Emoblog/2017/12/10/not quite borderline
The subject of borderline personality disorder (BoPD) came up, in relation to some of what I've been discussing here (feelings of emptiness, isolation, and so on).
Objective Analysis
On the one hand, there are some strong resemblances. On the other, there are some sharp contrasts.
BoPD | Me |
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What I'm dealing with seems related to BoPD, then, but clearly isn't the same thing.
It's nonetheless a thing; there's a very clear set of attributes which mark me as different from most people, and even from most people in the various emo-cognitive subclasses I fall into (autistic spectrum, ADD, transgender, CPTSD). Reiterating and expanding the points above:
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Subjective Effects
All of this has basically thrown me completely out of synch with other people – not just in general, but even specifically with the people I felt closest to, identified with the most, and felt were the most like me. It has basically made it impossible for me to have a really fulfilling relationship of any kind, because the best I can do is suppress those insecurities and try to follow the other person's cues as to how they'd like me to be around them.
As an early example, here's what someone with whom I was very close said to me:
Whenever I'm around you, I feel like I've got a neurotic-mother-hen hanging over me, following me around, making sure I don't trip and fall or disappear. [...] Sometimes I want [your company]; but the minute I walk in the door, you're RIGHT THERE staring me in the face, asking how I am and/or another multitude of such questions. And I can't even back away for a minute to think, and I get flustered, and then you're either sure that you did something wrong[2], or you won't believe me when I say I'm fine.
— SWPSNBSI[3], 1981-10-26
I remember more or less how I felt when she said this – a combination of shock, deep shame, and abandonment. In my mind, I was just being the way I'd want someone else to be for me. I wanted someone who was always "right there" as much as possible. My world felt like a very hostile place, where people could turn on me in a second or use subtle head-games in ways that made me feel terrible, and I desperately needed that sense of having an ally who wouldn't leave me alone when they didn't have to (e.g. to go to class and so forth).
I hadn't quite figured out that even people I trusted and who specifically said they were my friends didn't have this same need, this same sense of needing a constant ally.
Here's Jenny, saying much the same:
I think the big difference between me and you is that you live only for the existence of others – namely your friends.
Conclusions
The silver lining is that I can now look at all this while only feeling an echo of that sense of shame and abandonment. If it does send me into a down mood, I can watch it happening without feeling too strongly that I should just fall on my sword by way of atonement. (I still feel it quite strongly, but it's not absolutely overwhelming the way it once was. I have much more of a sense of my own value now, even if it's still extremely underdeveloped.)
I'm still left with questions, though:
- Can I ever feel better?
- Does anyone else feel like this?
- Even if they do, is it possible to gain a sense of wellbeing from a mutual bond?
- ...or will we both/all just end up feeling empty together?
- ...or will we just suck each other dry?
Footnotes
- ↑ ...in order to have some hope of getting back into a situation where I can have the kind of interaction I crave, and maybe be happy. That said, I'm pretty sure I'm doing all this transition and emo analysis stuff (including the writing) for me – because it holds out the hope of possibly feeling content with myself for the first time ever.
- ↑ A nitpick: obviously I was doing something wrong, i.e. everything described here – but that doesn't negate her point. I was implicitly demanding a very intense and immediate style of interaction with which she was not at all comfortable.
- ↑ She Who Probably Should Not Be Specifically Identified