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BPD Stories

Real life BPD stories from real people...

Reading other BPD peoples' real-life stories can be soothing and calming.. when you realize that you are not the only one who suffer from this mental disorder..

For this reason I encourage you to, first, read through the stories presented here, and, then, send in your personal BPD story. Who knows, your story might help someone in this world go through his or her BPD challenge much easier.

Send your story at Michael.BPD@gmail.com . Please put "BPD Story" in the subject line. Also please mention exactly how you want your name to be shown on the website.

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Jennifer's BPD Story...

“Hello, I am Jennifer. I will keep this short and sweet and to the point.

I am BPD. Sexual abuse and continual family trauma consumed the majority of my life. I am 34 years old. Single, Married and divorced and two children from two different fathers.

I was so embarrassed the first time I read about BPD. It fit me perfectly, but I was so angry. The thing was, I thought I had it all figured out. I was like a master manipulator, and boy I honestly thought I was a genius, just to find out I suffered from a personality disorder. That was humiliating. Big time!

People looked at me like I was outgoing, pretty, funny, smart. I was a good actress. Everyone loved me. I thought I could do everything. I tried just about everything. I had great boyfriends. Great jobs.

I excelled at everything I did. This is why I did this. I wanted to feel worthy and important. Every time I accomplished something I would soon realize that that nasty feeling still consumed me. What feeling. If you are a Borderline, you know what feeling I speak of. The huge ache in the middle of your chest. The one that makes you just want to go to sleep forever. The void.

Finally… FINALLY.. I was like.. what in the hell is wrong with me. I started getting real with myself. I started to ask questions. Like, why did I cheat on my boyfriend? Why doesn’t anything make me happy? How come I can’t find a career that I like. I would do a school, make a 4.0 gpa. It didn’t matter. I met and hung out with celebrities. Never mattered. I won singing awards. Didn’t matter. Awarded for Military achievements. Never mattered.

So this was what it was like. At moments I felt so smart. But the majority of the time I felt inadequate. The pain. Yuk!

So one day, a psychologist ask me, what do you want to be when you grow up? I was 31 at the time, I think. A couple of thoughts ran through my mind simultaneously. First was… what the hell?! Second was, I am already grown up, we are way past that lady. But a moment of clarity rose, and I spoke. I told the psychologist that I could care less what I did. I could care less who I was, or what I had so long as I had peace. God, just give me peace.

I have been doing meditation. I also have been using a program with self affirmations. There has been layer of layers of things to work on. But when I feel overwhelmed, I ask myself this question. What do I want? Peace. Then I stop and think what HAS to be done in this moment. I am talking chores or whatever. I keep it real simple and basic instinct. I just stop and tell myself to don’t do a damn thing except experience some peace for the moment.

See, the way I look at it is this. I have spent my whole life in emotional turmoil. People pleasing, acting.. such a tough job. I obey the law and care for my children… bottom line. Keep it simple stupid, is a saying I like to use. I am not real sure about other Borderlines but I tend to analyze the hell out of everything… and aren’t we so genius> :)   We are really smart but just for the wrong reasons. But props to us for using what we did have to try and survive in an invalidating world.

My conclusion is this. No matter who you are or what you have or what you have done makes not a whole lot of difference. It is whether you can be at peace with yourself or not. People damn near kill themselves to be famous or rich. Only to reach it and still not find happiness. My suggestion, is what I am doing right now. Loving myself. Not beating myself up. Even if I am having a crappy day and make lots of mistakes… I say well, that is me and I accept me. By God, if it is the last thing you do, you had better love yourself because nothing will ever get any better until you do. You are human.. that is what makes you worthy? Do you hear me? You are flesh and blood!! That is the bottom line, and that is what I tell myself daily.

I would like to Thank Michael for all his time and effort. He has made this BPD thing for me so much comprehendible, enough to get a handle on it, whereas others in the area would have us feel that there is no hope, but of course there is. There always is.

