I sit in a coffee shop, waiting for a friend who said she'd meet me at 3:00. It's 3:20 now. With each passing minute, a familiar dread creeps in: maybe she changed her mind — maybe she doesn’t want to see me after all. My heart clenches. Nobody likes me. This feeling isn’t new — it echoes through my life with borderline personality disorder (BPD).
Living with BPD means constantly fearing you’ll be disliked or abandoned. Even after dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) helped me develop new coping skills, I still wrestle with that haunting question: “What if everyone secretly hates me?” In this narrative, I want to share what it’s like to carry that fear, how DBT skills help me cope, and why rebuilding relationships is still so hard. I’ll use a few scenarios (composites of many real moments) to illustrate the struggle of maintaining and mending connections after making progress. Finally, I’ll offer some advice for loved ones on supporting someone like me — someone trying to get better, even when we worry we’re unlovable.
Emotion Regulation: Taming the Emotional Storm
One of the first things DBT taught me was emotion regulation. Before therapy, my emotions ruled me. If a coworker forgot to invite me to lunch, I instantly believed I was being rejected. I might spend the rest of the day fighting back tears or seething in anger. My reactions often overwhelmed people around me. No wonder some pulled away.
Now, I have tools to tame those emotional storms. I learned to name my feelings and “ride the wave” instead of drowning in it. So when that coworker forgets me, I pause and tell myself: “I feel hurt and lonely, but this feeling will pass. It might not even be personal.” I take deep breaths until the urge to lash out subsides. On the outside, I appear calm — a huge change.
But here's the hard part: because I stay composed doesn’t mean others trust this calm. Some friends still wait for the other shoe to drop. “I was bracing myself, just in case,” one friend admitted. Comments like that sting. I’ve worked so hard to control my reactions, yet I’m still treated like a ticking time bomb. It makes me wonder if people will ever see the new me, or always remember the old one.
Distress Tolerance: Surviving the Pain without Drama
Another critical DBT skill is distress tolerance — enduring emotional pain without making things worse. In the past, my panic led to desperate acts — a barrage of texts, even self-harm — that understandably scared my loved ones away.
Now I try safer ways to get through crises. I might take a cold shower, go for a run, or repeat a calming mantra: “This is really hard, but I can handle it.” For example, after a heated argument with my brother, I forced myself to step outside and breathe instead of screaming. I sat on the porch, counting breaths until the anger in my chest loosened. When I returned, I was quiet but composed.
I expected my brother to be relieved that I didn’t explode. Instead, he looked perplexed. He later admitted my sudden quiet made him worry I didn't care, which broke my heart. In truth, I cared deeply — I chose to bear it silently rather than unleash it. It’s a tricky trade-off: I avoided a blow-up, but my change left him unsure what I felt. I’m coping better now, but I often end up alone with my pain, while others keep their distance, unsure what’s happening inside me.
Interpersonal Effectiveness: New Boundaries, Old Reactions
One of the hardest DBT lessons was interpersonal effectiveness — learning how to have healthier relationships. My fear of abandonment used to control me. I would cling to people and ignore my own needs to avoid being left, or swing to the other extreme and push them away first. Neither approach led to healthy relationships.
In therapy, I learned to speak up about my needs and set boundaries while still caring about others — scary at first, but also liberating. I started small. I told a close friend I couldn’t talk past midnight because I needed sleep. She was supportive but surprised. Later, I declined a family get-together to avoid overwhelm. Most were understanding, but one relative scoffed that I “never used to say no,” as if my boundary were an insult.
These reactions taught me that when you change how you interact, even in healthy ways, not everyone adjusts smoothly. I finally respected myself enough to say “no” or “I need help.” Sometimes that was met with eye-rolls or chilly responses. It’s a delicate dance — trying to grow healthier without losing the people I love.
Stigma and Misconceptions: An Unseen Barrier
Even after all this progress, there’s an invisible barrier that makes reconnecting hard: stigma. BPD is often misunderstood. I’ve seen the wary look when someone hears I have “borderline personality disorder.” I see a wall go up in their eyes, as if they expect me to be “crazy” or dangerous. It hurts, because they’re seeing a label, not me.
I met up with an old friend I hadn't seen in years. She eventually admitted, “I was scared to meet because I wasn’t sure what you’d be like now.” I appreciated her honesty, but it stung that my past and diagnosis made her so anxious. It showed me how strong the misconceptions about BPD can be.
Society often labels people with BPD as “toxic” or “manipulative,” ignoring that we are usually reacting to intense fear and pain. Even loved ones might hesitate to fully trust us, misinterpreting every emotion as a potential meltdown or holding back to avoid upsetting us. I often feel I have to prove I'm not the old me, and that pressure is exhausting.
Advice for Loved Ones: Reconnecting with Patience and Understanding
Rebuilding a relationship with someone who has BPD — especially after they’ve been working hard to change — takes effort from both sides. Here are some ways loved ones can support and reconnect with us:
- Be Patient: Change takes time and setbacks happen. Patience shows you care and you’re not going to bolt at the first misstep.
- Communicate Openly: Be honest and gentle. If you’re confused or hurt, talking it through calmly helps prevent misinterpretations.
- Educate Yourself: Learn about BPD and DBT. Understanding our fear of abandonment or emotional swings helps you empathize and not take our struggles personally.
- Respect Boundaries & Reassure: If we take a timeout or say no, remember it's to protect the relationship, not to reject you. If you set limits, gently reassure us you still care (even a simple “I'm not leaving, I just need a moment” works wonders).
Closing Thoughts: Living with BPD often means feeling like everyone will eventually leave, no matter how hard we try. With therapy and support, many of us learn to manage our emotions and reactions. And with compassion and patience from loved ones, even broken bonds can heal. Your steady presence and understanding help quiet that “nobody likes me” voice and show us we are worth loving — even on days we doubt it.
