by UKGeordieLass » Thu Sep 29, 2016 6:31 pm
Thanks guys. I'm glad to have found this forum. I feel lonely and stupid. I won't be telling any future partners about my BPD. Here's an email I sent to my partner today, hope you guys can identify with it:
It has became apparent that I've made a grave mistake.
Over recent years, my self-awareness and conscientiousness compelled me to figure out the cause of my anxieties with a view to eradicating/alleviating them. Many weeks of research revealed BPD as the likely profile out of what labels were available. I pushed hard to see a psychiatrist, to get diagnosed, because firstly I wanted a clear explanation for my anxieties and secondly, to improve my outlook.
Most people who suspect they have BPD don't tell anyone - least not their intimate partners - due to the stigma involved. I thought by telling you I could be transparent, trust you, gain your support, that we could get through this together. I thought I was doing the right thing in telling you. I made a grave mistake.
You're the only partner I've had since I got this diagnosis. You are literally the only person I have told (not even my mother). Being new to the diagnosis, my inexperience resulted in a self-sabotaging naivety. The ramification of my being transparent about my BPD, is that you now look at me with suspicion, with pessimism, with criticism; (Rightly so, if Dr Google is anything to go by - the BPD stigma is real on the internet). I thought I was strengthening our relationship by sharing my personal epiphany. Seems instead, I just hammered a nail into us.
Telling you was a grave mistake, and one I will never repeat in the future. Indeed, the only good to come from this mistake is that I have learnt how detrimental it is to a relationship. This will serve me well in the future, but it's a mistake that has literally crushed our relationship. You'll never trust that I'm capable of love or that I'll be a good wife & mother. This makes our relationship pretty much pointless.
Your reaction is sane. My telling you of my BPD was not. I will never tell another soul outside of medical professionals; It's a shame I cannot un-tell you.
I already feel as though I am under your day-to-day scrutiny, that you're assessing me, critiquing me, appraising me, indeed unsure of me. My negative traits can now be automatically linked by you to BPD and it's now pretty much pointless trying to make you see me as a worthwhile partner with dignity and prospects.
The irony is that (and I mean this with affection) I believe you too have a personality disorder. But that's your profile to claim for yourself in the future if you so wish to explore that avenue. I optimistically assumed my acceptance of you would be mirrored in your acceptance of me.
I still believe I showed immeasurable strength and courage in perusing the BPD diagnosis (no one really wants to believe they have a personality disorder). I still believe it was the right thing to do, and that by doing so I have made a giant leap in my personal development and greatly increased my future prospects (If I indeed have BPT, then DBT therapy could - quite literally - transform me).
What I did wrong however, was tell you and thus cloud your judgement of me. And I can't take that back. I made a stupid mistake, a mistake that even most people with BPD are wise enough to evade!
I crave you, adore you, and would take a bullet for you (If that isn't love, then it must be something even more powerful). You have enriched my life immeasurably. In the relatively short time we have been together, you have made me a better scholar and a better mother.
But, and it is with a heavy heart and crippling regret that I say this, I realise it is unlikely you will ever do two things simultaneously: Accept me as I am (a battle-wounded yet resilient and unfinished artifact) - and Love me. It is clear you want the finished artifact (the person that has overcame all their demons) or even better - the person without character flaws to overcome. And I wish you well with that desire.
I'm tearful, yet accepting; I'm crushed, yet I will move forward.
Of course we'll always be friends in some capacity. I hope our three beauties can continue playing together. I, however, with regret and dignity, bow out of this relationship process (aka your assessment of my 'worthiness' as wife/partner). I'm finding the procedure: indefinite, frustrating and demoralizing. Falling in love with someone shouldn't feel like a battle, like a competition, like an intimate version of a talent show.
I hope you find your princess.