“I would mask all day, and then crash once I was home.”

I have suffered with BPD since I was a teenager (around 14/15 years old) but wasn’t officially diagnosed till I was 19. I have what is classified as ‘quiet’ BPD, which basically means I act out a lot of my symptoms internally rather than externally. For example, others may punch a wall or shout and scream, I may still shout from time to time but I will storm off and act my feelings out inwardly (often resulting in self-harm).

I often describe my moods by saying they can change like a light switch. One second I can be hyper and overjoyed and honest to God, one second later (as though the switch has been flipped) I’m angry, overwhelmingly so.

I constantly have suicidal thoughts which I have learned to battle. They are just part of my everyday life. I also experience thoughts such as, ‘I’m an awful person and everyone hates me’. I often have to keep asking those around me (normally my family) if I’ve done anything wrong, or if they hate me.

I also suffer greatly from hallucinations, which have been attributed to my BPD. During day-to-day life, I will often see a figure standing in the corner without a face. When I first started to see him, I was petrified, but honestly, as time had gone on, I still him every day, but I’ve gotten used to him. If I’m particularly stressed or anxious, I will see bugs crawling on me and blood running down the walls.

As I’ve said, I do struggle with self-harm, although it was a lot worse when I was younger. I don’t have the best type of relationships. I can go from absolutely loving someone to thinking that they are the worst thing to happen. I have learnt to not text as much, but I think I’ve gone more so the other way. I believe I’ll leave before I can get hurt again. This will be not replying to messages, ignoring those around me. A big trigger for my BPD was school life. I suffered from verbal and physical abuse at school and I didn’t cope well.

I also suffer from OCD. No, not the type that everyone says they’ve got because they like things a certain way. Sorry that really, really agitates me. I often say, if people could see what my OCD was like for an hour, they wouldn’t joke about it.

I’ve had OCD for as long as I can remember. I officially got diagnosed when I was 14. I don’t have the stereotypical cleanliness type of OCD, although it does appear from time to time.

My OCD presents itself in terms of counting and rituals. My number is ten, or any odd numbers. I’m aware that ten isn’t an odd number but this is where OCD doesn’t make sense. I MUST count everything, and I mean everything, making it add up to ten. I may even need to tap certain items. I will enter a room and automatically start scanning and counting in my head, making things add up. I’ll do divisions and multiplications to make things reach ten. Why does it have be ten? I have no idea.

But I know if I don’t get it to ten, or even if it just doesn’t feel right, I will keep repeating the counting, or the touching until it is right. Why do I do this? Because my brain is telling me that if I don’t, something awful will happen. For example, my family will die in a horrific house fire. I will have awful thoughts, and I can see the imagery of it all, feel the heat from the fire, hear the screams of my sister.

My logical brain knows for a fact that me counting to ten isn’t going to cause/stop anything happening but it’s not worth the risk. I have specific routines to complete throughout the day to ensure everyone stays safe. One of my main routines is what I call my bedtime routine. This is simply when I head up to my room to get my PJs on before heading back downstairs for a little bit. It should take five minutes, but I’ve been known to get stuck in my room for more than three hours.

I will get stuck in my routine. If I can’t make things add up to ten, it doesn’t feel right. I’ll get myself so agitated and anxious that I start sweating, and a panic attack will start. I’ll start scratching my arms till they are red raw and bleeding, all because it doesn’t feel right or I can’t get it to ten. Often times, my mother has to come and physically drag me from my room because I can’t leave by myself. She then has to try and calm me down, getting me to breathe and seeing to my arms to bandage them.

I have these intrusive thoughts of awful, truly horrendous things happening and people like to joke about OCD like it’s just some silly cleaning thing. I often think that the development of my OCD is linked quite closely to my autism and the need for routine. I just seemed to take it that little step further. I was always seen as an over-achiever.

As I mentioned, I also have autism. I wouldn’t necessarily say I suffer from it, although it can feel like that from time to time. I was diagnosed later in life, at the age of 27. My parents were trying to get me diagnosed for years, since I was little, but because I made eye contact or hugged my mother, people just thought they were overreacting.

