Well; I got my diagnosis nearly three years ago. But like many others, I refused to believe in it. I was in complete denial until recently. A suicide attempt left me in hospital for 3 days. During this time they did many assessments and monitored me to make sure I was coming back down from my crisis.
It was here that I had the diagnosis officially confirmed and truly explained to me. Finally having had someone go over each symptom and explain how they presented themselves in my life, I began to see it. The pieces all fell together, if you will.
I went to the hospital as a "last hurrah." I wanted help. I needed help. I was so, so, so completely tired of being sad, lonely, angry, dissociated, "psychotic" multiple times a day. Every day. Living was just too painful. All of my interpersonal relationships felt like laying on jagged shards of glass, desperately seeking some kind of comfort.
I knew I wanted to get better. I made the decision. I committed to it. I started reading as much as I could about borderline -- I continued good habits that I'd already developed as self-soothing techniques. Meditation and a deep, genuine interest in Zen Buddhism, taking a hot shower to stop anxiety attacks, challenging negative thoughts, refusing to react impulsively to situations. Etc.
Eventually I entered an individual therapy program. I have been doing STEPPS (I'm Canadian) for three months now. On paper my recovery is glowing and undeniable. It comes in waves and some days are more painful than others. But over the years, certain behaviors that were so obviously caused by BPD (like self-harm) stopped on their own.
I quit drinking. I refused to use drugs of any kind after an OD left me too afraid of accidentally or intentionally consuming excess medications. I started slowly by setting small goals, by visualizing bigger goals and finding ways to work towards them. I outlined daily expectations for myself, to fight my depression. Things I needed to do even if I didn't want to.
I left behind people and places that caused me pain or constantly left me on the verge of breaking down. (Some people are much more insensitive than others, no matter how much you try to warn them or explain your condition to them.) Anyway... Getting to the bottom of the question....
What does recovery look like?
More peaceful days than chaotic ones. Believe it or not... YES... It's totally possible. Calming down in minutes after a painful emotional event rather than hours or days. Not letting anyone or anything get you off the track you've committed to being on. A bad day doesn't seem like the end of the world anymore.
I journal to get out most of my feelings. I do a lot of introspecting. I have a tumblr where I focus on reblogging positive images that leave me with relaxed or confident feelings. I am learning self-love. I no longer tolerate being mistreated like it's something I deserve. I recognize that it is NOT. I recognize that the pain and suffering I endured in my childhood were by no means my own fault or due to some fault within me.
I am not flawed. I am unique. I have strengths and weaknesses and each one of these things is beautiful. They deserve to be celebrated, appreciated, adored. So does my body. Because my body is a tank that has survived war. Both inside and out.
So... That... That's what recovery looks like for me. Accomplishment/success. And peace.
P.S: Recognizing that you have an identity. Not all borderlines are the same, for example. I may not have known what my beliefs were, or who I was. But then I also learned that I did know those things deep down inside. I merely pushed them away in favor of being liked by other people. I learned that it's okay to be ME... Unapologetically me. And I don't need anyone else to love or accept me, to confirm that I have worth, or value. I know I do without someone else telling me. Because I love and accept me. And I know what's important to me, too.
Best of luck in your own recoveries. Joy and authentic self-confidence are right around the corner.
xoxox