BPD & Me: Lasting Lessons From My Therapist
Let’s get one thing out of the way early on. Therapy is EXHAUSTING. So is waiting for your name to finally make the top of the NHS waiting list. I’ve had different forms of therapy since I was 16 (a disgustingly long time ago) and recently, I found a therapist who is basically my hero. Here’s why.
She showed me I’m not a problem
I feel like that’s probably lesson one in therapy school, you know, to make sure we stop thinking we’re complete piles of shit. I’m disgustingly self-deprecating, and not in a charming Hugh Grant way. In a ‘stop it, this is stupid’ way. And yes, the irony of that sentence isn’t lost on me. But she’d make a point to call me out when I’d end a statement with ‘that’s really stupid isn’t it’, or ‘i’m being an idiot’. I wasn’t a problem, i’m just human. Yes, with slightly flawed brain chemistry (is that a thing), but human nonetheless. And it was time to be kinder to myself.
She helped me see the bigger picture
With BPD it’s so easy to get caught up on minor details that you forget to see situations for how they really are. I guess an example that works is around my raging paranoia. If my boss puts a meeting in my diary with no context, or my other half texts me saying we need to talk later. She taught me to take a step back — my boss was probably too busy to write a note in the google invite, or simply forgot. A bit annoying, but forgivable, and it’s probably good, fine or even boring news. And my fiance probably just wanted to talk to me about what he always wants to talk to me about — what nights we need to get someone to watch our dog so we can have a date night.
She made me see there’s no place for blame
My other half joked that she’d blame all my problems on him, so of course, after every session, I told him she’d INSISTED I dumped him. It never got old. Nope. Not even a bit. But anyway, we talked mostly about my parents and my sister. I was lucky; I had a loving, supportive and happy childhood, but that doesn’t mean it was perfect, and it was clear to her that there were parts of my upbringing that still played a part in how I react to things now. Parenting is hard. Having a little sister is hard. And we’re all pretty different, with very different lives, dreams, jobs and personalities. It wasn’t about blaming my mom’s OCD for my incessant perfectionism, or my sister’s rejecting behaviour for my ruthless inner critic. It was about identifying slight triggers that made my own brain form harmful habits and coping mechanisms. And it’s no one’s fault; it just is what it is.
She showed me all the good in my life
It sounds a little basic, but sometimes it really does help to have an outsider take a look at your life and show you all the ways that it’s actually pretty decent. She hammered home how many wonderful, close friends I have, that I had a healthy relationship, a new exciting job, a new home. I obviously knew these things, I’m not a complete tool, but the power of someone pointing them out to me really hit home. Not in a ‘look at all the reasons you have to be happy’, way, but more of a ‘look at your support system and positive changes you’re making’. It was simple, but it helped.
She helped me form healthy habits
Realistic self-care looks nothing like it does on tv. It’s not about 2 hour bubble baths drinking wine, reading My Brilliant Friend. It’s not bougie manicures, massages, a new dye job and a quirky bob. (Why is it always a bob?). It’s brushing the two-day-old knots out your hair. Brushing your teeth at least once a day. Taking the dog further than to the end of the road. It’s texting a friend a photo of said dog because you’re still not up to words yet. It’s getting out of your dirty PJs into clean ones. Taking one of the twelve mugs from your bedroom to the kitchen sink. And it’s knowing that all of these things are huge, because it’s hard. And people don’t get that, but it’s ok. This is your version of self-care, not theirs.
I also know that this is one very idealistic experience of therapy, and I fully understand if this isn’t yours. And if it’s not, I’m sorry. Therapy should be hard yet helpful, but sometimes it’s just hard. For a crap load of reasons. But if you’re reading this and are thinking of giving it a go, try it. And if it’s been shit for you, try a new therapist. I’ve had three, and I’d only recommend two of them (which is still pretty good going).
Thank you for indulging me,
LB x
