Borderline Personality Disorder -- Real disease or lazy, catch-all diagnosis?

In My Humble Opinion
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My BPD Mom and Dad have been married for 32 years now. In the early years my Dad was gone a lot, being in the Army he was on TDY or maneuvers often. Later on though, I think my Mom’s guilt trips started sinking in.

People with BPD are masters of the guilt trip. On the BPD boards they’ve even got a name for the trick that seems inherent to those with BPD: it’s called ‘Hoovering’ because they have such a powerful way of sucking you back into their lives and their drama, even when you know with every fiber of your being it’s a bad idea.

It’s hard to describe if you haven’t been through it, but after years of being in their presence you’re pretty well worn down emotionally to begin with. Add some expert guilt tripping on top of that and it’s not hard to keep someone with an aversion to confrontation hanging around.

My Dad does the best he can to try to take care of her, she’s almost like another child he’s had to raise only she’ll never be independent. I don’t know how much he gets out of the relationship but he’s definitely taken a caregiver role for her.

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No offense taken.

One year earlier, I was looking at my 38th birthday, realizing that I was no longer in my mid-30’s, that time was slipping by, and that I was angry, bitter and filled with hatred toward myself, everyone and everything.

About the time of my 39th birthday, I had improved enough to have two women interested in me, the psycho and a more attractive woman with some serious integrity issues. (She’d been with the cousin of my best friend for 15 years, cheating on him with a married man the entire time, just broken up and was interested in me. But she was still seeing the married man.) Then the cheater hurt me and I decided in favor of the other, who seemed more genuine. Boy howdy was I wrong.

It was a powerful combination of being the Knight in Shining Armor for the first woman who ever claimed to love me.

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And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I think that’s one reason why people who have the disorder or are looking for treatment for their relatives have to be selective in where they go, just like therapists have to be selective in what populations fit their interests better.

OK, arguments can polarize people’s positions and I don’t want to see that happen. And I don’t want to minimize your clinical experience. But let me just point out that what you just wrote doesn’t appear to be true in studies. I mean, it depends on what your definition of “tractability” “curability” “treatability” “really really long time” and “rarely” are. But in studies anyway by two years the remission rate (setting aside the improvement rate) - for inpatients (i.e. the very ill) is already like 40%. So some MHPs somewhere are seeing that change take place. And, it’s not improvement, or change, but *relapse *that is really uncommon.

Obviously, “remission” is not necessarily the same as “normalcy” - and some aspects of BPD are undoubtedly more stubborn than others - but then, “normalcy” isn’t usually the standard in the treatment of any psychiatric disorder. Not fulfilling the diagnostic criteria (or in the case of depression, maybe a 50% improvement in symptoms) is what you’re shooting for - for one thing it’s just a hell of a lot easier to measure. And by those standards BPD is a pretty good prognosis diagnosis.

The DSM is not the greatest source for that information IMHO - it’s very brief and vague on the issue, and I can understand your highlighting the word “gradually,” but I would highlight the word “variability.” And anyway that’s a document that’s aging fast - the last major revision was in 1994. And the last minor text revision - going on a decade old - specifically put language in it to point out that the prognosis overall is much better - specifically that people who are treated usually see improvement in the first year. The best studies have been done subsequent to that anyway and show even better improvement, probably because people are getting more appropriate treatments.

I’m not necessarily a DBT advocate - but I think it made major major advances in the treatment of BPD. Probably most importantly in creating specialized group practices where BPD is not the pariah population, but the target population. And by reorganizing practices into teams with self-selected providers deeply experienced in handling the difficult behaviors. It just reorganized the mindset from “do these difficult patients do well with my treatment?” to “does this treatment work well with my difficult patients?” Considering its prevalence, the high suicide and comorbidity rate, and the massive amount of mental health resources the diagnosis sucks up, this had to happen. DBT is also is a good indicator for patients of what facilities are better equipped in treating the disorder - not so much that a DBT program guarantees quality, but its absence would be a bright red flag.

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What can look vivacious and exciting while dating can later be experienced as overwrought and excessively risk-taking.