Obviously nowadays, there’s more of an understanding, although some people still don’t understand. I have a lot of difficulty with social interactions, so much so that I tend to avoid them at all cost. I don’t know social etiquette, although I have copied other peoples over time. I struggle greatly with small talk, but I am able to pull it off if needed.

Over the years, I have learned how to act like other people, copy their body language, how they talk to others. This was, when I was younger, to try and fit in or, most importantly, not stand out.  I was often deemed the quiet one, when I’m actual fact I was quiet because I was looking around to see how everyone else was acting so I could act the same.

I think that’s why people have a hard time when they find out I’m autistic, because I learned to mask so well. Masking is actually what I’ve just described- it’s masking, putting on face or act, and not acting how you’re truly feeling. I can touch objects that I hate the feel of, I can sit in a busy shopping centre even when I’m overstimulated and overwhelmed, because I’m masking.

The problem with masking is that it takes a massive amount of energy. I have come to realise that if I have to go out to the shops and put my mask on, I will need to, for the rest of the day, stay in my room, lie on my bed and watch Netflix. I often fall asleep, because going out and masking has taken a physical toll on me.

I feel that, with my anxiety included, all of my conditions conflict with one another. I struggle with social interaction (autism) but I can love it (BPD). I love my routines (autism) but I get so agitated and stuck (OCD). People often say ‘I’m just trying to keep my head above water’, well with me, I feel like I’ve sunk to the bottom of ocean, and I’m trying to keep flapping but to no avail.

I think it’s safe to say that I hated school. I tried to run away from primary school and I was physically and emotionally abused during high school. I loved learning about different things but I hated the school environment. I begged, begged, begged my parents to allow me to be home schooled. I think part of that was my autism and OCD.

School was different; a different environment, different people etc. I couldn’t ‘fit in’ with anyone, and definitely couldn’t keep up my counting and rituals without being further bullied.

During high school was when I started to really feel and notice, what is now known to be my BPD. I was the quiet kid, the weird kid, and I could feel the anger and the emotions switching in my head. That was when I first really started to self harm. I didn’t know how to control everything going on in my head. School got worse and, because it was expected of me, I went to sixth form, which only made everything worse. I was still the quiet and weird kid.

I would skip classes because I couldn’t mask much longer, or just because I felt like it. I made some reckless decisions, I self-harmed, I was starting to get out of control. I was still the weird kid and people took advantage of that. I wanted to fit in and they took advantage.

I think, looking back, my autism has a big role to play in that. I sometimes struggle to understand sarcasm and the other kids knew that. I couldn’t wait to get out of school. As it turned out, because I loved learning so much, I decided to go to university to study Psychology. I loved, and still love, psychology and learning about the brain. I remember thinking at the time that I wanted to learn what was wrong with me. As it turns out, nothing is wrong with me, my brain just functions differently to others, and that’s okay. But at the time I was so invested.

I made very few friends at uni because I was solely focused on the studies. However, at this point my BPD was coming into focus. Remember, I don’t present like your stereotypical outward BPD. I tried to party, but my OCD wouldn’t allow me and I didn’t like to drink.

My mood swings were becoming far more frequent and, at home, I was screaming and shouting and have a break down what felt like every few days. The self harming was becoming more intense and harder to hide.

However, I graduated uni and progressed to go on to study a Masters. I blame that on the autism, I need to know everything about a subject when I get into it. Things carried on as they were, the mood swings, the rituals, the intense studying and eventually I graduated.

I went on to study a PhD, but at that point my parents had to step in and convince me to take a time out on education for the time being. Looking back, that was the best thing because everything was so wild and out of control. I do want to get my PhD but I need to be very aware of how quick my BPD and OCD can spiral.

I struggle with work. Before I was properly diagnosed with BPD and autism, I was able to work, I could hold down jobs. However, I was masking the entire time. I could work 9-5 jobs, I used to work in hospitality. I used to, ironically, work within the mental health services.

