I Accepted my BPD with a Tattoo.

I’m doomed. I should leave. How far can one go with £34 in the bank? These were my diary entries on the night I googled Borderline personality disorder. It had been a difficult year. I was 24, living in London and heartbroken. I had this gorgeous creature, who said he loved me and wanted to build a future with me at his side. Something, inside me, convinced me he was lying. An intense fear that he would abandon me engulfed me & I broke his heart by constantly pushing him away. Until that evening, sat down in front of my laptop, typing my fears into Google I’d never had any explanation as to why I was wired to fear a connection.

Before that evening I’d be labelled with ADHD. I was 12 years old when I was diagnosed and hadn’t bothered to research the disorder. I just accepted it. I was too engrossed my anxiety, getting through school & Harry Potter. I struggled every day. Will this friend leave me? Am I going to be left out? People terrified me. I wanted to go home, I wanted to be left alone. I’d sit, staring out of the window paralysed with unease at being around people yet so desperate to fit in. As you can imagine my concentration wasn’t great for keeping up with subjects like photosynthesis and Algebra. So AHDH stuck.

It took witnessing the pain I had caused my third, longterm boyfriend before I questioned that label. I couldn't deny the fact that there was something in me that was hurting and therefore I was hurting him. So, I read books, articles regarding ADHD, hoping to find some answers. All I found where gaps. No clue as to why I was obsessed with being Validated. Why I couldn’t handle being in relationships. Why I sabotaged to such extremity my health and sometimes my life was at risk. No explanation for my anxiety or an intense feeling of being hollow which could be triggered just by someone leaving my flat. I typed the above into Google & Borderline Personality popped up. For those who don’t know understand what BPD is let me bring you up to speed. BPD has 9 symptoms. You need 5 to be diagnosed.

Fear of abandonment.

Unstable relationships.

Unclear or shifting self-image.

Impulsive, self-destructive behaviours.

Self-harm.

Extreme emotional swings.

Chronic feelings of emptiness.

Explosive anger.

Feeling suspicious or out of touch with reality.

Aside from some pretty uncomfortable symptoms, there were and still are some horrific social perceptions of this condition. Even Hollywood's depeiction of BPD characters ranges from Murderous Aileen Wournos from ‘Monster’ to psycho Alex Forrest from 'Fatal Attraction'. The condition is considered too difficult to treat by therapist. We are condemned even by Psychiatrists. BPD remains one of the field’s most misunderstood, misdiagnosed and stigmatized conditions. As I said, I was doomed.

Shame. Lots & lots of Shame. Seeing as I couldn’t afford to change my name and go live on an unoccupied island - I spent the next year drunk. Drowning in self-hatred. I sabotaged my relationships, my health, my future more that year then I did any other year before. I started taking drugs. Was promiscuous. Pushing away my Family & friends and took my boyfriend down with me. I changed countries, believing, like so many that if I changed my environment, I would change myself.

I became obsessed with change. Thinking everytime I would be different. ‘Starting again’ made me feel safe. Hopeful. I could wash away the mistakes with new hobbies, new friends, new city, hell even a new haircut would be the start of a new chapter for me. I was running away constantly. Then I read Brene Brown. “Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change”. My diagnosis was a secret that I did not feel like sharing. But rock bottom can be a sold ground to re-boot your life. In the end, I realised I was never going to be the person I wanted to be if I kept running away from the person I was. I wanted to succeed and elevate to become more than my diagnosis.

I started reading self-help books. I started exercising, learning how to cook and practised Yoga. I devoured biographies written by people who were open about their Anxiety & Depression. Books by Ruby Wax & Jenny Lawson who were transparent about their mental health issues. I read about Alcoholics and OCD patients. Anything, anyone who was vocal about their pain, and who had turned their own experiences into a platform for others to listen, laugh and connect with. Then I started writing. Slowly but surely my Shame started ebbing away.

A year later, I booked a therapy session with a BPD specialist, worked out a plan for my treatment and signed the promise of self-love with a Tattoo. Like finishing a contract with a signature. My Tattoo is a constant reminder of the promise I made to myself. My Mental health, is my responsibilty. Running away from my obligation to protect it, is the surest way to fail. Nothing symbolises this more for me then a Cat. As an Art Dealer I am obsessed with symbolism. Since Ancient Egypt cats signify rebirth and resurrection, per their nine lives. Corny, I know. But I love it.

I am still getting used to telling people. A lot my friends do not know, however, this article alike other things in my life are part of my ‘coming out the BPD closet’. Regardless of many mistakes I still make I’m proud that I took responsibility for my actions and decided to heal. My Tattoo isn’t just a symbol on my skin. It’s a symbol of my pride.