You are not alone. What we BPD’s do, we DO together!!!

(And now, I say what I mean, and mean what I say. Because it is what I believe… not looking for my  “self” in the reflections of others eyes!! Feels good!)

Good luck!




Kassandra's BPD Story...

“Hi! My name is Kassandra. Like many of you, I was abused in childhood in unimaginable ways. My birthmother  could not raise me due to her schizophrenia. She had been abused as well. I was raised by some friends of my father, and I felt abandoned by my moms family since they were wealthy but never got involved in my life. My adoptive parents humiliated and beat me constantly, even cutting all my hair off on occasion. I was forced to drink water until I vomited, and nearly drowned in a swimming pool. My father would visit, and sexually abused me. Although quite bright in school, I dropped out due to my depression. I obtained a GED but soon after became pregnant with my first son. I began choosing men that used me and I had two more boys with different fathers. I frequently raged at my partners. I thought I was hideous and stupid.  My children all have varying degrees of autism, and I soon discovered I couldn’t handle the stress. I frequently yelled at them and had panic attacks. As my anxiety turned into agoraphobia, I made the heartwrenching decision to put my eldest in state care, and my others with my friend. That was when I discovered I have bpd. I definitely believe my bpd made it that much harder to cope with my childrens disabilities, and I believe they are in better hands now. I miss them dearly. I have moved back to my hometown of Miami, and just knowing more about bpd has created enormous changes. I am about to begin a new waitressing job near the beach, and am looking into going to college. I have supportive friends, and although I still struggle with my confidence and relationships, I am learning to see my qualities as well as choosing better friends and building trust with them. I was astounded to see that super successful men have asked me out on dates, I even went on a few dates in a ferrari with the vice president of a hotel chain. Not too shabby huh? But I also know my self esteem needs to come from me, not them, and not allow them to use me. I feel like I am very close to a full recovery, and I wish that for everyone who is suffering because of a past that still haunts you.  Hope everyone has a great holiday and thanks for reading my story:).”



Karen's BPD Story...

“Dear Reader,

 I am a 44 year old woman who was diagnosed with BPD over 20+ years ago. Please understand that I have managed to live a life to the best of my abilities in spite of my disability.  I call this a *disability* only in the aspect that through the past 20+years, my BPD had caused me considerable amount of pain.

As many BPD’s, my childhood was littered with emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.   My father was an abuser (both physically, emotionally and with a sexual undercurrent).  Many times in my childhood I would see a man and envision him being my father, wishing he was my father, abandoning my father and wishing beyond hope that *this* man could somehow be my father.  It could have been a handyman around the house, or a city worker or whatnot, I envisioned this new man as my father….and I obsessed.

Many times in my teens and early 20′s I would cut myself (with a razor blade), just to feel ‘something’….anything.  I went through a promiscuous time of life, letting men use me, physically and sexually….later in my dating I would allow them to use me psychologically.  I never knew if they were in town or not, they said they were yet I would see them in traffic or whatnot.  I played Russian Roulette with my life (literally) take a pill…wash it down with booze etc…see what would happen. I went through an eating disorder also, binges followed by anorexia.  This became a way of life for me.  I had 3 suicide attempts.  I have spent 15+ years in therapy. I met a man in my mid 20′s who seemed to be everything to me.  Little did I know he was the worst man I could ever meet ( we had a lot of dysfunctional sex….S/M, in which I was the submissive).  He is a narcissist, an abuser, and everything I ever wanted in a man….I have somehow managed to keep him in my life all these years by emailing him every now and then…for the past 6 months we developed a relationship (online).  He is impossible to obtain (he is married) he treats me exactly the way my father did (although he would have online sex with me), he acts like he loves me but pulls away….and HE MAKES ME OBSESSED!!!  This is why I write.  My BPD has entirely kicked in from meeting up with him again, he says he wants me but abandons me (it’s been 2+weeks) and my abandonment issues are kicked into high gear….I simply cannot go on without him…yet, he is gone.  My solution is to flirt with other men to keep my abandonment issues at bay, and to not allow this man to completely ruin my self esteem (knowing other men will acknowledge me), as many BPD’s find comfort in having other men pay them attention and they seek male attention to obtain their self worth…. however, keep in mind I am married, my BPD issues override ALL of this, it is sad to say, and I feel remorseful because of this.  However, the inner drive feels almost insurmountable.

