Hi. I am a Borderline who has volunteered to go public with my progress in recovering from Borderline Personality Disorder. I will give some info about me, yet wish to remain anonymous. I hope that is ok with you readers. I am a female. And I have a lot of Experience, Hope and Strength to share about my recovery. I do not consider myself "recover-ED". No way. A majority of my days can still be a struggle, and some not so much. I have lived through a lot of bad times, and some good times too.
I come from a childhood environment of a womanizing, drinking alcoholic father, and a histrionic, Borderline, Drama Queen mother. Both parents were prone to explosive anger, sullen depressions, abusive behavior toward my sibling and I, and each other. I was the firstborn. I was the apple of my father's eye until I reached puberty. I often bore his wrath at upsets in the family unit, and my brother was quiet and withdrawn. He has been known to say that he had no childhood, that all the attention was on myself. This was probably true.I started drinking in my teens, yet indulged in the Greek wines at my maternal grandparents' home. My father taught me that life should be celebrated with booze, and hard times and disappointments could also be softened with an alcoholic drink --- or 3.
My 1st marriage was to get out from under my parents' crazy environment at home. I was 19. I drank, was married, went to college and was a stepmom. I earned a Bachelor's of Science degree. That lasted 3 years. At the age of 23, I married a college professor of mine (widower), with 4 boys from 8 to 13 years younger than I. I went to graduate school, drank, was married, was unfaithful and earned an MBA. That lasted not quite 3 years.
At age 27, I was operating an Italian sports car of mine under the influence of Jack Daniels, and had a terrible accident that should have ended my life, or at least taught me a lesson. I fully recovered, had minor plastic surgery, and continued to drink. I met husband #3 at my workplace, and we moved in together, drank together and built a condo. We married when I was 31, and he went into alcohol treatment 3 weeks after we married. I attended treatment with him, and had to remain sober for 3 months. I was a bitch on wheels for those 3 months, until he was out of treatment.
He continued to stay sober, attended A.A. meetings, and I continued to drink. My career in commercial selling took off, and I was a high-producing sales person (top 20% of the salesforce).When I was 35, I somehow was gently led to A.A., and then into outpatient treatment. At 3 months of sobriety, my then-husband was 4 years sober, had no sponsor and attended few meetings. I divorced him, breaking the rule of not making any life-altering decisions in the 1st year of sobriety.
In Aftercare Treatment, I met another man who got sober 3 months before I did. We broke the rules and started dating. He had an anger problem...and I had a myriad of problems... all of which I ignored. He was also an ex-Meth user, and a brilliant man. We were both salespeople. It was a very chaotic time. He was a physical abuser, but we married when I was 39. Also, at that time, a therapist had diagnosed me with Multiple Personalities Disorder. There were about 7 personalities, and two were quite destructive.
I bought a house. I was either throwing him out of the house, or helping him move back in. Finally, I could not take it any longer. I called his Domestic Violence therapist and told him I was through and I wanted him out.I then hooked up with one of my customers that I sold computer products to and had for 7 years. We dated, moved in together and then married. At that time, things turned really sticky and dark in my life.
I had known a female in AA for about 5 years. I was attracted to her. I left my husband for her, and lived with her and the daughter in their house. I was still in touch with my husband (soon-to-be ex). The chaos mounted as my female partner started taking prescription drugs again, and obtained them illegally. The teenage daughter was a child from Hell, and very wild and uncontrollable.I had a nervous breakdown right after my 46th birthday. I had 5 inpatient psychiatric hospitalizations over the next 20 months. I also was in therapy at the time. My girlfriend and the therapist had an intervention to get me to move out of the house. I willingly went, and moved to my own apartment. The ex-girlfriend ended up in a prison for a year, and I was heart-broken.
I dated a couple of men, one was a recovered alcoholic. At that time, I was already 13 years sober. Then I met my current significant other. It was this man and a psychiatrist who aided in the pinpointing and diagnosing of my Borderline Personality Disorder. He read some books on the disorder, and my behavior and moods were quite erratic and unpredictable. I found a mental health facility about 12 miles from my home that offered Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) Skills training for my Borderline diagnosis. I started attending classes twice weekly. Then, I was moved to a Women's Process Group, and attended for 4 years.
I, however, did try to keep getting employed. I worked as a part-time pet-sitter, a part-time pharmacy technician (this job lasted a year). But difficulty with personalities on the job, caused me to leave the job when I had landed another, working as a minister's administrative assistant. I "did not fit the admin mold" and only lasted 3 months. Human Resources wanted me to work 20 hours per week; the minister needed me for 50 hours. I was in a power tug-of-war. And I was fired, as I did not know where to place my loyalty.
That was a day from Hell. I went ballistic. I thought God had fired me himself. My boyfriend was on the phone to my therapist (DBT specialist) and she couldn't talk me down. The police were called, and 9 of them filed into our apartment. I had been slicing on my left arm, and I would not give up the sharp tool. They took me in handcuffs to the psychiatric ward of a nearby hospital. I was in there for 72 hours, involuntarily. I was released back into the world on hurt, pain, shame and unemployment.
After 10 weeks later, I was hired as a part-time administrative assistant for a staffing company that was losing ground in the industry. The guy who ran the place was an 80+ year old, geeky slime-ball. The young girl I worked with was great. They had pared back the staff. I made it about 8 weeks and was let go. He didn't think I was happy there. I wasn't. I was under-employed and looking for things to stay busy during my hours there. An absolute disappointment.
Then about 5 months later, I was hired as an Administrative Ass't/Customer Service person back in the industry where I sold commerically for about 20 years. I loved the work, the people, the place, the pace. Then, what blew me away was the fact that 16 workdays into the job I was let go. They didn't think I was a good fit. No warning. It was a small, family-owned business for 3 generations, and I just don't think they wanted to pay me the salary I hired in at. It was a bitter disappointment, and I was lost. And depressed. Very depressed.
I self-treated my depression by taking St. John's Wort. Big mistake. It lowered my blood pressure dangerously, and I fell and cracked a rib. Then I strained my back. My doctor put me on Paxil. It turned me into a monster. Taken off hormones for good, a few family skirmishes, losing a friend over an unpleasant and embarrassing situation for HER, unemployed, unhappy, depressed and physcially uncomfortable -- I struggled with suicidal thoughts daily. I was hanging by a thread. I was withdrawing from the world. I did not want to live. The DBT skills were not saving me. My sobriety was not in jeopardy, but why stay sober? I was in perpetual pain. I had no drive, no purpose, no meaning. I was hanging by a tether.
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