“No matter how much attention I got, it never seemed to entirely fill the craving.”

Of all the Cluster B personality disorders, Histrionic Personality Disorder is probably the one people hear the least about. As someone who was diagnosed with HPD last year I am now sharing my story to try and explain how the condition affects me and remove some of the stigma around it. That’s not to say that I’m an angel- I know I am not, since I accept that my behaviour has at times been damaging to others and/or myself. But hopefully this will help people understand us more.

HPD is characterised by the following symptoms; feeling very uncomfortable if you are not the centre of attention, feeling that you have to entertain people, constantly seeking, or feeling dependent on, the approval of others, making rash decisions, flirting or behaving/dressing provocatively to ensure that you remain the centre of attention, getting a reputation for being dramatic and overemotional, and being easily influenced by others.

I’ve had most of these symptoms from a young age. It’s not unusual for kids to crave attention, but I clearly remember feeling jealous if someone else was the centre of attention and I wasn’t. It was almost as if people didn’t notice me, then I didn’t feel alive. I strongly suspect my HPD has roots in my childhood. I was removed from my parents’ care at a young age through neglect and I always felt like I had to ‘prove’ I was worthy of someone’s attention.

My craving for attention really took hold in high school. I was driven by a need for male attention, which meant I dressed provocatively, spoke suggestively and played up to the typical ditzy blonde stereotype, which actually wasn’t me at all. I was one of the popular girls due to my involvement in all the gossip, which I frequently exaggerated or made up, and I partook in any activities that brought me attention, such as sports and school drama productions.

I was strategic in my friendships. I made sure that I was the most popular girl in my group and that the girls looked up to me. But as a teenager, attention-seeking behaviour is quite normal, so nobody thought anything was amiss.

Towards the end of my school years, my need for attention began to take a more sinister turn. It wasn’t enough that I craved attention from my peers. I needed it from adults too.

Aged 15, I had a friend attempt suicide. She didn’t return to school, instead moving to alternative provision to finish school there. It was all anyone could talk about, and as wrong as it was, I felt envious. Although I was genuinely upset by what happened, I wanted people to give me that level of attention to. So I began self harming, which even writing down now makes me feel absolutely terrible knowing how serious mental illness is. I played up my mental health problems at every opportunity and made out I was suicidal, which gained me a lot of attention from adults.

The problem with attention is that it can be addictive. When I sensed people were losing interest in my mental health, I began to starve myself. Soon I was very underweight and once again thrived under the attention I was given. By this point a lot of my friends had started to realise what was going on and I was branded an ‘attention seeker’.

I’d also invent or exaggerate events in my private life and physical injuries for sympathy. I could cry on demand if needed, and I often did. My school reports were inconsistent as I’d take whatever form of attention I could get from teachers, positive or negative. It made no difference if it was praise or being told off, it was all equal in my mind. Yet deep down no matter how much attention I got, it never seemed to entirely fill the craving.

I was also often led astray by people who lavished me with attention. I was quite impressionable and gravitated towards people who were a negative influence. In my early teens, this constant desire for attention meant that I became an easy target for sexual predators. I regularly interacted with strangers online, lured in by their compliments and the thrill of attention from older men. Unfortunately because of this I did become involved in child sexual exploitation and this is something that has had a long lasting and damaging effect on me.

Attitudes are different now, but back then when I confided in people what was happening, the attitude was very much ‘you’ve brought this upon yourself’- people were well aware of how I thrived upon attention and saw my flirting and the way I dressed as an indication that I couldn’t be a victim- I must have initiated it all. I was fourteen years old, but this didn’t make a difference. I didn’t look or behave how a victim should, so I got no sympathy. And in the end, no justice either. Just a personality disorder that has dominated my life for the last twenty years.

Relationships are challenging. I’ve never had a probably attracting partners- I look after myself and am attractive, and I’ve been told I am charismatic and funny. But a lot of attractions are superficial. Because of the HPD, men are rarely serious about me. I have been known to have quite stormy and dramatic relationships and this puts a lot of men off wanting a relationship, but not sex.

I fell into the trap of thinking that attention was the same as serious interest a lot when I was younger, but I am now older and wiser and can see more clearly when I’m being played or used for sex. It’s been a hard lesson to learn that not all male attention is positive.

