BPD sufferers can experience psychosis too (Picture: Phebe Lou Morson for Metro.co.uk)

I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) in my early 20s.

BPD is a complex mental illness with many different symptoms that differ from person-to-person.

What not to say to someone with Borderline Personality Disorder

But it can be characterised by the sufferer experiencing strong, overwhelming emotions, attachment issues, anxiety and depression.

The less spoken about parts of BPD, though, are the paranoia, psychosis and dissociation that sometimes come as part of the package.


A 2010 study in the Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease suggested that the experience of these issues in people with BPD had similarities to those experienced by people with schizophrenia.

Yet they’re still seen as difficult to talk about symptoms and, for some, still taboo.



When I thought about writing about a day in the life of a person with BPD I considered describing the mood swings and the extremely low days.

But I feel like a dialogue has already started about these issues.

So instead, I chose to write about a day – December 3, 2017 – where some of the less talked about symptoms that I experience were getting out of hand.

9am:

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I wake up feeling anxious because my insomnia has meant I’ve only had a few hours a night for a couple of weeks now.

Despite this, I’m in a good mood because I spent yesterday evening with two of my best friends and I’m full of the joy you only get from spending serious time talking about life and the universe with your closest mates.

11am:

I decide to go to Oxford Circus to try and get all my Christmas shopping done in one fell swoop.

It seems like a good idea, and I want to get out of the house.

12pm:

It’s grey and dark outside, the lack of sunlight is starting to affect my mood.

On the bus, a couple of tracks come up on shuffle that reference drug addiction, this, combined with the weather, bring back a lot of painful memories and I start to ruminate on these while I travel.

1pm:

I arrive on Oxford Street riddled with anxiety.

The tube was busy and the memories dragged up by my playlist have upgraded into PTSD-like (post traumatic stress disorder) flashbacks where I can almost smell and taste the same things that I could at the time of those traumatic events.

The street is busy, obviously, and I tell myself just to stride with purpose and get this done as quickly as I can.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

2pm:

I stupidly try and grab some essentials from Primark, conveniently forgetting that shopping there on a weekend in December is essentially the busiest place in the whole city.

When I go downstairs, my head starts swimming and everything suddenly feels very hot and loud.

I try to remember if I’ve eaten enough today and whether or not this is a drop in blood sugar. Then I feel like I can’t breathe and realise it’s a panic attack.

The shop is incredibly claustrophobic and I feel like I’m being suffocated.



I panic, feeling like I’m going to pass out. I manage to leave promptly, gulping cold air and walk into the relative quiet of Soho.

3pm:

I attempt to drink a cup of hot tea in a cafe to ground myself and read my book but I feel impending doom set in.

The best way to describe this state is when you’re having a bad dream and you realise you’re dreaming so you tell yourself to wake up before anything nasty happens.

It’s that kind of feeling, that something is off.

But you’re not asleep and so can’t wake up from it. I suddenly feel very vulnerable like something terrible is about to happen any second.

I have intrusive thoughts of traumatic ways people have treated me and people I know. Rationally, I know the world isn’t a bad place but my irrational brain is taking over and it’s hard to stop it.

3.30pm:

I see an advert for WiFi-enabled home appliances that are controlled by smart speaker devices, and I nearly start crying.

I think of all the ways such appliances can be hacked and abused, and the idea itself seems so Orwellian.

I know I’m deep in tin foil hat conspiracy theory mode now, but I don’t seem to be able to get a handle on it.

I start remembering documentaries on how the Iranian nuclear programme was hacked and work myself up even more (despite being aware that a Smart TV isn’t really a fair comparison to a country’s weapons programme).


I message my two closest friends. They empathise with me and try and help me rationalise how I’m feeling, this helps.

Messages from friends and family can help on a bad day (Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

4.30pm:

I’ve been sat in the cafe for over an hour. I start to think the staff probably assume there’s something wrong with me.

But I don’t care because I’ve been frozen to my chair until now, thinking someone was going to stab me or blow up one of the nearby shops.

After an hour of speaking to various friends, my mum and my sister, I start to feel better and more grounded.

When these episodes happen, I begin to disassociate, which is that living in a nightmare state. But it can become so terrifying that sometimes I can’t even get home for fear of something bad happening.

Talking to people close to me about everyday things like their Christmas parties, what TV series they’ve been watching and looking at pictures of their pets starts to bring me back to earth.

All these real-life reference points start to show me I’m not in a dream. This is real, and I’m safe.

5.30pm:

I finally feel able to get back on the tube and go home, my friends have all checked in to make sure I’m OK getting home and that I know where I’m going.

I’m instructed to let them know when I’m back at my house safely.

It’s unclear exactly why these symptoms present in some people with BPD and not others. As with all mental health conditions though, the way they affect the person living with them can always vary.


I don’t always suffer from these types of episodes. However, when I do, I think they are usually linked to the amount of stress I’m experiencing at the time.

It’s important we all try and be aware of our triggers and how we’re feeling so we can administer self help (or seek medical help) when we most need it.

Also, maybe giving Oxford Street a miss until January is a good idea.

MORE: What to do if you’ve just been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder

MORE: Things you only know if you have Borderline Personality Disorder

MORE: No, it’s not a ‘cute illness’: What it’s really like to live with narcolepsy

MORE: How to survive the party season if you’re not drinking

Advertisement Advertisement