Trigger Warning: Christianity in a favorable light, struggles with belief in God, fitting in at church, splitting, BPD symptoms. Read at your own discretion.
You can’t understand me without understanding borderline personality disorder.
I’m still wrestling with feeling like I don’t fit in and that I’m misunderstood. I don’t know anyone who can relate to me on the level I so deeply desire. I know of one other person with BPD, and they’re not even a Christian. I don’t know a single Christian with BPD. Imagine that for a second—countless individuals struggle with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and so on, but rarely are individuals diagnosed with BPD who still pursue the Lord.
I crave a community that I’ll never have–one that truly understands and can relate to me. I have to mourn that. It’s like I have no one with whom I can process the intense feelings and emotions I experience. Yes, I have a counselor, but her role is to help me process my trauma. Obviously, that will help with these emotions/feelings over time, but my counselor can’t make BPD disappear. She can’t make the symptoms I battle daily disappear. She can’t relate to me and understand how much harder it is for someone with BPD to follow the Lord than for someone who doesn’t. I can’t even believe the nice things people say about me. Can you imagine how much harder it is to believe that a God I can’t see loves me and calls me His? It’s nearly impossible.
Trigger Warning: Purging, food restriction, treatment program, mothers with eating disorders. Read at your own discretion.
My Eating Disorder Recovery Story
I’m Audrey—a 29 year old mum of a primary school aged boy with borderline personality disorder and a long history of mental illness. My eating disorder, in particular, began around the time I was 13 years old. It started as EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified) and later, developed into bulimia. This is my eating disorder recovery story.
The first time I tried to purge, I stopped as soon as I started gagging. I berated myself for days about it. I wasn’t strong enough. I was pathetic. Sometimes I wish I could visit my younger self, alone in my room thinking those distorted thoughts and feeling absolutely hopeless. If only I knew then what I know now.