I strive to find my peace in this life, in this world….. my sanctuary, my safe haven.  I sit here next to my Christmas tree (wrapped in a blissful Thursday December night)….with my son sitting on the opposite sofa, my 2 mini dachshunds laying next to me (everything I’ve created after all these years)….carefully pondering when I will ‘at last find my my peace’….perhaps this is it…. perhaps I am living my *peace*….what on earth am I still searching for???…why am I still so lonely???  I continue on, but it is a thought….an awe inspiring thought….perhaps *this* IS my peace….I just don’t see it as such.  I am forever searching for something more…..anything (to fill the void).  And this my friend, is how I define BPD….the never ending void.




Danielle's BPD Story...

"I am 31. I'm a mother to 3 daughters and I am a diagnosed borderline personality.

Firstly, I was not sexually abused. I was witnessed to terrible domestic violence under the age of 3. My father was a terrible abused man who's mother tormented him and created a very emotionally disconnected, cold, impatient and irritated human. My mother was a victim of rape by her boyfriend and his best friend. Both my parents were young and disturbed in my opinion. I was raised with an undercurrent feeling of hate and resentment. My mother suffered postnatal depression and therefore emotionally abandoned me from birth. My father became my primary carer. Due to the domestic violence my parents where stuck in my father left. Of course meaning I had now been abandoned by both my parents in different ways. To cut a long story shorter both my parents re married new partners, had another child each while adding extra step children into my world then divorced again removing step children and re married a third time each. Also my mother changed her sexual preference in this time period. Plus I moved 100 miles from where I grew up losing all my family and all my friends. I wasn't happy child. I was over emotional, rigid in my thinking and confused by the adults around me. I was a dramatic child. I desperately seeked love and attention from my parents but they just didn't like me. I was raised in an environment of ignore attention seeking and punish unwanted behaviour. For example: If I missed dinner, I was not allowed to eat at all for 24hrs. I was kicked out and excluded from my mothers life and pulled back in as her personal babysitter. I got £5 a week to feed myself at 14. I had to work for my mum to stay at home. I lived in the garage and had to ask permission to use the toilet.

I am a compulsive dramatic story teller and I guess lier. (However, what I 'm saying now in this email is truth) I am stuck in a pit of my own madness. I am so angry, I could rip the skin off my body. To the every day person I am well presented, sociable and confident. Know me a little bit I am a split personality. Either good or pure evil nothing more or less. To the mental health team I am classed as a high functioning border. This makes me laugh. I am in literal hell. I sit in a shower for whole days trying to sooth my breaking emotional body.

I am a prolific self harmer. I hate myself. I gave up cutting but I crave it. I use to drink bleach. I am a notorious pill popper.

At 17 I experienced a sexual encounter that changed who I was. I will not call it rape but I don't think you can call it consensual. I fell pregnant. I aborted the baby. Then, I think in a bizarre post traumatic way, I recreated the experience over and over ended in over 10 pregnancies. I had a mental break down. Never hospitalised but I should have been. I was dangerous.

My tolerance for people and life is much better as a whole. But I still have periods where I want to smash my head into pieces to end my narcissistic, manipulating behaviour to control my environment because of the fear and anger I am stuck in.

I am in therapy. Have been for 5 years. It helps. I am jealous of other people.

I am lost. I am stuck between doing well and completely falling part. I don't really know who I am because I don't stay the same for long enough to find out.