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I just wanted to say thanks to all of you for this thread. For years now I’ve known something was wrong with my mother mentally, but had no idea what. Here I’ve read some of her behavior almost identically, so although I’ll never know for sure, I’m pretty certain she would be classified as BPD. With that information, I’ll at least have a place to start on one of the many things that I need to heal, since it’s still wrecking my life to some degree.

I only wish I’d have been able to understand some of these things much earlier than 40. I’m so glad for those who’ve been able to overcome their horrifying pasts and my heart goes out to all those who are steal dealing with such terrible difficulties. My prayers to all involved.

Finally, I’d like to ask XJETGIRLX if she has any boards to recommend for this. I saw you mention it and I’ve googled it (like I have a couple of the books suggested that I’d like to buy), but I’m not sure which ones are preferable. I appreciate any help.

And now I go back to just reading. Thank you all again.

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I guess I want to say that as frustrating, angering, frightening, exasperating as people with BPD can be, it’s important to remember that they’re probably like that because of organic causes or early childhood relationship disruptions. It doesn’t serve the general good to treat somebody badly who already had, for example, the experience of being abused a lot as a child. I’m not saying that people with BPD can’t bring up your strong negative emotions, or that they aren’t accountable for their own behavior, but it might be helpful to be angry at people who do harm to children. BPD doesn’t represent a moral failure on the part of those who have it, and they probably can’t stop doing what they do without outside support.

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Wow. Thanks to everyone who has posted in this thread; it’s been very illuminating to my own situation with my Mom, and greatly helpful in understanding that craziness.

Chimera, thanks for the detailed explaination of pain/fear/anger. That makes the reactionary stand of BPD make more sense, and helps with trying to be compassionate.

Olives, you’ve detailed so much of what I’ve been through, too, so much more eloquently. You are really an amazing gal, to take a painful situation in life and learn to cut through the shit and find rationality and sanity, and become a whole, capable person. You are a great strong inspiration.

In my experience of what has made my Mom calm somewhat down in aging (not officially diagnosed, but BPD fits all too well), is the waning of sexual power. I don’t know what the particulars are in that with BPD, but it’s certainly a great avenue towards crazy easy power in youth. And, sadly, especially with past generations of women who were held back by society’s constraints, one of the few powers available. In wondering compassionately about why Mom has this craziness, I feel for women who, really, in the past couple of generations, have had immense frustration with not being able to have much power in the world. I’ve tried to look back and see where Mom may have been damaged by being a smart person who was foiled—can’t see it obviously in my Grandmother; she was sweet, not abusive at all from accounts, but, was put back in her ambitions by raising a family. Perhaps she didn’t give enough attention.

Like Olives, I reached a point where I had to cut off relations with Mom; once upon reaching adulthood, where the craziness escalated, and then again, more constructively, 10 years ago. Setting boundaries made her behave a lot better, at least not to the yelling and slamming doors level. ( I can’t bring myself to give specifics, which is why I really admire Olives for her brave honesty in that) What’s valuable here to people dealing with this type of person, is that, yes, they Can learn. With a therapist, as stated here, yep, all kinds of games and ruses, because the personality is so desperate to maintain that, especially with a professional Judge.

The similarity I see in Olive’s case and mine is that we have been our mother’s witness, through good and bad. I often felt like I was mothering my Mom, trying to comfort her through her divorce(s), and taking care of my siblings when she wasn’t able. I knew what she’d gone through, and was the rock she relied on, albeit stuffing a lot of emotions, as a kid can be allowed. When the damn dam broke, and I’d had enough, I had to cut off contact, and set boundaries. I could not let her drag me down with the craziness and, most of all, negativity.

The useful lesson here is, as with Olive’s story; a BPD mother responds to her daughter, who has acted, I don’t know, at least as a trusted caretaker, and that does make a difference in behaviour. I suppose there is the recognition of someone who deeply knows them, and is bound to service, who sets boundaries, and that’s what it takes to push their envelope of need to decent response. I think it does show the possibility of ego recuperation and development, though.

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There aren’t too many posts here that suggest that one can be completely recovered from BPD, but I know firsthand that it’s possible.

I haven’t posted here in ages because my old posts from 8-9 years ago were just far too embarrassing. Because back then I was batshit insane/nutso/crazy bitch, all those names for undiagnosed BPD. I figured if I ever posted here again everybody would remember me as the crazy chick.

