Splitting Mind of Borderline Personality Disorder Anger is present.
Check for racing thoughts. Yes, they’re there, and they’re 100% correct!
Check for rapid breathing.
Check! Massive jump to extreme conclusion!
Check for outrage about his mistreatment.
Check for a regrettable deed. He earned it, after all.
He understands who he is and why, so the target is set.
My music is playing, and I’m all set to go.
The malevolence that lurks inside the shadowy recesses of my mind, the demon that destroys all my relationships, has burst through into my consciousness and has physically taken over my mind and body, which I can normally hold at bay.
All of my rages are directed at this individual. My rage at him could shatter glass and set fire to deserts. I’m convinced he’s out to harm, belittle, and exploit me for his gain. He takes all of my affection and laughs it in the face. He’s playing games with me, ignoring me, urging me to chase him down, and punishing me for being away from him. I’m not significant enough.
Surprisingly, I was delighted when this “event” occurred, high on the adrenaline from a good boxing practice. Strong in body and mind and serene in spirit. The sky was brilliant, and the day was pleasant, so I was full of happy ideas. I was smitten with my boyfriend. Why did he feel compelled to wreck everything for me? Why couldn’t he call me at the precise time I requested?
How difficult could that have been? When you love someone, and they are out of the country, as I am, you must make an effort for them. That can’t be too much to expect. I’m in the United Kingdom visiting friends and relatives, and he should be missing me a lot more. I don’t care if he’s sent dozens of texts; none of them matter in the face of this! He said he’d call, but now he’s too busy! Now I know he doesn’t care about me, doesn’t miss me, and doesn’t deserve me. I’ve told him we’re done and have made the decision to cut him out of my life for good.
Splitting Mind
I’m upstairs eating dinner with my parents, rather fine considering, half an hour after Ending It Forever, when The never-ending mental dialogue begins. Why isn’t he calling me? Why isn’t he texting me? Is he truly attempting to harm me? Is he truly so dismissive of me? He should be distraught and on the lookout for me! Is it true that I am so insignificant? That fucking knucklehead! I’m never going to speak to him again.
I had to depart from my parents and proceed downstairs to the small guest room I rented out while visiting them. I can’t put kids through the agony that this horrible man causes me.
My angry self-talk has been on a never-ending merry-go-round all evening, getting quicker and harder to stop. I checked my WhatsApp several times to see if he had messaged me, and when he last connected – he hasn’t bothered to come back online to see if I had!
I send a desperate message to my oldest daughter. Unfortunately, she’s also on vacation (though not with me, much to her relief), and my dreadful boyfriend is looking after our kitties.
Has he sent you a message? Has he brought up the cats? He’s a scumbag. He irritates me to no end. Why hasn’t he texted me? What if he hasn’t bothered to look at the cats? All alone, poor infants. I’m going to ignore him until he messages me completely. I’m going to put a stop to him. Do you believe the cats are in good health? Him? What if something unexpected occurred? What if he truly does not wish to speak with me again? In any case, I’m unconcerned. It’s finished.
My older daughter handles my constant onslaught of messages admirably. She’s 20 years old and is fully aware of how my nefarious borderline personality disorder (BPD) thinking can screw me up. Nevertheless, she maintains composure, assuring me that he will contact me and that the cats will be well. Later, when he goes out of his way to message her and tell her everything about the kitties and give her videos, I’m furious that he didn’t message me. Why isn’t he chasing me down?
I’m so upset with him right now that I honestly believe I’m going to cut him out of my life for good. Every time he has injured me, my imagination replays it. Right now, I could paint a dreadful picture for you. You’d believe he’s a narcissist, a player, a boss, a mindfuck, and an evil, egotistical tiny man with a huge ego.
I turn off my Wi-Fi for the night… That will demonstrate to him.
I have no message the next morning, and I am a disaster! Upon waking, I receive a 30-second reprieve, those few seconds when sleep has softened everything, and you wrongly believe everything is fine. Then you remember… very instantly, I am physically attacked. Palpitations, trembling hands, and a dry mouth that might break sand. My heart races to keep up with my racing thoughts on their runaway train, too far gone for anything to intervene and bring order to the chaos. As the morning progresses, my racing brain becomes even more agitated. Finally, I cave in, email a harshly worded lecture on his behavior, and incessantly wonder why he still doesn’t answer, frantically checking my phone.
