I have found that phrasing useful to describe things to other people)

Needless to say I didn’t book a follow-up with her, but the comment fucked me up for a solid two months. I really struggle with thinking that I’m faking this shit (which I know is pretty common generally and specifically among those of us towards the quieter end), but given how much it took me to fucking reach out in the first place…I just couldn’t get past it. Started blaming myself hard – I clearly didn’t communicate well, my fault. I picked the wrong therapist, my fault. I went in with a self-diagnosis, my fault (there is at least SOME validity to that point in hindsight). Clearly I wasn’t struggling enough to need help, so then I felt guilty and worthless for reaching out in the first place. And the bitch of it is, despite ALL OF THAT, despite feeling seen for the first time really in my life when I’d come across the description of quiet BPD (I’d gone through the typical suspicion cycles of ASD, Bipolar, ADHD, etc. but nothing else really seemed to fully fit with what I’d been struggling with) I of course believed her that I didn’t have it. In my low moments I still replay the comment, the completely dismissive tone, and more than three months on, after seeing other therapists who’ve confirmed and empathized and actually had a shred of compassion for what I was going through, I still get stuck on it. 

Good therapy has been productive (sometimes), and something I truly want to stay with. But I completely understand the folks on here who just don’t bother with it at all. I feel like bad therapy was worse for me than no therapy.

Anyways, finding this little community has been hugely validating, especially to see others experiencing the same roadblocks in therapy that I’ve encountered. With my tendency to self-blame, I’ve truly held on to that notion that I was just failing at therapy, just like I failed at life, because I was nothing if not a failure who was completely unworthy of help. It truly means the world to me know I’m not alone in this. I’m still struggling, but finding this group has at least made me feel like I’m not completely alone in this.