Several posts here mention how it’s been said that BPD can wane and borderlines can mellow out after their twenties and it’s completely true. I used to fit all the criteria in the DSM IV and I used to drive everyone away and scare the crap out of everyone. I was formally diagnosed with BPD and had lots o’ therapy and CBT and DBT. I had to make a concerted effort to change.

I’m 31 now and I haven’t been on meds or have needed any psychiatric treatment in 7 years. Haven’t cut myself in 7 years, either. It never even crosses my mind to do so when things aren’t going well, whereas it used to be the first reaction to any problem. I’m in a stable, calm happy marriage with a sweet, supportive fellow with no history of any mental problems himself. I don’t have angsty freak-out fits anymore and I went back to school and have held a steady job for years.

I dunno. Maybe my case wasn’t so severe to begin with, but maybe not- maybe I’m proof that it’s possible to recover completely.

And we don’t need to be shunned and shamed and ostracized. It doesn’t help to have people give up on us or think we deserve to be imprisoned or otherwise treated badly. I think some of us just needed a little help- though ultimately the BPD has to decide for herself that she’s going to change.

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As the mom of a probable-BPD daughter, I do have to say that while it’s true it can be brought on by abuse of a child, most of the moms on my email list (as well as myself) have been blindsided by this illness and have found part of the difficulty in dealing with it is that we have been blamed for the illness. I haven’t dealt with police and medical professionals like a lot of the moms have, but I have been accused by my own family as not loving my daughter enough, loving her too much, not being affectionate enough, not strict enough, too strict; the list goes on. My daughter was not brought up any different than my other daughters; the only difference is that she has a different father, who shows a lot of the traits she does.

I have tried to to support and help my daughter so many times, only to get virtually kicked in the teeth over and over. I am tapped out, exhausted and just want some peace. I finally decided I needed to let go and let her do what she’s going to do, for the sake of my kids and my own health. I hope she ends up like Turpentine, but only time will tell.

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Yes–When you say “the only difference is that she has a different father, who shows a lot of the traits she does.” that gets at the issue of potential organic cause. Please don’t think I’m blaming moms–I know how that goes.

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Turpentine, no way could I let a post like that pass without recognition. You are not only incredibly brave to come forward in a thread that is less-than-sympathetic toward BPDs, you also deserve a huge, huge pat on the back for all the work you have done in the interest of your mental health. If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t even here 8 years ago–but I sure could show you some posts I’m embarrassed about to this day. I was just beginning to regain some stability when I started posting here. Hell I’ve probably made posts I regret within the last week. It’s never too late to start over.

elelle I appreciate the acknowledgment and I am so grateful that this thread enabled you to think of your mother in a more compassionate way. I think ultimately compassion is what we all need to find healing in our lives.

I was so moved by your description of feeling responsible for your mother. Many people in my circle of friends and family could not understand my endless willingness to forgive my mother, my overall lack of bitterness. It is because while our relationship was troubled, we were extremely close. When I was 4 or 5 she used to have these fainting spells, during which I would basically sit and watch over her until she woke up. From the very beginning I sensed that she was vulnerable. And as I grew older she told me the story of her life, painful secrets she kept, things that break my heart. Not only did I take care of her but she told me things she would tell no one else. My family, and I mean not just my Mom, is incredibly screwed up. I know the ‘‘every family is dysfunctional’’ adage but no shit, I really need to write a book some day. It’s almost like a statistical anomaly how many abusers and mentally ill people we have. And she, like me, is a product of that family.

It never occurred to me there was any other way a mother-daughter relationship should be. If I felt shame it wasn’t shame for her, but shame for feeling frustrated and angry, or shame for being unable to fit the role of a perfect daughter. I felt for a long time I had to carry that burden by myself but I’ve learned there are places I can lay it down. One of those places is here. It is an incredibly normalizing experience to interact with others who have gone through this. Sometimes I convince myself that I am the only one and I am some kind of freak of nature.

Letting go of that responsibility was the best thing I ever did for myself. When I talk about feeling responsible now I am looking back on what it was like, honoring that experience but not making it a part of today’s experience.

