Even today, six years after beginning to understand how Borderline Personality Disorder effects the way I feel, think and behave, I still have moments of overwhelming shame. Some of this is internalized stigma. But no one is born believing being ill is equivalent to being bad. We learn it from our culture.

And so to cope, I find myself sometimes splitting – a term used often for people with BPD, but one that I have mixed feelings about. I honestly didn’t believe I did this when it was first introduced to me. Splitting happens when how you currently feel contradicts what you believe to be true. As much as it causes problems, it helps to cope with the dissonance that this type of contradiction brings. Instead of having to face the contradiction, you write it off as an impossibility and deny the existence of one aspect of the split. Referring to splitting as “black and white thinking” has helped me understand how this coping mechanism (however distorted and harmful it may be) plays out in my life. And I can see it happening in small and large ways almost every day.

Here’s an example: this past week I spent time with five other people at a cottage in Muskoka. The honest truth is that these five people happen to be among my favourite in the world – Kathryn (obviously high on my list of great people), her sisters and their husbands. One evening, in the heat of a very competitive board game (and after a long day in the sun which had worn everyone out) my sister-in-law accused me of cheating. I was initially surprised and confused – was she teasing or being serious? I could not tell. As she continued to question my honesty, I was hurt and then quickly very angry, and then even more quickly incredibly embarrassed at what I felt like was an overly intense emotional reaction. I had to leave the table – but thankfully, was able to do so with a commitment to return in five minutes and we were able to carry on with our game.

When I spoke to her about the accusation later, she admitted that she was just very disappointed that her team was losing. She confessed that the intensity of competition which the six of us constantly feed makes her feel tired and sometimes not as smart or skilled or quick as the rest of us. She exposed her own vulnerability in that moment of accusation. After learning this, I felt so much grace toward her, and she accepted my apology for having a very quick angry response.

As I later reflected on this incident with my therapist, I realized that the shame that followed the anger was closely related to this concept of splitting. I love my sister-in-law very deeply, and to feel so much hurt and anger toward her contradicted how I usually feel. I felt I could not tolerate loving her and being angry. And so, I compartmentalized – either I had to deny my own emotion (which led to shame and self-criticism) or reject my love for her.  And of course, in any relationship, this is not healthy.

It’s not just with other people that I do this. I find myself splitting circumstances (I struggle to work every scheduled shift due to anxiety, and so I should just quit); splitting my current emotions from the past or future (I feel sad and even though I remember that I’ve felt happy before, I don’t believe I will ever feel happy again); even splitting aspects of my own identity (“I have hurt others because of my struggle with mental illness” gets split away from “I am a strong mental health advocate”).

The most damage comes when I split aspects of my own self into black and white. At times I feel like I am this creative, caring, intelligent and insightful human, ever searching to live well and love well. But in just a small moment later, I might feel completely useless, unworthy of being loved, a failure in every attempt to learn or grow as a person. Not only am I rotten to the core, I have no hope of being able to change anything about myself. I’m sure you understand where this kind of thinking leads.

I know others experience this too. It might not feel as intense, or be as conscious a process, but we all have these moments where we feel like rejecting the conflicting aspects of our own self. As is often the case, a friend recently shared a quote from author Elizabeth O’Connor on this very subject at just the perfect time.

I share it with you here, in the hope that reflecting on it will help me make peace with and even embrace my whole self while challenging you to do the same.

“If I respect the plurality in myself, and no longer see my jealous self as the whole of me, then I have gained the distance I need to observe it, listen to it, and let it acquaint me with a piece of my own lost history. In this way I come into possession of more of myself and extend my own inner kingdom. Suppose we come to know that every recognition of anger and jealousy and greed and sloth is an opportunity to lift out of the waters of unconsciousness a tiny piece of submerged land. Then, would we not pity the man who is so identified with the good that he denies any intimations from below that this good may not be the whole of him? Unaware that he is cut off from a large part of himself, he does not understand what it means to be on the journey of becoming whole.”

– Elizabeth O’Connor, Our Many Selves

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