This blog is a temporary home for updates, drafts, and behind-the-scenes content from my upcoming book (the title may change): Too Much and Not Enough: Surviving and Living with BPD.
This blog is a temporary home for updates, drafts, and behind-the-scenes content from my upcoming book (the title may change):
Too Much and Not Enough: Surviving and Living with BPD.
This book is written for anyone who has ever felt “too much” or “not enough” because of BPD. I walk through my own experiences while also breaking down the patterns, struggles, and skills that come with living with this disorder. From navigating relationships and communication struggles, to coping with splitting and emotional permanence, to finding self-compassion in recovery. The book aims to validate the reality of BPD while also offering practical ways forward
What you’ll find here:
Sneak peeks at chapters
My writing process and updates as the book takes shape
Occasional reflections about BPD and recovery that may or may not make it into the book
This blog isn’t meant to replace my main BPD space, but to give people who are curious about the book a place to follow along more closely without me constantly putting updates on my other blog for people that don't want to see them.
If you’re looking for regular BPD resources, peer support, and reminders, please check out my main blog: @borderlinereminders. That’s where I share most of my posts, resources, and validation.
I’ll reblog major book updates there too, so don’t worry if you’d rather not follow multiple blogs!
Thanks for being here. Your support makes this whole project possible.
Okay, my latest update is that I’m really sorry this has taken so much longer than originally said.
Between real life issues, and trying to really nail down the editing, things have been delayed.
My husband has a week off in August, so I anticipate that’s when we will be publishing since he can help me edit. If not then, it will be earlier. We have been chipping away at it.
I’ve been going over and over this book and just can’t seem to get it ‘right’. The anxieties over whether it even says anything helpful and all that are really getting at me.
That said, if there’s interest I will continue posting chapters on this blog but the official book will likely be published in August or earlier.
My anxiety has been extra lately, and I’ve been too anxious to look at the notes in my activity feed.
I’m anxious about everything.
Either way, I had to do labs today because it is abnormal the extent to which it’s happening and the brain fog. Mixed with me being exhausted and unable to warm up and constantly sick.
Someone in my life thought it was awful that I said I hope something turns up on the labs, but those who get it will get it.
I already experienced the symptoms. I want an explanation. And with that, hopefully something to help.
Either way, my book has been delayed because my anxiety has made me anxious to publish it and that it’s awful and I’m going to embarrass myself putting it out there. I’ve had an ask asking about it and I do still plan to publish it. It’s just been hard fighting my brain.
It took awhile but we are finally able to get an isbn. I’m still doing editing and my husband is too though.
It’s pretty easy (at least for me) to throw a bunch of stuff together and write it out. But actually polishing it to flow and organize takes me a lot longer.
While I am still waiting for an ISBN, I unfortunately went into a depressive episode and editing has slowed down. The book is still going to be published, and I really, really appreciate all of you for being a part of this journey!
Well, apparently I should have looked into this more closely, because I need to wait up to 30 business days to be accepted as a 'publisher' for my book to get my ISBN for my book.
For my other books, I self-published through Amazon which does the ISBN for you, but I'm trying to avoid publishing through Amazon this time so that my book is available for purchase in other places too.
I just read the post where you shared your story, and seriously... I think it healed me a little.
I thought I was alone in these things, even though I know I can't possibly be the only one, I deeply believed it.
The despair, the attempts, the crying and the pleas... I felt seen reading it
I am a little ashamed of my struggles, and it takes a lot to be open about them.
So thank you for sharing your story, it made me feel less crazy about struggling with them at all. I felt... normal. And good enough.
Thank you, anon! Because this made me emotional in a good way.
It’s scary sharing some of the worst parts of me, but I want it to be obvious that this book really comes from a place of compassion and not judgment. And that I truly believe there is hope for others.
This chapter is skippable (well, technically they all are, but this one is extra skippable), but I wanted to include it for anyone who hasn’t been following me for a while. I think it’s important to show that this book comes from someone who’s been there.
It’s easy to read advice online from people who’ve never lived through the things they’re talking about. The “just do this” or “it’s not that bad” kind of advice that can feel dismissive and disconnected. That’s not what this book is.
This chapter shares a bit of my own story. It's not because I think my experience is special, but because I want you to know that what I write comes from a place of understanding, not judgment. My goal isn’t to lecture; it’s to help, and to remind you that you’re not alone while you figure things out for yourself.