I don’t know if you’ll find this helpful or not, but one work of fiction that really blindsided me in this regard was Amy Tan’s The Bonesetter’s Daughter. The mother in the story is not exactly borderline, but it deals with this kind of conflicted, unequal mother-daughter relationship in such a compassionate and moving way. I didn’t even realize how spot-on it was until one day, halfway through, I just dropped the book and started sobbing. It allowed me to see my mother in a different light while still honoring my own pain. I wanted to distribute a copy to every woman in my family, including Mom.

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I didn’t think you were blaming moms - I just wanted to put out there what it’s like for some parents in this situation.

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From a parent’s perspective, the non-fiction book And I Don’t Want to Live This Life, written by the mom of Nancy Spungeon (who was murdered by her boyfriend, Sid Vicious of The Sex Pistols), gives some insight into having a child with mental health issues. Nancy wasn’t diagnosed as BPD, but some of the moms on my list have daughters who are a lot like Nancy was. Thankfully, it hasn’t gotten as horrific as that for us, so I am grateful for that.

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Warning: This will be long.

After reading through the last few pages of this thread and half the book Borderline Personality Disorder Survival Guide, I really wanted to share my own experience here. Thank you, Turpentine and others who did so before me, for having the courage to speak out. It’s good to know there are others out there – especially if there’s hope for recovery someday.

I guess a part of me just desperately wants to feel… well, if not quite validated, at least understood. It’s important to note that I do NOT disagree with anything said so far, including the negative symptoms and behaviors; I think these are accurate descriptions and I can definitely understand why some of you dislike BPDs, but I wanted to share what it’s like from the other side of the fence. I’m not here to garner sympathy; I just hope this’ll make BPD somewhat more understandable from another perspective. We don’t act like assholes just for fun; sometimes, we really can’t help it. Besides, as a young adult male (24), my experience has been somewhat different than the women and parents who posted before, so maybe some of it will be interesting to you all.

I apologize in advance for how long-winded this is.

Anyway.

I was first diagnosed with BPD and Major Depression at the age of 15 following a suicide attempt.

I was in an online “relationship” with a girl for a few months; we started out as gaming buddies, then became friends, then became really good friends, and eventually I fell for her. I never actually met her, but strangely, the facelessness of the Internet made it easier to become close; absent body language, physical nervousness, facial responses, etc., all the normal cues of real-world relationships were missing and it was easy to let vaguely positive emoticons and my own loneliness misinterpret our friendship as romantic intimacy. Eventually she told me she liked me too (to this day, I’m still not sure if that was true)… and things were going SO well (or so I thought) for a few months until one day she just blurted out “I can’t do this anymore! If you really hate yourself that much, just go ahead and kill yourself! It’s not my problem anymore.”

Nothing in my life ever hurt so much.

It totally caught me off-guard. In the span of five seconds, I went from the happiest I’ve ever been to completely and utterly devastated – I lost my (imaginary) girlfriend, my best friend, and my one and only good friend. There was no one else close to me at that point in my life and since she was my “first love”, so to speak, I had absolutely no emotional defenses.

I completely broke down. I wanted to scream but couldn’t; tears just kept pouring down my face against my will so fast I had trouble breathing. It was 3am and I couldn’t even think anymore; the entirety of my existence was replaced by a feeling of overwhelming, all-encompassing pain. Long story short, I cried the rest of that day until I just couldn’t take it anymore, then took a box of sleeping pills and went to bed. I don’t think I even bothered to write a note.

I was institutionalized for a few months following that and it gave me a lot of time to think and reflect. There was some amount of growth and maturation in there, though not nearly enough.

It was during this time that I realized I had been holding her hostage emotionally – hence the “manipulativeness” of BPD. The thing is, NEVER did I think “If I threaten to kill myself, she’ll stay with me”; rather, it was always “God, please don’t leave. I love you. I need you. I can’t live without you.” Had I been able to think one step further, I would’ve realized that making her constantly worry for my life would be the same as making her feel too guilty to leave, but my mind just never made that connection – any time I thought about a potential breakup, I would just panic inside and not be able to think further. It was an act of manipulation, to be sure, but not a conscious one; rather, it was an unthinking emotional response to a very childish (but very real and very intense) fear of abandonment. I was the scared kid begging for Mommy to stay, not the cunning Machiavellian villain with a detailed plot to keep people under my power.