I have managed some longer-term relationships but they found my need for attention difficult to handle, whether it was attention from them or others. Many understandably had an issue with my flirting, which was almost involuntary and not restricted to people I was attracted to. Flirting is kind of like my currency; it helps me get what I want. I was also prone to exaggeration and occasionally outright lies. When they were found out, it obviously affected their ability to trust me and over time this eroded the relationship.

But sometimes I also felt like the fact I acted like the ‘star’ in the relationship bruised their ego. One of my exes said they were sick of being the support act in the ‘(my name) Show.’ Others  were naturally not as outgoing as I was and they got sick of the constant drama. There were also numerous times that I would fight with a partner and we would then later make up, only for them to find out that I’d ‘played the victim’ or embellished on events when recounting the tale to my friends, making them look bad. I thrived on the fireworks of tempestuous relationships. I’d tell myself it was a sign the relationship was passionate, but really it was a synonym for dysfunctional.

I’ve been called a psycho, a compulsive liar and a drama queen. I’ve been called ‘the one they were lucky to escape from.’ None of it makes me feel good, and to be honest until I started therapy I didn’t believe I was any of those things either. It was only when I got into my current relationship that I began to accept that something might be wrong.

My current partner handles me really well. He knew me way before I was diagnosed with HPD and this helped a lot as he knew what I was like. He never took my dramatic behaviour seriously, he just laughed at me when I was going off on one and would gently ridicule me, which was an amazing de-escalation technique for me as I’d just end up laughing at myself. This might not work for all histrionics, but humour is a big thing for us in keeping the relationship running smoothly.

It also helps that he’s slightly over the top and dramatic himself- he is a very loud and eccentric dresser, and has a larger than life personality. So he has no issue with my desire to stand out, as he does too, and we complement each other very well because of it. But when he started to notice the lies I told to make myself look good, he suggested I speak to my GP who then referred me to a psychiatrist. They diagnosed me with HPD fairly quickly- apparently I’m a fairly classic case.

For a while, I did therapy. I didn’t find it useful. Even I could have told the psychiatrist that putting me into group therapy was a bad idea- and inevitably it was. If there is one way to guarantee I’ll hog the limelight, it’s giving me an audience.

To be fair I did try really hard not to dominate the sessions, but I couldn’t resist jumping in with my own related stories and kept having to be reminded not to interrupt. I wasn’t being malicious, I wanted to show solidarity and empathy towards the others, but I know it must have come off as if I was taking the attention from everyone else. Once it was pointed out that I was being selfish, I immediately apologised and felt bad.

This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s not intentional or nasty. I actually rely on people calling me out on it as I often lack the self-awareness to realise I’m dominating social situations. I do it in all manner of inappropriate environments- weddings, funerals, group job interviews, you name it. But with therapy (which is now one-to-one, with a ‘tough love’ psychiatrist who refuses to indulge my need to be the centre of attention), I’m getting better.

My partner is the only person who knows about the HPD. I don’t think it would be very well received if I told anyone else. To a certain extent I get away with having HPD because of my profession. I’m an actress, so a certain degree of exaggeration and theatrics is expected. In fact in that respect it’s probably been an advantage, because my career masks my personality disorder.

When Amber Heard was diagnosed with HPD along with BPD earlier in the year during the defamation trial with Johnny Depp, I thought that things would go one of two ways. I thought it would raise more awareness and people would talk about it more, or it would create more stigma and drive it further underground. It seems to have caused the latter. I follow a couple of HPD accounts on social media but there aren’t many. I read somewhere that about the same percentage of people have HPD and BPD, but you wouldn’t think it. It seems to be the silent Cluster B.

My friendships are a different matter. Nobody wants to play second fiddle, so I’ve never kept friends for long. The drama that made me popular in my teens and early twenties is not as appealing now I’m in my 30s. People don’t want to be around people who thrive on it at my age. In some ways my mindset is very much that of a teenager. I feel like Peter Pan; I’ve just never been able to grow up in the same way other people have.

For all the negatives of HPD, there are some positives. My superficiality and preoccupation with looks has meant I’m driven to maintain a healthy lifestyle, and my OTT dress sense makes me feel unique. People know me as eccentric and bold, which is no bad thing.  I’m also good at creating circumstances which will bring me attention, so my PR’s life is a lot easier when I can generate my own publicity. But I wouldn’t ever say HPD is a blessing.