Chapter 10 My Story
Content Note: This chapter mentions suicidal thoughts, hospitalization, and loss of friendships. Please take care of yourself as you read. Skip this if you need to. Your healing matters more than finishing every page.
When people read my writing now, I know it can look like I’ve always had the words to describe what I’m feeling or that I somehow made peace with everything inside me easily. That’s not the truth. The truth is that there was a time when I didn’t believe there was any point in staying alive. And I want to share that with you because I hated it when people said things like, “It can get better,” because I wondered how they knew that.
I am writing this to you after having been on that side of things, and I think that’s important to know. I’m not just throwing these words out there to attempt to make you feel better. I’m saying them because I truly believe there is hope.
I was once at a point where I believed there was no hope for me. There was nothing. It would never get better and there was no point in trying. My life was never going to get better, and people were never going to stay. I was never going to find joy, laughter or love.
I spent time in the psych ward. I tried to end everything more than once. I remember lying in that hospital bed thinking: well, this proves it. I really am broken beyond repair. I remember being angry that I’d been saved. And I was determined to try again the second I got out of there. I didn’t see a way forward. I didn’t see how someone like me, with feelings that came crashing in like waves, could ever have a life that wasn’t just drowning and resurfacing over and over again.
Back then, I thought my life was destined to be a cycle of losing people, self-destructing, and clawing my way through days that felt unbearable. And for a long time, it was.
I lost so many friends. I kept thinking they were just abandoning me, that it was proof that I was unlovable. What I didn’t understand, and what took years to learn, was that it often wasn’t them choosing to leave. A lot of it was me pushing. My behaviour was driving them away. Their unwillingness to tolerate it didn’t mean their love was fake. It meant they had limits, and I didn’t understand how to respect those limits yet. That was a brutal lesson, but it also shaped how I write about relationships now.
Sometimes I would spiral if they didn’t respond, and instead of trying to self-soothe or ask for reassurance in a healthy way, I’d throw hurtful accusations at them. I might have shouted, “You don’t care about me at all!” a few times, or more than a few. It got exhausting for them to keep trying and they felt like nothing they did was enough.
I want to be clear here: this was my personal experience. Not everyone with BPD drives people away, and not everyone’s struggles look like mine. This was my particular pattern and the way I had to learn about responsibility and connection. Your story may be different and that’s valid. I am not saying this is reality for everyone with BPD. I am writing about it because it’s my experience.
It wasn’t pretty. There were screaming fights. Doors slammed. Texts I regretted the second they left my phone. Silent treatments that lasted weeks. Desperate apologies that weren’t apologies at all, just pleas for people not to leave me. The kind of chaos that wears people out, until even the most patient friends throw up their hands and walk away.
I tried to ‘punish’ people. If they didn’t reply, I would leave them on read out of spite. (Of course, I always caved because I was desperate for their attention and it didn’t have the same effects on them as it did on me.)
That’s the part of BPD I don’t like talking about. The grief of losing people I loved and the shame of realizing it wasn’t just them. It was also me. And yet, and this is important, the story doesn’t end there.
Because while I lost people, I also learned. Slowly. Painfully. I learned that boundaries are not proof of rejection. I learned that love doesn’t disappear just because someone says, “I can’t do this right now.” I learned that accountability doesn’t erase my worth. It deepens it.
People often have said, “You’re still here, that’s amazing, that’s proof you didn’t give up.” And while I understood the sentiment, it never sat right with me. Because the truth is I did try to give up. More than once. Hearing, “You didn’t give up,” always made me feel like a fraud. Like my survival didn’t count because I had tried to end it.
It’s taken me a long time to realize that my story still matters. To understand that even though I tried to give up, I am still here and that survival still deserves credit. The fact that I didn’t succeed doesn’t erase the pain I was in, or the effort it took to keep going afterwards. I can still be proud of myself. I can still look at the person I am today and see strength, even if my survival wasn’t neat or heroic.
The hospital stays, the losses, the fights, the nights I sobbed my heart out on my bathroom floor. (In the middle of some breakdowns, I had the thought that I’d make a great cliché movie scene or maybe even look perfect in an emotional music video. My brain apparently wanted creative direction while I was falling apart.) Those moments are part of me. But they’re not the whole story. They’re the ground I’ve built from. The fact that I’m here, writing this book, proves that despair wasn’t the final word.