Also, unlike some of the other posts in this thread, I nearly never externalized my problems and almost exclusively blamed myself. I can still remember some of the thoughts that would go through my head: “She hates you. You suck. You’re worthless. You’re not good enough for her. She’s happier without you. You only serve to bring her down. You’re a leech. You’re just using her to feel good about yourself. You’re in love with the idea of being in love. You don’t know how to love. You’re disgusting. You don’t deserve your parents. They’re too good for you. You’re weak. You’re a bitch. You’re a coward. You’re only sad because you’re a pathetic cock-loving faggot that deserves to die. The world would be better off without you. You’re wasting your shrinks’ time. They should be with patients that can actually contribute something to the world. Your friends are too good for you. You suck. Fuck you. Go die. You’re a worthless sack of shit and a complete waste of oxygen. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh God I’m sorry (her name)… none of this is your fault… I’m sorry… god… I love you. Goodbye.”

That mentality, I think, came from a combination of gender stereotypes and cultural expectations. As a guy, I was supposed to be strong, independent, and unemotional, and even more so in the conservative Asian culture that I grew up in, and even more so since my parents were both incredibly strong, self-made people with little tolerance for self-pitying bullshit. I, however, was the most sensitive, empathetic and emotional person I knew – this intensity, I would later learn, is another indicator often present in BPD sufferers – and I hated myself for it for a very long time, thinking that I was gay or that my masculinity had somehow failed to develop as nature intended. My self truth conflicted with everything my environment wanted me to be, and that only made me more miserable.

That fear kept me from being honest with those around me and I would act vicious and cruel to all the males around me, just to hide my vulnerability and to show them that I could just be as strong, angry, and aggressive as any of 'em. Secretly, to a few select females whom I did not feel competitive with (my counselors and shrinks, for instance), I would let my true feelings out: And I can say as truly now as I could back then that there was no malicious <i>intent</i>, ever. This is important: I never wanted to hurt, abuse, or use other people; there was just SO much pain and the only way to lessen it was to constantly be with somebody that cared about me – I needed people and was desperately afraid of loneliness, going so far as to attempt several suicidal gestures with makeshift weapons (shoelaces, broken lightbulb shards, etc.) inside. All of this, coupled with the fact that I was raised as a self-indulgent, spoiled brat of an only child meant that I was so preoccupied with my own problems I never bothered to consider how my actions were hurting other people. I guess what I’m trying to say is that my behavior was the result of childish self-centeredness, not ill intent or calculated manipulation. In a lot of ways, BPD feels to me like stunted development; emotionally, even now, sometimes I like a 14-year-old trapped in a 24-year-old’s body.

Fast forward a few years. I was attending college in America by this point, and I had long since moved past my BPD phase (or so I thought). Ironically, just a few weeks before my suicide attempt, I had coincidentally rented and watched Girl, Interrupted. My own experience in the institution was very similar to the movie in a lot of ways (with some self-fulfilling prophecies thrown in, perhaps). Naturally, when I got out, I watched it again and came to the same conclusion as I did in the OP: “It was merely adolescence,” I told myself. I moved on.

Only I didn’t.

A few weeks later, my mom and I got in a huge argument over grades and school and she went off about how pathetic I was compared to everyone else in the family (my relatives were mostly high achievers who went on to Berkeley, Yale, etc.) Fuming, I felt my blood begin to boil. I looked at her, waiting for her to finish, but she never did… and then suddenly, every negative emotion I’ve ever felt merged into one explosive singularity and I was consumed by raw, unadulterated hatred – THIS, I told myself, IS THE REASON I’M SO MISERABLE – and I stood up, threw her against the wall, and threw a hand around her neck. “AGH! YOU FUCKING BITCH! DON’T YOU GET IT?! ALL MY LIFE I’VE BEEN TRYING TO LIVE UP TO YOUR IMPOSSIBLE EXPECTATIONS. IT’S NOT WORKING, OK? I’M NOT THE OTHER KIDS AND IF YOU CAN’T DEAL WITH THAT, DISOWN ME AND ADOPT ONE OF THEM. FUCK YOU, YOU CUNT! I’M SICK OF YOU AND YOUR BULLSHIT. DIE!” With both arms, I lifted her up by the neck and strangled her even harder. I remember focusing my two thumbs on where her Adam’s apple would be just to cut off her air supply and ensure death. She was choking and crying by this point, but she didn’t even try to resist. She just hung from my arms, limp, and the shocked but empty look on her face finally made me pause. I let go and we were both speechless. My cousin, who was sitting next to us the whole time, also stared in wide-eyed horror. Nobody knew what to say.

