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A look at life through BPD-coloured glasses: Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

Education is one of the most powerful tools we have in the fight against stigma.
To foster understanding and compassion around mental health, CMHA NS has created this platform to amplify the voices of those with lived experience.

Whether living with mental illness, navigating recovery, or supporting a loved one, these voices offer insight, challenge stigma, and remind us that healing is possible.

Beth’s journey with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) began long before she received a formal diagnosis in her late twenties. Now in her mid-forties, she reflects on what it’s like to live with and manage this complex condition—and what recovery can truly look like.

*Beth* is a pseudonym used to protect the individual’s privacy.  

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains brief references to suicide, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm. 

Living with BPD is like walking through the world without emotional skin. Every comment, glance, or silence cuts deeper than it should. Everything feels overwhelming. Everything feels personal. 

I once heard someone describe BPD as “chronic irrationality”—and that clicked with me. Because even when I know a thought does not make sense, my body still reacts as if it’s the absolute truth. 

Here is an example. 

I’m working on a project with someone, and I start to feel like they are not pulling their weight. Rationally, I know that people get busy. But emotionally? I feel dismissed. Devalued. And that their lack of effort reflects how little I matter. 

I talk to them. Calmly. Which takes everything I’ve got, because inside, I am seething with anger and hurt. 

Then the mental spiral starts. I replay their behavior. I replay my behaviour. I think of past moments when people let me down. I start building a case in my head: “Everyone takes advantage of me.” And just like that, my world shrinks down to a loop of frustration and self-blame. 

I feel guilty for being so angry. I start second-guessing myself. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I overreacted. And weirdly, that thought brings relief—because if it’s my fault, maybe I can fix it. That entire cycle can happen in a single day. 

Imagine that thought pattern applied to friendships, romantic relationships, work, even how I talk to myself—and you will begin to understand life through BPD-coloured glasses. 

Dispelling the Myths 

On top of living with all that emotional turmoil, we also live under the weight of stigma. There are so many harmful myths about BPD.  

That we are manipulative, narcissistic, or attention-seeking. That we are liars. That we are too hard to treat and, by extension, not worth the effort. 

Let me ask you something: aren’t a lot of serious health conditions difficult to treat? Does that mean we just give up on people? Of course not. So why is it different with mental illness—especially with BPD? 

I know there is a narrative that people with BPD resist treatment. I cannot and do not speak for every person with BPD, but I can say that I did. But I also know that without the support I eventually received, I would not be living the good life I have today. 

Finding My Diagnosis  

Between the ages of 18 and 27, my life was in constant upheaval. I was angry, confused, and in a lot of pain I didn’t know how to handle. I made choices I regret—saying and doing things that hurt people I cared about. I self-harmed, and I attempted suicide more than once. I was desperate to feel better, to escape the intensity of what I was feeling, even if just for a little while.  

It was not until a visit to the ER at 26 that a psychiatrist suggested I might have BPD. He said I didn’t quite fit the profile for bipolar disorder and referred me for a reassessment. That referral changed everything. 

From Crisis to Clarity  

When I was officially diagnosed with BPD, I didn’t feel anything at first. Now? I feel grateful. 

You cannot treat what you don’t understand. My diagnosis gave me a starting point. And it gave my family, especially my mom, the language to understand what we had all been living through. 

She read every book she could get her hands on. One day I picked one of them up: The Essential Family Guide to Borderline Personality Disorder by Randi Kreger. 

As I read it, I cried. I didn’t see myself—I saw a monster. But then I noticed the dog-eared pages, the notes in the margins. My mom had clearly read it more than once. She saw me in that book. She loved me anyway. 

That realization was a turning point. I began to see myself through her eyes—not as broken, but as someone worth fighting for. 

What Recovery Looks Like 

Fourteen years have passed since then. I’ve had therapy. I completed a Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) Skills program. I’ve learned tools—mindfulness, self-talk, fact-checking my thoughts. I’ve learned to pause before reacting. Training your brain to process emotions differently takes a lot of effort—and honestly, it requires ongoing attention. It’s not something you “graduate” from.  

These tools—like mindfulness, self-talk, and fact-checking my thoughts—are now part of my everyday life. I’ll be using them forever. But the good news is: it does get easier. The more I practice, the more natural it becomes.  

Today, I have a stable job I enjoy. A partner of ten years—none of which seemed possible back when I was barely surviving. 

That is what recovery can look like. Not perfect. Not linear. But real. 

Advice for Loved Ones 

If someone you love has BPD, here’s what I want you to know: 

And know this: you can’t force someone to get help, but you can create a space where they feel safe enough to want it. Speak with love, not judgment. Use calm moments, not crises. There are tools out there to help you both. 

Resources

Books on Borderline Personality Disorder 

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