I was diagnosed with (quiet) borderline personality disorder (BPD) when I was 27. It’s a mental illness that is often misunderstood, and even more so when it comes to the “quiet” type of BPD. In general, people with BPD are seen as outwardly dramatic, impulsive, and erratic. But that’s not always the case. Some of us are more introverted and tend to internalize our struggles. We may not be as overtly “crazy” as some people assume all people with BPD are, but that doesn’t mean we’re not suffering. Here’s what I wish people knew about quiet BPD.
I’m not just shy, I have quiet borderline personality disorder (BPD).
I’ve been labelled as ‘quiet’ and ‘shy’ my whole life; what I didn’t know is that it was actually a symptom of the BPD I had yet to be diagnosed with. It’s extreme phases where you struggle to cope and express yourself in an “emotionally organized manner”. It’s not easy— dealing with this disorder requires hard work, patience, and self-reflection. Despite how daunting it may seem, speaking out on a highly stigmatized illness is important for me, everyone with BPD, and the general public. Let’s get into it.
People with BPD are often misdiagnosed because we’re good at hiding our symptoms.
People with quiet BPD know all too well how to mask their issues beneath a veneer of stability. We’re masters of camouflage, slipping between the cracks in the healthcare system and avoiding confrontations with our own diagnoses. Unfortunately, it also means that we often don’t get the treatment or help that we need. We become too comfortable in our façade until we begin to spiral out of control and end up needing help beyond what others can offer us. I spent years wondering why my emotions were so intense and assumed I was just worse than everyone else at handling things. Finding out that there was a name for it let me breathe a huge sigh of relief, despite the stigma that accompanies the diagnosis.
Just because I don’t always show the intensity of my emotions doesn’t mean I don’t feel them.
Just because I may not always show it, doesn’t mean that I don’t have extreme emotions stirring beneath the surface. Borderline personality disorder has been named the most painful mental illness in the world; the intensity of emotions is compared to “people with third-degree burns over 90% of their bodies.” Channelling these emotions into productive activities when I can, helps me take control of my life and push myself out of my comfort zone. That’s why I love travelling. Yes, BPD puts me out of commission a lot of the time, but it’s important to me that I see the world and I do my best not to let mental illness or chronic pain stand in the way. I have to admit, if I had to choose between the chronic migraine pain or the pain of BPD, I would choose migraines every time. It’s hard to explain if you haven’t experienced it, but simple things that may seem insignificant to others can put those of us with BPD into a spiralling state of grief or even suicidality.
It’s not always easy for me to open up and trust people, but it’s worth it when I do.
It’s difficult to be trusting–to believe that other people will support and understand you. Over time, I’ve had a difficult time opening up and allowing myself to trust someone with the difficult parts of my life. This can be especially difficult when dealing with those who have borderline personality disorder. I used to be too trusting, which led to getting hurt more times than I can count. But finding a way to trust is worth it if that person makes me feel safe and secure. It’s like I’m saying ‘If I feel safe and secure around you, then I love you.’ That kind of trust might be difficult to build and opening up takes time and effort; but if we both take that step and respect each other, things can get better over time.
I need patience, reassurance, and understanding, but I also have a lot of love to give.
Another reason living with BPD can be difficult is the amount of patience, reassurance, and understanding I need. I also want to make sure I express the fact that I have a lot of love to give too. Having people know that I see their efforts and I’m appreciative of even the smallest gestures is incredibly important to me. Liking an Instagram post to me says, “hey, I see you” while sending a card or simple text says, “I’m thinking about you.” Fear of abandonment is a huge part of the disorder, and I know how much work it might seem for someone else to constantly provide reassurance. I try to really emphasize how much those little things matter. I want others to feel valued when they do them and help make our relationship even stronger.
Calling us dramatic or crazy achieves nothing
Instead of dismissing someone’s feelings as “dramatic” or “crazy”, it is important to listen to them and understand why they feel the way they do. In all honesty, you don’t even have to “understand” it: simply acknowledge it. By validating their experience, we can show compassion and empathy instead of judgment or criticism. This will ultimately help build stronger relationships based on mutual understanding rather than prejudice or stigma. Labelling achieves nothing in the long run, other than reinforcing negative stereotypes about mental health issues. It can also create a sense of shame and guilt for those who may already be struggling with their emotions. Personally, I use humour as a coping mechanism and will call myself “crazy” around people I know, but I also try to make sure I know my audience.