I'm sick with a stupid fever and posting this here because I need someone to probably tell me to sto...
Hi, Justmehere,
Here's my two cents as a Borderline: I've been diagnosed with BPD for nearly seven years, and have lived most if not all of my adult life with it.
According to what I've learned over the years, from therapists and also my own research, there's only abatement of Borderline symptoms-no cure exists, just diligent self-awareness to keep them at bay.
I don't want to talk down to you or anybody, as you may already know this: Dr. Judith Henry, who's researched and made some great leaps forward in her BPD studies put it best, stating that those with BPD are "condemned to live a lonely life."
Our problems, without exception, stem from being in an abusive environment for extended times at a young, impressionable age, usually as kids, from which the possibility of escape is nonexistent or otherwise visible.
Eventually, when we can finally be free of the situation, we learn the harsh truth that our experiences follow us wherever we go.
We usually hurt many people along the way, as we try to break free from our past, often without realizing it. Not until we're diagnosed do we finally have the chance, if we are open to doing so, to realize what's happened.
Guilt, shame, and regret dominate-and I can't ever say so without it breaking me down and in tears, (as I am now), as I think back on my life.
I'm 51 now, but the same would be true for me at any age, and that's why Dr. Herman's right: No matter how many people I've lived with or around, I have lived a lonely life.
So has your friend. Think now of how many others are in her life. There likely may not be any others, and so you may realize that your caring so much for her might be rooted in the fact that it's up to you to grieve the loss of your friend, even while she's still here. It is a sad and unfortunate notion.
I can relate to you both, for as I step outside myself and look back, I grieve the life I've lived, and I'd be lying if I said there weren't times I wish I wasn't here anymore.
On an academic level I can see the mechanism at work; on an emotional level, it gets the best of me, as it may do to your friend.
We simply can't help how we feel sometimes, and just have to ride out the feelings until they go back to the hellish place from which they came.
That said, your friend, like me, has been carrying an emotional cancer all her life, and she's at the end of her rope. I've been there, too, and the only thing I want to do is be as comfortable as possible until I die.
It may be the reason your friend talks about the symbolic farm she'd like to retire to until she reaches her ultimate end.
There's a difference, of course, between being unable to do anything but wish you were dead and actually taking your own life.
But being on the receiving end of someone else's horrible energy, with no recourse but to endure it and hope against hope to survive, I believe in the energy each of us carry.
That energy can be something wonderful we're capable of sharing with others, and we do. We're still only human, and so we must, even in the twisted form we often create because it's all we know.
But, like a revolver, we can turn that energy on ourselves and take our own life, slowly but surely. Avoiding medical care and/or medication while suffering from a terminal illness is one way of doing so.
While I don't wish to try to explain what's really inside your friend's head now, it is clear that she's been suffering for a long, long time.
But I believe that you, in your ability to offer your kindness and even your loving energy (crying again) you are doing the right thing, especially if you can do so unconditionally.
It's why my beloved service dog, Sophie means everything to me. Like your friend has her figurative farm, I've often thought of just up and taking Sophie to Mexico and live out our days on the beach there.
But because I can make that a reality, just the knowledge of it is a comfort to me. So support your friend's indulging in her thoughts of the farm; it's possibly a big part of all she's still got.
Even if your friend isn't a Borderline, at least some of these feelings she has may well apply to her situation, as we Borderlines don't have a monopoly on the notion of wishing for death over life.
Again, I believe you are doing the right thing; there is no such thing as too much caring and kindness, friendship and understanding in a person's life, yours included.
Staying true to yourself is the best way for you both to live out her life, and you aren't likely to have regrets after she passes.
If it helps, remember that your friend has likely been suffering long before anyone-you included- were aware of it. Being Borderline is not something any of us with it readily share and, in fact may go to great lengths to hide it (think of comedian & actor Robin Williams' story here).
Though it's possible but not probable, your friend, feeling your positivity, may decide to forestall her passing by becoming open to care for herself.
But you will know you've done your best, as a true friend, and that's a wonderful thought for a dying person to have in mind when on their way to the next life, or whatever you believe happens after death.
My recommendation is simply to be sure you have support for yourself, too.
You are, as country singer Tim McGraw put it, "The kind of friend a friend would like to have," like so many others have once been to me, if only I'd known it then. But I'm grateful to have had such caring people-like you-in my life. So, too, is your friend.
Kindly, Sophie'sDaddy.
