I was regarded as a “challenging child” growing up. There had been a lot of conflict in my home – neglect and physical violence. By the time I was 12, it took its toll and I began to struggle. I developed an eating disorder and was diagnosed with bulimia at 14. Around that time, there was also a suicide attempt that went under the radar.
Eventually, my mental health struggles led to one big diagnosis when I was 21: Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). It wasn’t a complete surprise; my mother had been diagnosed some years earlier. She had been in and out of hospital throughout my teenage years, struggling with substance use, self-harm and had attempted suicide multiple times.
My mental health deteriorated at university. I was in a state of decline: I wasn’t functioning as a human being: I couldn’t feed myself, I was drinking dangerously and the self-harm was escalating rapidly. Eventually, I could no longer continue, and I had to go home.
It was when I moved back home and was placed under my local services that I received my diagnosis. Since then, I’ve had a lot of different kinds of support and therapies to help me manage my symptoms. But, looking back, there were so many times that someone could have stepped in, and joined the dots as to what was going on with me. Sadly, the stigma surrounding mental health, particularly conditions such as BPD really clouded how my behaviour was viewed. It was seen as a choice, when in fact everything I was doing was a reaction to the pain I was going through.
Because of what I'd experienced in my childhood, I was totally shut down. I couldn’t feel anything, I was frozen and trying to feel however I could. It’s why I have a love-hate relationship with my own diagnosis of BPD. When I’ve met other people with this diagnosis it feels, to me, that it was a label that got stuck on you when they didn’t really know what else to do, when you were somebody that was displaying those extreme behaviours around self-harm and suicide attempts.
The diagnosis of BPD was reclassified in the World Health organisation’s official International Classification of Diseases in 2022, to become part of a wider spectrum of general personality disorders. Still, the label “personality disorder” is, to me, itself problematic. What hope does this give someone when thinking of their recovery, that their personality is broken?
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So what does it actually look like to have BPD? For me, it varies from episode-to-episode, but a lot of my behaviour has been to do with being able to connect to how I feel. The self-harm was often an outlet for a pain that I couldn’t express. Other times, it felt like a punishment, or it gave me a sense of control.
My understanding is that most people with the diagnosis have had some quite significant early trauma which has impacted their ability to communicate distress, regulate emotions, and to connect and form healthy relationships with other people. There are not many people that I will share my diagnosis with but when I do, I explain that I suffer from a mental health condition that makes it difficult for me to regulate my emotions, to communicate how I'm feeling and that a lot of that stems from sort of early childhood experiences.
As a society, we’ve become a lot more tolerant and understanding of mental health struggles, but often this tolerance is reserved for certain conditions, like depression and anxiety. Meanwhile, other conditions still come with a lot of attached stigma.
When I have shared my diagnosis with people, I’ve noticed their behaviour shift. For my mother, it was much worse. She struggled for many, many years, going in and out of psychologist appointments, community mental health teams, and it was always: “oh, you've got anger issues”, or “you’re manipulative”. People rarely recognise that we are acting from a place of pain and distress, not malice.
This stigma comes, not just from wider society but from within the mental health world itself. At a conference a few years ago, as part of my work in the mental health sphere, a renowned psychiatrist, began to speak about BPD, dismissively announcing that if there was someone with BPD in the building they’d be “making a fuss” as they “don’t want to be helped, as they don’t want to get better.” I couldn’t believe it. This was someone who was a hugely respected authority in his field and here he was, peddling the same stigma and damaging rhetoric I’d heard my whole life.
I’ve had some positive responses too though. In my twenties I had a manager who took the time to dig a little deeper. I used to find that I’d struggle more in winter, needing to take time off from work. She took the time to ask, “the rest of the year you're here, you're fantastic at your job. What? What's going on in the winter?” She was direct but in a very compassionate way. It helped me be honest when I was struggling and we searched for solutions together.
