Remove this label
"Momma, there's absolutely no way you have Borderline Personality Disorder."
While out with her boyfriend several days ago, searching for a book she needs for a project she's doing in school (the topic she chose is in the area of psychology), she came across the book Understanding the Borderline Mother by Christine Ann Lawson and decided to read through it. Once she returned home, the above declaration was the first thing out of her mouth when she walked in the door, before she even had her coat off.
I recognized the title as soon as she said it. I told her that I had read through that same book years ago and had given her the short quiz that was in it, but she didn't remember that (after searching my blog, I found out that it was 5 yrs ago and I posted about it here). I should have asked what possessed her to even open the book, let alone read it. I haven't mentioned my own doubts about the diagnosis in months, never asked her if she believes I have BPD, plus she's a teenager with much better things to do with her time.
It was nice to have someone else finally agree that diagnosis doesn't fit though, and to hear it from the one person that knows me best, the one person that is around me all the time, was very reassuring that I'm not just in denial and trying to delude myself.
I've spent the last 6 years filtering my entire self - my past and present, my thoughts and actions - literally EVERYTHING, through the diagnosis of BPD. Having been so desperate to know what exactly is wrong with me, I twisted and bent my reality in order to fit that square peg into the proverbial round hole. I've questioned normal human behaviours and tried to pigeon-hole them into being "borderline" overreactions, as have many others, because my entire life had come to be defined by the BPD classification, whether there was evidence to substantiate it or not.
Question is, how the hell do I remove this label that's like a scarlet letter upon my chest that everyone now judges me by?
2 Comments:
I wish there was a restart button that you could push to start over in life. That would take care of your scarlet letter, among other things.
Being the arse that I am-very simply-records.
When in my teens and 20's I was unipolar-they were CERTAIN and said so-in writing. (meds followed)
Then in my late 20's and early 30's I was bipolar 1-they were CERTAIN-and said so-in writing.(more meds followed)
Now? I am bper 2 and ADD-they are CERTAIN of it.(No more meds-they can kiss my a**)
So when I stop being sleep deprived I'm going to take one letter of each to my new psych and therapist and drag that piece of crap known as the DSM and ask them what flavor of crazy am I today and why the f*ck should I believe them.
What do YOU think you are? That is what's most important.
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