I absolutely do not know what to do with my borderline personality diagnosis. I had found the local chapter of National Alliance of Mental Illnesses and was going to go to a meeting tonight. But after talking to my therapist today, I’ve had second thoughts. He told me that I shouldn’t Google BPD because so much stuff on the web is the worst case scenario.
I felt dull-witted in therapy today. It’s gray, cold and raining, which really does not help, but I also had a good weekend and it seems I can’t have good days without paying for it with a bad one. I should be happy that I actually had a really great day and a fairly good day back-to-back because usually if I have a great day, the next day will be horrible.I don’t know why that is. Well, that’s not entirely true; it’s quite normal for me to feel guilty about feeling good.
I’m absolutely worn out. In the past eight months, my life has been turned upside down and dumped on its head. My husband was arrested for harassment and the video was shown on all the local stations. He lost his job and hasn’t been able to find another one. (This town in the Bible belt really doesn’t believe in redemption.) I was suddenly the wife of a recovering porn addict. We started therapy, then he went to a therapist that works with sex addicts, among other disorders, then I went to the same therapist for us to do some counseling together to help manage his addiction. Little did I know that the therapist and my husband had figured out that my quirks weren’t quirks; they were characteristics of a borderline personality disorder. So I have been in private therapy sessions for that.
I am a borderline woman who is the wife of a porn addict, and we’re staring down the barrel of financial ruin.
Can you imagine how much praying I have done in the last eight months? More than all the rest of my 56 years put together. My husband is doing so well with his therapy and his 12-step program. He has learned a great deal about how to manage his addiction and the problems in his life that he had used porn to escape from. I feel like he is way down the road from me. He doesn’t wonder if God loves him. Of course he has days when he’s down because he can’t find a job, but he doesn’t doubt God loves him.
And here I am. Still reeling over the trauma of the arrest and loss of job, and now, I have a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder to deal with. It’s a nasty disorder because one of the hallmarks of the condition is that I feel unlovable and unworthy of being loved. I live in basically a black and white world. Someone either likes me or they really don’t like me. This is all a defense mechanism from a time long ago when I continually felt unsafe and unimportant. That’s a nice way of saying I was abused, sexually, physically and emotionally. And, no, it wasn’t my parents.
I got on my knees to pray today, but I don’t know what to pray for anymore. How many times can I ask God to heal me from the worst aspect of this disorder? How many times can I ask Him to provide a job for my husband? How many times can I ask if the promises are true?
I’m tired. I wonder if I will ever have a good week again the rest of my life. I wonder if there will ever be a morning when I don’t dread getting out of bed. I wonder if I am doomed to live in this limbo world of “God might love me if I do things right.” The stupid thing about that is if someone else were to ask me if God loved them and what works they needed to do to earn God’s love, I would tell them, “Of course God loves you. You can do nothing to make Him love you more or less. Christ made the ultimate sacrifice to bring us into a one-on-one relationship with God.”
But I can’t make myself believe that is true for me. Being a borderline is torture.