What would you do if, for your entire life, you were a mystery to yourself?
For the past fifteen years, my reality has been a backseat car ride. I sit, watching the scenery go by, being taken by whomever cares to drive me around. Sometimes it’s my best friend, or my crush, or even the really cool girl from the gas station. Gaining an identity, a sense of self, so to speak, is hard. Gaining an identity when you have BPD is harder.
Borderline Personality Disorder (or BPD, as it’s often known by) is categorized by “unstable moods, behavior, and relationships.” Though many often hear the name and confuse it with dissociative identity disorder (“split personality”), they are very different. One involves “two or more distinct or split identities,” the other involves a fluid, changing identity that is never set in stone, influenced by the mediums around you.
I’ve only recently noticed/self-diagnosed (YES, I said self-diagnosed; I don’t currently have the means/support for professional help) my disorder about a year ago, after experiencing one of my biggest meltdowns of my fifteen years of living. It’s been something I’ve been ashamed of, usually because I’m the only one out of my group of friends with a long-term mental illness. It’s made me feel broken, out of touch, abnormal.
One of the biggest things about BPD, mentioned in its formal definition, is its effect on relationships. People with borderline personality disorder often have an inability to form – or at least keep – long-term, healthy relations with other people. Sufferers of BPD can go from loving someone like a sister to hating them like a nemesis to loving them as a sister once again. This sort of exchange can happen with friends, partners, or even family members.
My constant need for affection and approval is what is constantly driven by my BPD. Often times, I feel neglected by people at any given time. FOMO – Fear of Missing Out – is my greatest affliction.
Forget clowns, spiders, or death.
I’m afraid of missed sleepovers.
Of course, this fear also stems from my journey as a pariah the first two years of middle school, in which people would craft events around days I would not be able to attend. Days like those fueled the latent BPD hiding around my frontal lobe, waiting to pounce.
The friends I currently hold near and dear to my heart attend a different school than I do, which does nothing to curb the raw feelings of abandonment swirling around my stomach, but their acceptance, understanding, and approval does do something. For five years, these guys have been my rock through the ups and downs of my life, so I thank them plentifully for that.
Speaking of acceptance and approval, another thing with BPD is that you have no idea who you are as a person without someone being there to drive you to your destination, where you will stay until you hitch a ride onto someone new (which, frankly, does not take very long). You often craft a mental image of who you want to be, when you want to be it, and who you seek to please by doing so. In the words of a blogger with BPD, “I know that different people like different personalities, and I want to please everyone. I want as much approval and acceptance as possible, so I change my identity, mood, opinions, everything to match the people I’m with. I somehow want to be universally accepted, else I am worthless.” I know that different people like different personalities, and I want to please everyone. I want as much approval and acceptance as possible, so I change my identity, mood, opinions, everything to match the people I’m with. I somehow want to be universally accepted, else I am worthless.” I cultivate who I am for who I’m with, only allowing the closest of friends I have see the true me (whoever she is).
My most recent case of mirroring occurred the entirety of the first year of my high school; I sought out the approval of a student writer – a senior at school – that I’d been admiring for quite sometime. I joined the clubs she joined, took the classes she took.. I was on my way to following her path exactly – as if the footsteps in the cement didn’t dry.
Almost halfway through the year, I found her twitter. I followed her, she didn’t follow back. It crushed me to pieces, but I still continued. I remember it took me an entire two days to recover from what I deemed ‘the ultimate rejection.’ A few months later, I spotted her coming out one of the classrooms. I was with a friend, and said friend knew her (from a mutual class they shared together). They were having a conversation as I stood there, in awe that my idol, after months of trying to speak to her, was in front of me, living and breathing. However, when I tried to hop in the conversation with her, she gave off an air of annoyance that took the shards of my heart and put them in a blender.
A month or so after that, I kept questioning who I was as a person. I spent my entire first year of high school mirroring the perfect person, only to have my dreams crushed by whomever I was emulating. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it’ll hopefully be my last, as I am currently on a journey to kick my disorder out and begin a new life with an identity of my own.
Okay, yes, I still am attempting to fill her shoes, but only because I’ve found her life to be appealing, and something I actually want to pursue. My music tastes, clothing styles, and such have all, however, been cultivated by what’s around me. I change what style I like in a second, just to adapt to whatever is ‘hip,’ though I often find myself slowly growing to liking whatever I mirror. It’s the same with personality traits – I find myself liking the way of walking I pick up from this girl, or the manner of speaking i get from that guy.
I don’t currently have a general understanding of who I am, but I hope that I’ll find it out soon. Sometimes I like to think that every bit of a person I take to build myself, as well as every piece of what’s taken that I discard, is a step closer to me finding my identity. I dream of a future in which I function as one being, not a body with Suzanne’s music taste and David’s hobbies..
I’ve got an awesome friends and family, though BPD is something that – personally – I would rather dance with alone. To anyone with Borderline Personality: I love you. You hang on, you’ll find yourself. It’s easier said than done, but it’s worth the wait. I promise.
