They are real people like you and me. Yet they suffer in ways few would be able to comprehend. Please try to imagine what it would be like to be this 26-year-old woman from Wichita, KS. She writes:

“I was diagnosed with BPD about seven years ago. When I was told what it was, I went home and researched everything I could about it. I was excited because all of my problems finally had an explanation, and just maybe I wasn’t such a bad person. Maybe it wasn’t all my fault like I was always told and I always believed. And most importantly, maybe I had a chance to get better.

“Most of my family doesn’t believe in my diagnosis, and any friend I ever made has left because of the brief periods of time when I couldn’t control my emotions. I could never blame them for not wanting to be around me, but this all left and leaves me with absolutely no support system. Yes, I live in my father’s house, but we barely speak, and I harbor so my anger toward him that sometimes I can’t talk to him because I don’t know what awful words could come out of my mouth. My surroundings have left me feeling like there is no hope, because no one wants to help. Not someone like me. Not someone with questionable actions in their past.”

This person and the many others who live with BPD need understanding. Every one of us does.  Yet the way their illness affects them with behavior that’s hard to control, hides the truth. It hides the good they have inside them. Please don’t blame them for who they are. Please accept them. Even love them if you can.

When she comes to the end of her life, will there be anyone left to say she was a good person?