I find this disorder hard. I feel normal to me but I can see by the reaction of others I am not normal. I'm gutted because I want to be.

I think I am the classic rebellion border. Child stuck in an adult world.

I have trained to be a counsellor. My good side wants to help and cares. I care and feel empathic to my fellow man. Unfortunately I am also massively paranoid and incredibly self destructive.

I wrote this because being diagnosed hasn't help me. If anything it makes my life much harder. I use it to my benefit (I'm not stupid) but my actual internal pain is horrific. I feel separated from the rest of the world. In a different time zone sometimes. I loss my sense of belonging. I can't explain how my world is to people without borderline. It's frustrating.

Well, there's my story for today.
I wish you all peace. :)"


Lydia's BPD Story...

"My name is Lydia.

I’m a 20 year old girl and I was the first born child to my parents who did not have a healthy relationship. I found out when I was older that they would constantly cheat on each other. I grew up as a pretty normal child, went to school and had a group of friends. I was really shy. Half of my family one day moved a couple of hours north, so some weekends we would go and visit them, one of them being my male cousin about 10 years older than me. I must have only been 6 or 7 at the time, I don’t remember exactly, but when I would go he would take me into his room and make me touch his genitals and taught me how to give a hand job. He told me not to tell anyone or I would get into trouble because I was dirty. I think this only happened a couple of times because I didn’t like it and stopped going. I never told anyone. My childhood continued fairly normally until my parents got divorced. It was a really messy divorce, they hated each other and it was obvious to me and my younger brother, though he was too young to understand what was going on. I knew all the details, but my parents didn’t think I knew. My mum had the affair that ended the marriage with a colleague who later moved in with us into our family home, and my dad moved out. For a while me and my brother would see him on an informal basis some weekends but when we were there he never took care of us properly. He would let us do whatever we wanted basically, watch violent or scary movies, eat whatever we wanted. He took a special liking to me though and would insist I slept in his bed with him. He would never touch me but he would wait until he thought I was asleep and he would masturbate, and because of the experience with my cousin I knew what he was doing. In the morning I’d wake up and there would be a wet patch on the bed and I remember that so clearly. I hit puberty soon after that and he would watch me in the shower and comment on my changing body. It didn’t really bother me because I was so used to my family looking at me in this way that I knew no better. During this time my dad gambled away all his money and lost his job, and brought a stream of women into the house to stay at weekends and we never saw them again afterwards. There were a few women who we saw continuously for a while, I don’t know how long because it’s so blurry looking back on it, and we even met their own children, became friends with them and spent birthdays, Christmases and holidays away with them. He was a serial internet dater and would always get me involved in his online chats with them, they didn’t know I was there obviously, but he would ask me what to say and show me his conversations with them, show me their pictures and ask me what I thought. They were prostitutes thinking about it now, I’m pretty sure he paid them. One day he met a lady from Liverpool and decided to move there, and we visited a few times at weekends but one weekend he refused to give us back to my mum who was obviously frantic. The police couldn’t do anything because technically we were his children and there was no custody agreement in place at this point, so my mum took him to court. She paid a lot of money to see solicitors and have court hearings to which he never showed up. He owes her/us thousands in child maintenance and court costs. We stopped seeing him after that. I now haven’t seen him for about 8 years. For a few years my brother and I would get birthday cards from him, but often he would get our ages wrong and one day he stopped sending them. We have no way of finding him, the agencies have tried and failed. During my GCSEs we got back into contact with my blood grandad, my mum’s real dad, who we had no relationship with since I was born. My grandma remarried and that man I grew up with as my grandad. I started going to the new grandad’s after school, sometimes with my brother or a friend, sometimes alone. The first time I was there alone he pushed me up against a wall and shoved his tongue down my throat, and put his hands up my school skirt. I felt sick and tried to avoid going after that but I didn’t know what to say to get out of it because when this had happened to me before I felt dirty even thinking about it. He tried to insist on me