
A shared journal of our experiences living with and supporting someone with BPD

We’ve cleared out the cupboards, and the wardrobes. Something has shifted. But who knew that things feeling a bit easier could be so challenging?

Here’s what stays with me from that morning: we were both dysregulated. Both of us. I was crying, you were shouting. Both of us were overwhelmed, both of us struggling to cope. But my distress was palatable. Yours was not. I got tea. I got kindness. I got sympathy. You got told to stop.

A conversation with my daughter about an NHS statistic turned into something bigger: how we rank suffering, how social media shapes diagnosis, and why invisible pain so often needs proof.

You exploded after dinner and I learnt a new skill.

Reflections on how my daughter’s BPD affects us both and my wish to find a shared way for moving forward.