“BPD was like a swear word in my appointments” – Mariss’ story

Mariss explores her journey with BPD (borderline personality disorder), touching on symptoms like impulsivity and mood swings. She shares her experience of ongoing stigma from mental health professionals.

I’ve felt things deeply for as long as I can remember. When I was around 15, I noticed my mood swings becoming increasingly erratic. I’d have unbearable lows and depressive episodes that left me so defeated. There were times I couldn’t brush my hair or bathe. On the flip side, I’d have uncontrollable surges of energy and hyperactivity. It felt like I was going to explode because I couldn’t bear the euphoria. I felt so happy it almost pained me. 

The ignorance from doctors and psychiatrists led me to believe this was perfectly normal, that everyone experienced life this way and they were just better at managing it. I remember being told that I don’t appear to be ‘violent enough to have a personality disorder’. Had I been older, I’d have known how misleading that statement was.

Things only got more chaotic after leaving school. It’s a petrifying thing; leaving school and facing the real world. The stability of being in full-time education and being told what to do instead of being left to my own devices, was much more crucial to my wellbeing than I thought. 

I noticed my thoughts and emotions spiralling out of control more than they ever had during college. In hindsight, the pressure of starting over in a new environment clearly acted as a fuel for my existing mental health difficulties. 

I had really poor impulse control, particularly when I was feeling low or in distress. I used to walk into traffic frequently, almost hoping I’d get hit, not hard enough to kill me but hard enough to put me in hospital for a few weeks, so I’d get attention and a break from responsibilities.  

I found myself behaving recklessly with money, purchasing things I didn’t need with money I didn’t have. It made me feel alive, only for a few moments before the novelty wore off, but it was better than the feeling of chronic boredom I seemed to have and just couldn’t shake.  

From my late teens to early twenties, my symptoms were becoming so apparent and disruptive to my daily life that I couldn’t go unheard anymore. BPD (borderline personality disorder) was like a swear word in my appointments. Psychiatrists and therapists looked so horrified when I’d bring it up, reluctant to take me seriously for over a year. 

The tricky thing about catching the monster called BPD is that it mirrors neurodivergence and other mental health conditions, a few of which I was already diagnosed with. Psychiatrists were often sceptical about looking into a BPD diagnosis, convinced that what I was experiencing was a result of existing conditions.  

I struggled massively with self-identity. I went through different hair colours, clothing styles, mindsets, social interactions and periods of isolation frequently, in desperation to find the real me somewhere in all of the chaos. 

For years, I had this indescribable unsettling feeling like my mind wasn’t mine; that I was sharing it with a group of strangers. My moods were so strong, they felt more like whole personalities. I never knew which personality would front and when, and I almost felt afraid of myself. 

I’ve always had love to give to those I care about, so much so that I felt like I didn’t have enough space to store it. It was fickle, though - the moment I felt hurt or disrespected by them, whether it was intentional or not, my affection morphed into unbearable rage. I’ve broken a lot of my favourite things during episodes, but the guilt, shame and embarrassment you feel after you’ve calmed down is the worst thing. I wouldn’t wish it on my enemy. 

The better I got to know my mind, I realised that feelings of guilt and regret were positive signs that I was learning how to differentiate between my own nature and my symptoms. If I felt upset or ashamed about something I said, I knew it wasn’t a reflection of my values and thoughts. It was simply something I said at a time when I was feeling very unwell, without the help and support I needed.  

To this day, I still mirror others and their feelings because I’m so unsure of my own. Somebody could ask me ‘how are you?’ and I genuinely wouldn’t have a clue how to respond. I needed to know how they were first. If they were feeling well, I would be too. If they were feeling down, I would be too. The human brain is a powerful thing - our biggest blessing and curse. 

There is so much stigma. I want you to know that you are so much more than the things you battle. You’re not a lost cause, or too difficult to deserve help, or anything less than good enough. There is therapy out there, nature, people who understand you and are interested in your story.