So, I have finally seen someone about my mental health. They assessed me and gave me a diagnosis. I am glad to know that I wasn’t crazy all this time, and I wasn’t making it all up.
The psychiatrist said I have severe depression and indicators of Borderline Personality Disorder. I have thought that for years, I need help with my affect regulation.
It’s comforting to finally be told that, someone confirming what I have known for years.
However, they don’t have DBT around here, and my only other choices to get better are medication and seeing a clinical psychologist.
The only other thing that is left on my mind is, I am genetically predisposed to mental health issues… so does that mean, no matter what I do in my life… I will always be like this? If I choose to go onto medication, will that  be forever?
Overwhelming.
3 comments
*high five* Wheeee, I was just diagnosed with BPD a month ago too. Though not as “severe” as some. Good for you, getting confirmation. I’ve only been on medication for depression. I don’t mind being on it forever. I like what I’m on now. In the past though I balked at it and weaned myself off… and eventually wound up here, so :\
I felt relieved for about 2 days after the diagnosis (with a “ohhhh it’s not all my fault!” feeling) and then realized having a label doesn’t change anything. Sigh. But, some people can get better. Read some books, search the web… but beware of “support forums” on the web — if they’re meant for or include the families of borderlines, steer clear. Reading their opinions will only make you feel worse. There’s a lot of negative stuff out there but some stories of hope too. That’s my 2 cents’ worth.
The first question I ask my analyst was if change is possible? I expected him to reply with a straight up yes, but he didn’t. We change and we don’t
Change is subtle. Everything changes and stays the same. Change happens very slowly then all at once.
Our body literally changes with every breath we take, yet we feel the same. No matter how old I get I still fell like the 18 year old in the moment of leaving home.
I believe there is a difference between Objective and Subjective experience of change, and that both experiences are best handled in different ways.
Having a diagnosis is objective that is usually treated objectively by medication, measuring blood and chemical levels and the body’s response to them.
How we experience the diagnoses, the story we tell ourselves about being depressed, and maybe needing medication is subjective. For our subjective experience talk therapy of some sort can be very helpful.
If you have to tighten a screw, you wouldn’t use a butter knife if you have access to a screw driver. The right tools for the job.
Worrying about a possibility of having to take medicating for the rest of your life, is a subjective experience that could exacerbate the objective experience and measurements. Projecting into the future is unskillful, and skills can be improved with training and practice. (like a yogi master become your practice)
We are both and more then body and thought; centauries of wisdom have explored the connection between the thought and body, the objective and subjective. Do our thoughts create our experience or the experience our thoughts? It is no wonder that at the end of the search many have proclaimed that life is illusion, wondrous, and or absurd.
If it is illusion we might as well work to create a helpful one, if absurd might as well laugh. And laughing at our illusions discover wonder… worth a shot anyway.
Sadbk is right, there are allot of books written by people who have worked their way through this morass and come back on the other side. Almost all ferry tails and myths are about overcoming such obstacles and by overcoming – becoming.
It is the hero’s journey. (See Joseph Campbell hero of a thousand faces)
I wish you well on your journey
“We’re in a free fall into future. We don’t know where we’re going. Things are changing so fast. And always when you’re going through a long tunnel, anxiety comes along. But all you have to do to transform your hell into a paradise is to turn your fall into a voluntary act. It’s a very interesting shift of perspective . . . Joyfully participate in the sorrows of the world and everything changes.” —Joseph Campbell
Congratulations, Solace! Now, I have a question for you: I’ve finally broken down (emotionally it seems) and reached out to a few therapists recommend by my physician. I just rang them today so I do not yet have any appointments, etc but I’m extremely nervous to the point I’m shaking. Since you’ve done this I wonder: what is it like? What do they ask?
I picture someone laying on a sofa crying their heart out while a bearded older gent with round glasses and a tweed sport coat taps his expensive fountain pen to his cheek and mutters, “interesting”, then begins feverishly jotting words onto a note pad. I know this is probably a most unrealistic thought and probably more of a cartoon-esque view but I really do not know what to expect. Could you share your experience?