I would mask all day, and then crash once I was home. This happened all day every day, and, when I had a day off, I would crash from masking far too much. I’d even got pretty good at quashing/masking my mood changes (BPD), and I could adapt my OCD rituals. However, this all took a toll on me. Masking so much just meant that when I didn’t need to mask, I was far too overwhelmed, I self harmed, I lashed out etc.

I think because I act more inwards with my BPD, it lent itself to being able to keep it contained during work. Obviously, I couldn’t do this for a long time, and I did reach crisis point with my behaviour. I’m in a slightly better place now, however I still suffer greatly with different parts of my conditions. I’m currently working, only five hours a week, at a recovery college, where everyone has their own mental health problems.

Relationships are difficult. I said this to my sister once and her reply was, “Relationships are difficult for everyone.” Yes, I agree, but I think relationships are particularly difficult when you have certain conditions that are fighting against you every step of the way.

Let’s start with platonic relationships shall we? Friends have always let me down or betrayed me, from being in primary school to now. I would have a very small group of friends, especially in high school, and we were the outcasts.

After some time I realised that they were all making fun of me as well, and were only pretending to be friends with me as a joke. I got older and, to try and combat the awkwardness I felt in social situations, I forced myself to be an extrovert.

The problem is, I went too extroverted, and I was far too full on. Hyper, constantly texting people 24/7. They all found me too much, so once again I was by myself. I realise now that I think the BPD had a little part to play in there as well.

As I got older, I really tried to close myself off to people, to not give anyone the chance. But one person got through my defences. We started going for coffee and messaging. I made a pact to never message first and he understood. I was trying to stop myself from going overboard.

As our friendship grew stronger, he took advantage of me. He manipulated me and abused me, turned our messages into something they weren’t and even went so far as to start to stalk me. I now don’t open myself up at all. I protect myself that way. It’s lonely but I don’t get hurt.

Now onto romantic relationships. This won’t be too long, as there isn’t much to tell. I told people I wasn’t interested in them during school or teenage years, or even uni. That I was studying. The truth is, is that no-one liked me. I was weird and different, and I could be erratic. It’s no wonder really. I didn’t know how to act in social situations so that doesn’t really lend itself to dating.

Also considering I struggle to get out of my bedroom because of rituals, it doesn’t help. I had a boyfriend a while back. Everything was great, he knew about my OCD and was really helpful, he even knew about my BPD and was understanding. He didn’t know about my autism but only because I hadn’t been diagnosed at that time.

However, as much as he said he was okay with everything, it soon started to take its toll. He became my favourite person (FP) and I did everything for him. I would constantly message him, I would turn up unannounced. I truly thought he was an angel, he could no wrong. Until he could.

Just like a light switch it all changed. I told myself that he hated me, he didn’t love me, he was sleeping with someone else, he was going to kill me. It was truly love to hate. This happened more times than I care to admit. Each time he calmed me down and convinced me he still loved me. Until that one day that he didn’t.

It was too much for him, and I can’t blame him. It was exhausting for me let alone him. He couldn’t take it anymore. The BPD ruined my relationship with him. I still love him but I know now that it was a toxic environment on both parts. And since then I’ve kept myself away from romantic relationships. I think I’m better off alone, and I’m surprisingly okay with that, even if it can get a little lonely.

I have personally found it extremely difficult to access any help. When I was younger my mum kept taking me to the doctors believing I had autism. Every time they said the exact same thing to her, that being, “Your daughter doesn’t have autism, she can talk, she can make eye contact and she can give you a hug, lastly, she’s a girl.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s wrong there.

 I feel like ever since then, it prepared me and my family for a constant fight to get help. I think getting help for my OCD came first. I had been forced to go to the GPs because my dad noticed my rituals (he suffered with OCD a lot when he was younger). At that time, I wasn’t concealing my so-obvious counting and tapping, so the doctor could clearly see that I was having trouble.

I got put on a waiting list for talking therapy and put in touch with my school counsellor. My school counsellor was a joke. I didn’t want to be there for many reasons, but the main one was that I was already getting bullied, I didn’t need to be going to the counsellors during lessons, it would only make things worse.

