Getting diagnosed

Why so long to get diagnosed?  Well, BPD hasn't been identified as long as other disorders.

It's a bit slippery in its various symptoms and manifestations.  E.g. Not everyone cuts themselves.  Yet I'm certain an aspect we all share is some form of self-destructive behaviour.  And in some cases (mine included) we are treated for the symptom, rather than the underlying condition.

For example, I have been treated in the past for alcohol abuse and/or depression without anyone ever looking further. I was certainly a candidate for self-destructive behaviour in the form of sexual promiscuity during various eras.  But perhaps my most pervasive and consistent form of self-sabotage was running.

Whenever something "bad" happened I would move.  Break up with someone--I would feel I had to leave town.  Get overwhelmed and drop out of school? I wouldn't just take a break and return the next semester.  I'd suddenly disappear without saying goodbye or talking to anyone.  Leaving everything and everyone behind.

Nothing felt better than packing my suitcase, and getting on a bus or a train or a plane.  Destroying everything I had built.  Letting go of everything I had acquired.  Cleaning out my bank accounts, cashing in my investments, running up my credit card.

Rubbing out my old life and starting all over some place new.  I did that over and over again and it felt good.  Psychologically, I was cutting myself, watching my previous life bleed out.  I was relieved.

As a consequence, when eventually I did go for counselling, or someone took me to the hospital; my records were all over the place--in many different cities--even in different countries.

Initially, I was somewhat resistant to getting help.  But even when I did, no one could put the pieces of the puzzle together.  The pieces were scattered everywhere.  Some weren't even on the table.

Add to this my fear of the stigma of mental illness and the belief I was intelligent enough to figure this out on my own, you have a recipe to never be diagnosed nor receive the help I needed.

Perhaps only my family knew something of the crazy tangents of my life.  And I believe it is primarily through the advocacy of my sister that I have finally been diagnosed and am beginning to build the life supports I need.