I had become a monster.

Ack. This has become much longer than I thought it’d be. I’ll finish later…

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I know you’re still in the process of sharing your story, but I just wanted to thank you for doing so. That is an incredibly courageous action on your part. So many people just don’t understand, and by speaking out you are fighting that ignorance. I know what you’re describing is horrible, but I personally believe that no person is beyond redemption. Just by acknowledging the wrongs you committed you are taking a step forward, and I honor that.

That is exactly what I was trying to explain, though probably I wasn’t too clear. It’s fear more than malice.

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I guess I’m still not clear on the root of the problem. Is it a mental defect that a person is born with, that pushes their emotions into high gear? Or is this a matter of “learning” how to function appropriately? Or both?

This kind of reminds me of alcoholism.

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It’s incredibly difficult to understand or even accept this point of view when you are the child of a BPD parent (and thus, suffering yourself). I’m not saying that you aren’t right, just that it’s incredibly difficult to get over the damage caused by the BPD parent and see that they have needs, too. As a child, I shouldn’t have to be the one to help my mother understand why she is in pain, it should be the other way around.

Faithfool, I’ve participated in several boards related to BPD but by and large the best one I have found is The Nook. It began as a spinoff from the Walking on Eggshells book, and was started by its author. Several years ago there was a schism and it became an independent board, though. The thing I like most about The Nook is that it provides a great resource for ‘unchosen’ or ‘nons,’ those of us who had no choice about being in a relationship with someone with BPD. It’s a very, very different experience for a child of a BPD parent than for someone who is in a romantic relationship, or even just for other family members.

The majority of literature and psychological information available deals with chosen relationships and gives the BPD a lot more leeway than most children of BPD parents feel comfortable with. It’s nice to find somewhere that people understand your perspective, anger and all. Once you start reading the stories on there you’ll start wondering if these other people grew up in the same house, it’s scary how similar the experiences are.

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Olives, it’s been about five years, and I think I’m beginning to get some, with the support of my husband and his family. My mother-in-law, about whom I complain too much, is really a wonderful woman, and she (a clinical social worker) told me I had all the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder at the time I was getting threatening and accusatory letters from my sister. I was starting to “see” her places she couldn’t be (she lived in another state, far away) and get afraid to go out. My husband and I went to our lawyer and drafted a cease-and-desist letter to send her, but fortunately she stopped contacting us.

I am not cold enough to say I’m glad she’s dead, but I do feel that when I have to tell people that she is and they say, “That’s terrible!” I can honestly say, “No, it isn’t.” I was unable to help her and she was unwilling to be helped.

Reading this thread has in itself helped, and I am thinking about reading some of the books mentioned. She also had bipolar disorder, which in combination with borderline personality is an almost insurmountable diagnosis. (I’ve read and recommend *An Unquiet Mind *by Kay Redfield Jamison for a first-hand account of bipolar disorder.)

So I’d say, yes, I am more at peace. My sister was an intelligent, talented woman. She was also a vicious, malicious bitch even not counting her mental problems, and I did the right thing disassociating myself from her. I owe no one an apology for that, and anyone here who makes that choice will hear no criticism from me. I’ve been there.

Turpentine, stay with us.

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I read the clinical description of BPD from The Nook link. Are there degrees of this disorder? I know lots of people who display three or more of those behaviors, but not all the time. Periodically throughout the years, but incidental in frequency, over long periods of time. Is it possible to be “mildly” BPD?

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And yet a few posts later you admit to choking your mother up against the wall. I’d say that’s pretty abusive.

I’m not trying to be cruel, just pointing out an immediate example of how different perspective can be and why it can be difficult to ‘reason’ with someone with BPD. Very often, those with BPD cannot even see their own actions in the same light that the rest of us do.

I wish you the best of luck in your efforts to cope with this.