My counsellor basically told me what she wanted to hear, so I told her and she cleared me. It solved nothing, only made me more determined to try and cover up and mask better. I eventually got to see a therapist who I talk to. I told her all about the thoughts that lead to the rituals. She tried a little CBT with me and that was it. In hindsight, I think he was a trainee and I totally overwhelmed her.

As time progressed, I got better at masking and things started to go under the radar. That is until I got stuck in my bedroom for a total of six hours. So back to the doctors I went, and this time I got fast-tracked to CAMHS.

I think the less I say about them the better if I’m honest with you. My experience with CAMHS was not the best. I did however get an official diagnosis of OCD, and some leaflets on how to ‘get over’ the thoughts. At the same time that I was in CAMHS, I was starting to display some symptoms of my BPD, self harming, and mood swings. This was put down to anxiety and depression.

I learned that masking was the way to go, and so I continued to push everything down and act like everything was fine. The mood swings starting getting pretty severe and my mum was constantly trailing me back and forth to the doctors. She had found out about the self-harming and admitted that something wasn’t right.

The doctor told her that self-harming was normal. I have to say, it might be increasingly apparent in those who have mental health problems but it is not normal. It’s a symptom of illness. That’s what it is. But I digress. It was a constant fight to get taken seriously at the doctors.

Eventually they gave in and so the GP sent me to a psychiatrist. I say sent me, it was more like put me on a waiting list of about two years. It was around this time that I decided to try and jump off a bridge. I’d had enough of my life.  Obviously I wasn’t successful, but this led me to being assigned a psychiatrist, basically being fast tracked.

My psychiatrist decided it would be best for me to have a short stay in hospital, where I could get some tablets into me to calm the mood swings and then I could start DBT. I have to give credit where credit is due though, that psychiatrist kept to her word, and I was only in there for 2 weeks, which was a short stay.

After that, I attended weekly DBT sessions. They were intense. DBT is intense. And I hated it. I hated everything about it, until it started to work. I mean I still hated it, but it was helping so what could I do? CBT had never clicked with me, I did try it, time and time again, but it never helped.

DBT on the other hand, did. It was around mid-way through the course that I got an official diagnosis of BPD. I’m still on medication for my OCD and BPD, and they help to calm my anxieties and my moods. I was previously on an anti-psychotic but, ironically, it made me experience a psychotic episode so that did not help. Since then, I’ve been in regular contact with my doctors and my peer-support worker.

The help and skills I received from the DBT course honestly have saved my life. I just find it funny how you have to fight doctors to get that help, and they only seem able to help you when you’ve already reached crisis.

I however, even after my autism diagnosis, revived absolutely no support with that. I was sent a few pieces of paper about autism and that was that.

I think the most important thing I do is doing things that I love and enjoy, just for me. I’ve spent so many years in and out of therapy, being told what to do and how to act, and quite frankly, it made me miserable. Doing things for myself, just for the pure enjoyment of it, helps to break up the day to day struggles.

I’ve recently got back into baking. I used to love it as a kid, and then I stopped for a long time. I’ve started up again, not for anyone else other than myself. I’ve starting doing jigsaws again, just because they’re fun. I also try and get out of the house at least once a day. The fresh air doesn’t help to clear my head, even better if it’s raining. But I’ve come to realise that it’s not always possible, for whatever reason, to leave the house. So I try and give myself a little bit of a break, not beat myself up too bad and do something just for fun, just because I enjoy it.

I wish people understood that having BPD doesn’t make you violent, or doesn’t mean that you’re manipulative. Having OCD doesn’t mean I like everything spotless, and don’t even get me started on what people think I should be like because I’m autistic. What I’m getting at, is that people need to see past the stereotypes. I’m an autistic person, who struggles with mental illness. The same conditions look different on me than they do on any other person.

I also wish people understood that I’m not my conditions. Yes, they make up a part of me, but that’s not all that I am. I love music, theatre, film, I play bass and I sew and bake. People say the labels and think I’m not capable of anything else but lying in bed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are days when I can’t get out of bed, or leave the house, but that doesn’t define me.