Sometimes I wonder what that younger version of me, the one in the hospital bed convinced life was over, would think if she could see me now. She’d probably laugh in disbelief, maybe even roll her eyes. I think she would find it impossible to imagine this as a possibility. But she’d also see that she made it here, that all her pain wasn’t the end of the story. If she could keep going long enough to get me here, maybe you can keep going too.
I’m not telling you this to scare you, or to prove my pain is worse than yours. I’m telling you because I want you to know that if you’re in the middle of that storm, you’re not alone. I want you to know that I understand the kind of hopelessness that feels like it will never lift. And I want you to know it can lift. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not cleanly. But little by little, cracks of light can get in.
The version of me that wrote these chapters is not ‘all better’. I still struggle. I still mess up. I still get caught in shame spirals and panic over texts. But I also laugh. I also love. I also have mornings where I wake up grateful to still be alive.
That’s why I believe you can too. Not because I read it in a textbook, but because I’ve lived the nights that nearly ended me and I’ve lived the mornings that surprised me with joy. Both are true. Both belong in the story.
And if you take nothing else from my story, take this: the fact that you’re still here, even in your hardest moments, already means something. Survival is not easy. But it is possible. And the life that feels impossible now may hold things you can’t imagine yet. It can hold softness, safety, connection and hope.
I didn’t believe that once. I do now. And I believe it for you, too.
Optional Reflection Questions (In the book, there's a disclaimer about not doing these if they may be harmful to you, but this is just a section of the book, so I'm putting that reminder here too. Please don't go through the questions if they might be harmful to you.)
While I know this chapter is about my story, I know that sometimes it can raise feelings for people that relate to it. If this chapter brought up feelings about your own story, here are some gentle questions to sit with, only if they feel supportive right now:
What parts of my story echoed your own experiences?
When you look back at your hardest moments, what does your survival say about you now?
What would you want your younger self to know if they could see you today?
You are not finished. There are still pages waiting to be lived.
My husband and I were away together, so I’ve been gone. Heading home today.
The cover artist for the book has been officially hired. I am so excited!
Part One of the book has been edited by my husband and I’ll be sending it off to my best friend with BPD to have a read through. We’re still on track to publish by the end of October!
Dang, I can't believe how far I've come in this book! There is huge progress.
I will say that I have reached out to someone about the cover art, and I really, really appreciate everyone that responded. It was really hard to choose because I honestly wanted to say 'yes' to everyone and my husband had to help me. (I think I remember asking him, but can't I just have several different versions of my book? He said it wasn't practical when we need money for publishing lol.)
I can't afford to officially hire this person until later this week/early next week, but assuming all goes to plan, that will be on its way.
My estimation is that the book will be published by the end of October!
This chapter is from Part Two: Navigating Relationships. Conflict doesn’t have to mean the end of love. Even though for many of us with BPD, it can feel that way in the moment. This chapter explores why conflict feels so terrifying, the common spirals we fall into, and small shifts that help us handle disagreements without destroying connection. From I-statements to DEAR MAN to mini-scripts for common triggers, it’s all about learning to pause, repair, and approach conflict as “us versus the problem” instead of me versus you.
I thought I'd share another chapter from the book. This one talks about emotional permanence, what it is and a couple tips.
This is still from Part One.
Part One explores what BPD is, how it can feel, the sort of symptoms we can experience (lack of emotional permanence, splitting, jealousy, anger, etc) all without judgement and an understanding that you aren't broken, bad or wrong for feeling these things.
Part Two is Navigating Relationships and focuses a lot on how to manage symptoms in relationships and communicate in healthier ways.
Part Three is where we talk about actual coping skills and ideas for handling situations. So while Chapter Three briefly touches on some ideas, this chapter is mostly meant to talk about the experience of a lack of emotional permanence in general.
Part Four is about integration and making a life you can find joy in.
I will also put a brief reminder that the book is still in the editing process and that these may not be the final versions of the chapters as I am sharing them.
Think about how differently we talk to ourselves compared to others. A friend cancels plans and we say, ‘Rest, you deserve it.’ We cancel and tell ourselves, ‘Everyone hates me now.’ The rules change depending on whose name is on the mistake. It doesn’t have to.
