I Used to Be Obsessed With the Idea of Being Loved

A story on how my borderline personality disorder diagnosis sedated my constant yearning for affection

My father and mother broke up when I was an infant. But because they were so young, my mom let her mother (my grandmother) raise me while she worked. I got very sick one time and ended up in the hospital and my dad took custody and soon after we immigrated to the UK.

I don’t know if you would class my father as lucky or unlucky with love but he has been married and divorced a few times. Not to push the wicked step-mother trope but the women he married were awful (to the female children). But I don’t blame them, as I said in a poem, “these women that demand you call them mother are taught women will always be competition so are unable to love their husbands’ children.”

The first ex-wife was only around for around two years, the latter it would be eleven years before they divorced. I was always aware she didn’t like me very much however, I truly understood just how much when one day she shouted at me for being an organ donor. She said this was evidence of my selfishness. After that, I promptly moved out.

But that would be years after so going back to my childhood, I would give it a strong 3/10. After all, I have been called every name under the sun by the people who were meant to raise and nurture me during my formative years; fat, a disappointment, a snake, greedy, selfish. One time my dad shaved all my hair off as punishment for signing my own planner (I was trying to avoid a beating, the irony). I was even told once or twice I was difficult to love. I had no life due to it being my responsibility to look after my siblings 24/7 (if you’d like to read more I go into it in another piece).

My happiest days were whenever the parents were away and I feel that no child has to live through that.

Growing up it was always implied that the reason I wasn’t with my mother was because she didn’t want me. And at home, it was always implied I was a burden they hoped to get rid of, so I was never interested in love, or so I told myself. I hated rom-coms and I was extremely dismissive of relationships however whenever someone showed even an iota of interest in me I would become fully invested.

Very soon — though I didn’t know it then — I became addicted to dating. But as soon as I saw the end of a potential fling approaching, I would get back on Tinder to find my next conquest. There was always overlap but it was fine because we weren’t serious right? But when things did get serious I would self-sabotage. I would constantly worry that they were getting tired of me. A single late reply was enough for me to panic. I would mimic behaviours and interests in the hope that it would make me better. I would question their feelings for me constantly because deep down I knew they were lying to me. After all, how could they want me?

The voices that told me that the other person didn’t like me would get louder the closer we became and I had learnt from experience that the only way to shut them up was to act on those impulses.

I knew something was wrong but I told myself that the hysteria I would enter when — they hadn’t replied to my message but had posted a tweet — was because “I was in love.” I told myself that checking their profiles every 10 minutes for activity was because I cared. However, I made sure to keep a cool girl exterior so they were always oblivious to backstage antics. Until there would come a day when I couldn’t hold in my anger anymore and we would argue about something. I would then block them off all socials. I would say to myself I would never speak to them again only to re-add a day later and apologise.

I was reckless with who I slept with, telling myself if I did it I could get love. Or never saying no because, what if they were the one?

I did this, falling in love and breaking my own heart, for years. Until one time I did it and the effects were devastating. To this day I don’t know what made this person different. Maybe it’s because we had been friends for years so being completely ghosted was evidence that my family was right; I was a disappointment and unloveable. If a friend could so easily remove themselves from my life, then everybody else would eventually do the same too so what was the point in living? I asked myself.

Getting my diagnosis changed everything.

Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a type of personality disorder. It is a very broad diagnosis but is characterised by; unstable relationships with other people, unstable emotions and unstable sense of self. It mostly affects women, and around 10% of patients commit suicide.

I began to piece up the diagnosis with situations from my past. I had always believed that I was broken but it turns out I was just very sick. My emotions would undergo rapid changes that I found difficult to control which is why sometimes I would have an outburst. I would push people away to test their love for me and when they left I would be heartbroken and want them back. I found out that my tendency for self-destruction was due to in part to the disorder and that I was using people to patch up the scars from my childhood. I finally understood why I could always be so completely enthralled in another person and a few months later not even remember their name.

In short, when a person with BPD (pBPD) loves someone intensely, the fear of abandonment will be so overwhelming and all-consuming that the mind, in order to protect itself from those overwhelming emotions, will suddenly “flip a switch” and cause to pBPD to suddenly feel nothing for loved one, hate them and lose all their memories of ever loving them. There is a relevant and well-known quote by a certain Dr Thomas Sydenham that accurately describes the unfortunate effects that BPD has on the people: “They love without measure those they will soon hate without reason” — Micheal Gera

I feel like the culture around monogamous relationships can sometimes permit a lot of toxicity, making it seem like it is the norm. For example, jealousy as a symbol of love and the idea that intense love is enough to cover incompatibilities. I soon saw that I was hiding behind these beliefs and would use them to tell myself that I was fine. I have realised that relationships are a trigger for me and that until I had had therapy, I couldn’t have them. I have also learnt how to make and maintain strict boundaries.

However, it hasn’t always been easy. Of the personality disorders, and, indeed, among all mental health conditions, BPD is one of the most stigmatized by both society and the medical community. We are branded as manipulative, attention-seeking and dangerous. Even writing this I was worried that I may be adding to the stigma. However, I own up to my mistakes and we can’t fight stigma by being silent. And I know that my wild mood swings, chronic abandonment fears, and impulsive and irrational behaviours were not intentional. And that I now have the resources available to care both for myself and those around me.

I have been doing a lot of reading around the disorder and the best thing is knowing I’m not alone. I always thought my unruly emotions made me crazy and that I had no one to confide in but I do.

My dad divorced his last partner, he is now remarried and he’s very different now. Like I said in a previous article, I have forgiven both him and her. As Salathia Richburg mentioned to me in a comment today, “they did what they did because that is all they know.”

Hurt people hurt people however, the damage has been done. Now, we will never know the cause of my BPD however it is thought to be a response to trauma. After all most people who have BPD have a history of major trauma, often sustained in childhood. This includes sexual and physical abuse, extreme neglect, and separation from parents and loved ones.

I used to be obsessed with the idea of being loved and maybe I still am. However, my diagnosis changed everything and I now know those voices are the disorder talking. I have been making an active effort to discover new things about myself. Whereas before I just ‘went with the flow’ and allowed myself to be swept away by every stimulus. I moved away from home to give myself the chance to explore my identity without the influence or preconceived notions people held about me. And like I said, definitely no dating and you know what? I don’t need it.

On the road to self-healing and discovery, I have fallen in love with myself. And slowly the scars are healing.

ZUVA is an award-winning Leeds based spoken word artist, poet and freelance writer. Click here to join her weekly mail list to get her — Comprehensive Guide for True Beginners — Things I Wish I Knew Before Publishing My First Piece.

She is the editor of An Injustice! A intersectional millennial publication. Check here for now to join!