I’m 30 now, and in the decade since my diagnosis I’ve gone through talking therapies, CBT, workshops and various medications. When I continued to struggle, the NHS put me on the waiting list for STEPPS, which is a specific group therapy programme for those diagnosed with BPD. I found it really helpful to have a support network and to speak with people who had similar difficulties and who shared their coping strategies beyond self-harm.
Even still, when you’re really struggling, the basics – sleeping, moving, eating well – fall by the wayside. And I continued to struggle, though, as I didn’t fully address my childhood trauma.
Eventually I found private counselling the most helpful – and I still do it today.
Being armed with the vocabulary to identify and communicate my feelings has been the most helpful thing I’ve learnt. For years, I would be asked by therapists: “how do you feel?” and I didn’t know how to answer that, as I couldn’t feel anything. Years of numbness, detachment and disconnection had taken its toll.
Sadly, while I was seeking help in any way I could, my mum was drinking a lot, and she wasn’t getting the help she needed. We had a couple of years of no contact and since she moved to a different location where the care is much better (it really is a postcode lottery), we’ve been getting on well and our relationship is great now.
When we talk about mental health, often the onus is on the person struggling to “reach out.” But that can be incredibly difficult, when you feel so isolated. I’d really encourage anyone who is worried about someone to “reach in” and take the time to dig a little deeper with them. I don't believe that people go out of their way to be horrible. We behave in a certain way as a symptom or a product of something that’s going on. And sometimes, think if people are encouraged to look a little bit beyond the surface, we get some more answers as to what's really going on.
A note on BPD...
Rosie Weatherle, Information Content Manager at Mind says...
Borderline personality disorder (BPD) can be a very broad diagnosis which includes lots of different people with very different experiences. You might have been diagnosed with BPD if you experience difficulties with how you think and feel about yourself and other people, and this is stopping you from living your life as you'd like to.
Those of us with BPD may feel very worried about people abandoning us; find it hard to make and keep stable relationships, or experience very intense emotions. These emotions can last from a few hours to a few days, changing quickly. For example, from feeling very happy and confident to suddenly feeling low and sad.
Some of us find the diagnosis helps us to name, understand and explain our experiences to others. On the other hand, some of us feel that it's unhelpful and upsetting to call our experiences an illness or 'disorder' in our personality. And the diagnosis may be a barrier to getting the support we need.
It’s so important that those of us with BPD are supported. But unfortunately, you might find that some people have a negative image of BPD, or misconceptions about you. Though the way personality disorders are diagnosed has changed, the stigma surrounding them persists. Worryingly, Mind’s Big Mental Health Report 2025 shows an alarming rise in mental health stigma. Public attitudes towards mental health and people with mental health problems are getting worse, with more than one in ten unwilling to live next to someone who has been mentally unwell – even if they have since recovered.
This can be very upsetting and frustrating, especially if someone who feels this way is a friend, colleague, family member or a health care professional. But it's important to remember that you aren't alone. It might help to show people our information about BPD to help them understand more about what you’re experiencing. You could also take a look at our information on facing and overcoming barriers if you’re not getting the support you deserve.
For more information about BPD and the support available near you, visit Mind.org.uk/BPD or call the Mind Infoline available on 0300 123 3393 (lines open 9am - 6pm, Monday – Friday)
Mind’s pages on seeking help for a mental health problem provide guidance on having your say in your treatment, making your voice heard, and overcoming barriers.
Catriona Innes is Cosmopolitan UK’s multiple award-winning Commissioning Editor, who has won BSME awards both for her longform investigative journalism as well as for leading the Cosmopolitan features department. Alongside commissioning and editing the features section, both online and in print, Catriona regularly writes her own hard-hitting investigations spending months researching some of the most pressing issues affecting young women today.
She has spent time undercover with specialist police forces, domestic abuse social workers and even Playboy Bunnies to create articles that take readers to the heart of the story. Catriona is also a published author, poet and volunteers with a number of organisations that directly help the homeless community of London. She’s often found challenging her weak ankles in towering heels through the streets of Soho. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter.
