Facing My Reflection

I’m 36 years old, and something I’ve struggled with for most of my life—especially through my teenage years and into adulthood—is my anger. It’s not just being quick-tempered or easily frustrated; it runs deeper than that.

As a teenager, one of my therapists gave a name to what I was feeling: Borderline Personality Disorder.

What is that, exactly?

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is a mental health condition marked by intense emotional instability, a distorted sense of self, impulsive behaviors, and difficulty maintaining healthy relationships. People with BPD often deal with overwhelming mood swings, a deep fear of abandonment, episodes of anxiety, depression, or anger, and sometimes struggle with self-harm or suicidal thoughts. Emotional regulation—something that seems second nature to many—can feel nearly impossible.

By definition, that sums me up pretty accurately.

It’s hard to admit that out loud, even harder to write it down. But I’ve lived with this diagnosis long enough to know that hiding it only gives it more power. And the truth is, I’m still learning how to live with it in a way that doesn't define me, but helps explain certain patterns I’ve wrestled with for years.

This isn’t something I talk about often. Mental health, especially when it’s messy and complicated, still carries stigma—even though so many of us are walking around quietly dealing with our own inner battles. But I’ve found that the more I understand my diagnosis, the more grace I’m able to give myself—and others. And that grace is something I’ve spent most of my life needing.

I don’t have it all figured out. I still have bad days. I still feel emotions more intensely than most people around me. But I’m learning, step by step, to navigate this journey with more self-awareness and compassion than I ever thought I could. If anything, I hope sharing this reminds someone else out there that they’re not alone.

We’re all a work in progress—and that’s okay.