sleeping over at weekends but obviously I never went. One day I was poorly at school and my mum came to pick me up but she was angry with me because she was busy and didn’t have time to look after me. I felt so ill and I remember seeing her face when she came to pick me up and I instantly regretted calling her. She tried to drop me off at my grandad’s house for him to look after me but I refused and told her everything and she told me he had done the same to her, so god knows why we still had a relationship with him. I finished school and went on to do sixth form. Severe depression developed at this stage, although I didn’t really know what it was. All I knew was that I wanted out, my life was not worth living. I entered a relationship which lasted a few years with a guy I met through a friend. However I struggled with my sexuality and cheated on him with a girl. We stayed together though even though I didn’t think that’s what I wanted. It ended because I cheated on him again when I got to university with my favourite lecturer. I saw him on a night out, he bought me drinks and I went home with him. We had a lot of rough sex and I would go to his house in the night for sex, though I stopped because I met a girl who I quickly fell in love with. At this point I was living in a student house with 3 girls who were my absolute best friends. The girl I met became my world, she made me doubt that I had ever loved anyone before and I wanted to spend my life with her. I still do. She accepted me for all I was and helped me through my struggle with depression and horrible anxiety that developed whilst I was at university. I came out to my grandparents who I was really close with, and they wrote me a letter disowning me, and left a box of things outside my door of all the things I had ever given them – birthday cards, holiday souvenirs, photographs of me. Soon after that my house mates turned on me and bullied me out of the house, I received abuse and threats through texts and social media and I had to block them to get it to stop. We have had no contact since and now I am crashing at various places because I don’t have anywhere to properly live. I’d go home and live with my mum but she is in the process of moving house and the house is packed up, and I still have a few months of uni left. I started out really well, got good grades but over time they have slipped way down, my most recent grade being 45% which is scraping a pass. I used to get 75%. Less than a week ago my girlfriend tried to break up with me by saying me and my mental health were too much to deal with. She felt like she was my carer and that she didn’t like the dynamic of our relationship because I depended on her so much. A few minutes later whilst I was in hysterical tears and panicking she told me she had kissed someone else. I didn’t see it coming. It broke what was left of my damaged heart. I wanted to end my life that night, I ran barefoot in my dressing gown down the street to the water front and wanted to jump but I was too weak to do it. I was scared that it would break my mum. She has suffered with depression all these years too and I couldn’t do it to her. I want nothing more than to never have been born. All I have ever known in my life is pain, until I met my girlfriend and I had hope. Now I have no hope and I don’t know where to turn. I have known for a year or so now that I have more than anxiety and depression – I have borderline personality disorder. I have been struggling to get a diagnosis because the system is so bad and every time I tell my doctor what is going on she brushes me off and gives me more medication. Recently I’ve come to accept that I have borderline and want to get better. It is the scariest thing in the world and no one, not my best friend or girlfriend, if she still is my girlfriend, knows my innermost thoughts. I hate myself and don’t know who I am. I fear abandonment more than I feel anything else at all. I overthink every little thing and have anxiety attacks. I cry all the time and have no control over when it happens, I feel like my life is a dream and sometimes can’t tell what is real and what is not. This drives me to self-harm because I have a need to feel something, anything and the easiest way to do this is to jam a knife into my arm or bite myself. Sometimes I bang my head against something or hit myself, although nobody knows about the latter ones. They know I cut sometimes but it’s too obvious because I can’t hide the signs of that anymore and it upsets people when they find out so I don’t tell them. I am fighting so hard. I have constant fantasies of ways I could end my life, and sometimes I fantasise about hurting others, though I never would. The list goes on and on, but my every second for me is a struggle and this whole damn story has been pent up inside me for 20 years and I finally feel like I should tell the world. I have made it through everything, somehow, miraculously, and I’m still here. I like to say to myself that I’m a soldier, like the Eminem song."



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