Inside - the thoughts of a recovering BPD

Predictability, stability, boundaries - not words you'd really think of when you've been exposed to a person who has Borderline Personality Disorder. We're not predictable people - our moods can jump from one extreme to the other within seconds. That in itself doesn't make our relationships very stable. And when they are stable, we sure don't keep it that way for a long period of time. I think the best I've done is one week without any shows of anger or extreme mood changes. And as for boundaries - well, let's just say that if I've ever seen something in my way before, I'll run headlong for it at the speed of light. Sometimes just to see what happens when I cross the line - and sometimes when I want the predictable chaos to ensue.

I want predictability. I want stability. And shock of shocks - I want boundaries.

Predictability is great because I never had it. I love it.

The only predictable thing in my childhood was that anything could happen in my family. I love having a schedule. I write lists. Long lists. Shopping lists. To Do lists. I spend more time writing lists than I do actually doing the things that I write on my lists. I spend more time planning predictability than I do having it. But that's okay, because it's not the actual event that I like so much as it happens. I just love knowing what's going to happen, when and where. I like this because it gives me a sense of the future. I don't have much of that. And even if I get through one day just because I know there's something at the end of it - e.g. Dinner right at 6pm - then that's better than killing myself because I feel like there is nothing to live for.

Stability is good, simply because it feels nice. It feels nice to have something good - e.g. a nice husband - and have that stay stable. My home life as a child was not stable. But, my husband's personality doesn't change from 'nice'. He's never purposefully mean to me, he doesn't pick on me, and he's just generally a nice person. And it's good to know that he's not going to slap me for no reason or start screaming at me. That's a good feeling. Again though, it's not the actual stability that I like, it's the thing that is staying stable that I like. Being in an established abusive home was not fun. I didn't like the stability of that. I like the stability of something good in my life. And that in itself is hard to come by when you're a BP.

I also have a preference towards living with boundaries rather than without them. Boundaries are great. They give me both a sense of predictability and stability. When I was growing up there weren't many boundaries. And when there were, they were usually moved or removed completely after a short period of time. I got in trouble with my mom for drinking once when I was younger, and the next week she was buying it for me.

Now, if my husband sticks to calling 911 every time I self-mutilate, then that situation has become predictable. And I like that. Because then when I start to feel like I want to self-mutilate, I have come to understand the consequences of that action because of the boundaries and predictability in that situation. Yes, I ran headlong through this boundary more than once, but it only took me two times to understand that if I self-mutilate I will be taken by the police and medics to the hospital. Knowing the exact consequences of an action is in itself a sort of stability. If my husband can stick with the boundaries he sets, then nothing unexpected happens. This helps keep the relationship stable, because 'unexpected' is a sort of trigger that can cause me to dissociate and have my mood shift suddenly.

But then, there's only so much of all that stability and predictability that I can handle. If I start to feel too good or for too long - which happens after a period of stability, predictability and boundaries - it's like this switch says "No, you must stop feeling good, because when you feel good, you become vulnerable. You open yourself up to the possibility of hurt." So, I stop liking the stability and predictability because I feel good about them. I start dreading the stability. I start dreading the predictability of the boundaries and of my life. I start questioning them because they feel good. So, I dread even the thought of having them in my life.

This is a quote from my journal :

"Can't stay in something stable because it doesn't hurt enough. I can't feel it enough to stop me from rocking the boat and making it real again by making it hurt. Pain is all that is real."

...which is weird, because you'd think that if I purposefully stopped feeling good from the fear that it would turn into hurt, I wouldn't *want* to hurt. Something strange happens there. I start thinking that the stability and predictability and the good feelings that come from those are not real. How can they be real when all I've felt was pain? Those good feelings start drifting away until I can't feel them anymore, and when that happens, I start doubting they were real because of the fact that they disappeared. And then I start doubting anything about me is real. So, I try finding stability by going back to something which is very much a part of what I know. Disruption. Arguments. Bad feelings. Chaos. I start feeling like those things are all that's real, so I must recreate them to feel real again.

And that's when I start 'painting outside the lines'. I'll not only cross boundaries, but run through them laughing and smiling. I'll rock the boat and tear down all the stability I had. I'll make everything unpredictable again - including myself. Not because I'm happy at the time - or even aware - of the fact that by crossing the boundaries and making things unstable and unpredictable I'm hurting someone who I probably care about a lot. But I'm happy because I'm going back to something that I know, something that defines me. And to myself, my abusive childhood defines who I am. After all, it did make me the person I am today.

I'm so happy at the time I'm boundary-crossing because I feel like I'm going 'home'. You know that feeling you get when you've been away on holiday or away from your home for a while and you walk up to your front door to go inside for the first time - that feeling of relief and comfort? That's how I feel when I cross boundaries and chop down the stability I had. Things feel comfortable ... but not generally happy.

I guess for myself, the need and desire for stability, predictability, and boundaries, and also the need for chaos, are both present. I love having the stability, but if things start getting too stable and predictable I start doubting my own reality because I've never had these things before. I feel the need to go back to what I know. And that's chaos.

In retrospect, I always carry the burden of shame and guilt over the things I've done to regain that instability and unpredictability in my life. I always feel terrible for the things I say and do to invoke that sense of self that I so desperately crave. I know there are better ways of doing things, and I'm finding them.

The therapy I'm in is helping me to learn that not only does my childhood define me, but also that I don't need to recreate traumatic times to feel like I'm whole. I always thought that my 'home' was inside me - that it will always be there, and that to feel comfortable and whole, I should find my way back there by recreating the feelings that lead to it being put there. What I'm learning is that it doesn't have to be my home. That home inside me that provides comfort and a sense of self through instability and unpredictability, doesn't even have to be there. Like in real life, if you don't like where you live, move. I'm learning to make myself a new home inside, full of stability and predictability and boundaries. A new place that provides comfort and a feeling of being whole and real. And the sign on the door says, "Welcome."

- BPD`Star June 2000

Imbroglio.org

Giving up
is not an option
I’m willing to explore

-thanks to "BPD`Star" for sharing these very personal insights with us. It helps us "nons" better understand "inside" BPD. -ed