Splitting Mind of Borderline Personality Disorder
When I drink too much coffee, my anxiety rises to a peak, causing my eyes to widen and my respiration to become quick. I keep checking my phone and switching my data on and off obsessively in the forlorn hope that three minutes without data will make his message. I should be in the boxing gym by 6 p.m., which would be the best thing for me, but I can’t face anyone while frozen by my “stupid” yet overwhelming worry. I irritate my best friend and my kid to the point where they no longer respond to my messages.
I need to get away, but I don’t take any prescription medications anymore, and the CBD oil I bought in the UK is complete nonsense. So I need to take a deep breath and relax.
Brainwave! Cigarettes! Even though I am not a smoker, I feel compelled to inhale tobacco whenever these instances occur. The decision has been made. I’m drawn to self-destruction. I see myself crash the plane by skipping the gym and wasting 10 pounds I don’t need on cigarettes, making me sick and guilty as hell for destroying my temple body. By 11 p.m., I’m in such a state that I have no option but to tell my parents I’m having a migraine attack and beg them for something to help me sleep, breaking a four-month streak of not taking any prescription drugs, but it’s the only way to get my heart rate down and get me to sleep. I honestly believe I’m going to suffer a heart attack due to my anxiousness. My beating heart runs out of control, Splitting Mind and I have a hot face, sweaty palms, and burning eyes.
I only know now that he has abandoned me. I’m certain I’ll never hear from him again, and my holiday in the United Kingdom, as well as the rest of my life, is now wrecked. I’ve sent approximately eight messages at this point, each one becoming less angry and more desperate as it goes. Nothing has changed! I send one last message, slightly soothed by the sleeping drug, in which I utterly sell myself out and beg him to love me again. I’m having trouble sleeping. I give myself a few more phone checks before… finally! He has sent you a message! It was only a brief one, with only one heart at the end, assuring me,
“it’s OK, sweetheart, we’re OK, and we’ll talk tomorrow,” but the relief was incredible! It’s as though my entire world was spinning off its axis and has now come to a halt. It’s like coming off a roundabout or roller coaster – a wave of euphoria washes over me, and all my anxiety vanishes. All of my rages have vanished. I’m overflowing with affection for my beloved husband. My heart rate recovers to its previous level. There’s no need for cigarettes. I restore my appetite right away and eat despite the tablet’s drowsiness, then I quit smoking and sleep like a baby.
These kinds of things happen to me all the time, especially in my romantic relationships. It’s a combination of deep-seated anxieties of abandonment, insecurity, and a quick mind that goes to the worst possible conclusions. This is known as splitting, and before I understood I had BPD, I had no idea what was going on with me. Because of this, I’ve destroyed a lot of relationships in the past, believing the other person is evil and out to get me, exaggerating every single personality flaw I’ve ever seen in them. Is it an angel or a demon? It’s either black or white. Where is the middle ground?
Most of the time, I adore this person — his grin, gentle demeanor, patience, understanding of me and my problem, kindness, the way he assists me with everything and everything — and no one can say anything negative about him. It’s as though he’s emitting a wonderful glow. But, my friends, my girls, and God only know what I do to him are all confused.
The guy in issue isn’t perfect, even if I imagine he is when I’m ecstatically happy with him. He isn’t bad, nor is he a narcissist. He is not purposefully encouraging my reactions, as I frequently accuse him of doing. He’s just a person, flawed, a little selfish at times, not as deep-thinking as me, incredibly kind and patient, yet perfectly content to sulk after a disagreement. He’s just a regular guy, and when I’m not splitting, I see him as any other rational person would.
It’s not that I lie about him or anyone else, but my perceptions become so dark and twisted when I’m separating. I become perplexed and believe everything I believe to be true, the complete truth, and nothing but the truth. I am not aware of what is occurring to me at the time. So instead of witnessing the movie as I am now, I take on the starring role in my drama and get entirely immersed in it. The only saving grace is that I will eventually see it and will be able to apologize. I’m also fortunate to have a partner in my life who cares enough about me to see past my problem.
We can spit on individuals, opinions, and even ourselves when we have BPD. We can quickly alter our views and viewpoints, and every emotion is exaggerated to the point where we appear to be chaotic and emotionally unstable. This is almost always the outcome of prior experiences combined with the good fortune (or bad luck) of being born as an emotionally sensitive person. We can improve with patience, understanding, and therapy. However, we must also take responsibility for our behaviors as we better understand ourselves.
Dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) operates on the premise that two contradictory opposites can be true simultaneously, and it can truly help us get to a more solid middle ground. We don’t have to be all or nothing; we may learn to be somewhere in the between. I’m still working on myself.
