The Unfiltered Chronicles of Living with BPD, ADHD, and Depression

The Emotional Rollercoaster (Now with Extra Loops)

Picture this: You’re at an amusement park. It’s sunny, the air smells like overpriced churros, and you’re excited to ride the rollercoaster. But here’s the catch, you’re not allowed to get off. Ever. Also, this coaster defies physics and might yeet itself off the rails at any moment. That, my friends, is the emotional landscape of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).

One moment I’m a radiant beacon of love and joy, and the next, I’m staring into the existential void because someone didn’t reply to my text with enough emojis. “Abandonment issues” feels like too clinical a term for what is essentially a primal, screaming panic every time someone even hints at walking away. Relationships? Oh, they’re my thing. I’m either all in, obsessively planning our fictional future together, or mentally drafting your obituary because you didn’t heart my Instagram story. There is no in-between.

ADHD: The Human Tornado

If BPD is the emotional rollercoaster, ADHD is the soundtrack: loud, erratic, and skipping between songs every 15 seconds. Focus? What’s that? My brain is a browser with 47 tabs open, and I forgot which one was playing music. On a good day, I’m a whirlwind of creative energy, tackling projects with the enthusiasm of a caffeinated squirrel. On a bad day, I’m… well, still a caffeinated squirrel, but now I’ve forgotten where I hid my nuts and I’m crying about it.

The worst part is the constant ping-ponging between hyperfocus and total paralysis. I’ll spend hours obsessively researching the mating habits of sea otters (why? don’t ask) but forget to pay my bills. Deadlines? Pfft. They’re just suggestions, right? The thrill of last minute panic is the only thing keeping me alive.

Depression: The Silent Killjoy

Depression is like that one party guest who refuses to leave. They don’t even bring snacks; they just sit on your sofa uninvited, sucking the joy out of everything. It’s not the dramatic kind you see in movies, with rain and violins. No, my depression is more like a beige fog that makes everything, even things I normally love, feel bland and exhausting. Think of it as emotional gluten intolerance.

Sometimes I’ll wake up and feel like the universe collectively decided, “Nah, not today,” and the weight of existence will press on me like a lead blanket. Pair that with ADHD and its delightful executive dysfunction, and you’ve got a recipe for lying in bed for six hours, debating whether brushing your teeth is really that important.

Relationships: A Battlefield (But Make It a Sitcom)

Relationships with BPD are like playing Jenga during an earthquake. My fear of abandonment means I cling harder than static to a fleece blanket, while ADHD means I’ll lose interest the second something shiny distracts me. Combine that with depressions lack of motivation, and you’ve got a one person soap opera, complete with dramatic monologues and accidental ghosting.

The Self-Medicating Chronicles

Ah yes, my coping mechanisms, a delightful mix of “slightly questionable” and “expensive therapy replacement.” When I’m spiraling, I’ll do anything to claw my way back to normalcy. For a while, I turned to tattoos as a form of emotional release. (Pro tip: nothing says “I’m fine” like impulsively getting a stick and poke tattoo at 3 AM.)

Impulsivity is both my greatest weakness and my accidental superpower. When I have an idea, there’s no stopping me. Whether it’s dyeing my hair electric pink or deciding I’m suddenly into candlemaking, it’s all or nothing. And while this chaotic energy occasionally leads to fun adventures, it also means I’ve eaten cereal for dinner way too many times because “I forgot to do a food shop.”

The Therapy Chronicles: Plot Twist, It’s Helpful

Despite my self deprecating humor and tendency to turn my life into a sitcom, I’ll admit therapy has been a game changer. When I first got my BPD diagnosis, I was equal parts terrified and relieved. Terrified because, well, it’s not exactly the friendliest label. Relieved because finally, there was a name for my chaotic internal world. (And no, that name wasn’t just “a hot mess.”)

The road to healing is messy, filled with awkward silences, breakthroughs, and more tissues than a Nicholas Sparks movie marathon. But slowly, I’m learning to untangle the chaos. I’m figuring out that self worth doesn’t have to come from others, that it’s okay to take up space without apologizing for it.

The Future: Spoiler Alert, It’s Complicated

If you’re expecting some grand epiphany or neatly tied-up conclusion, I’m sorry to disappoint. Life with BPD, ADHD, and depression is a work in progress, much like my half-built drum kit and unopened self-help books. But here’s the thing: I’m still here. And that’s something.

So, to anyone out there feeling like their brain is a chaotic dumpster fire of emotions and forgetfulness, know this: you’re not alone. We might be a little messy, a little impulsive, and a lot dramatic, but hey—at least we’re never boring.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go impulsively reorganize my books for the third time today. Because apparently, my coping mechanism is turning chaos into… slightly more aesthetic chaos. Baby steps.