I am many things. I am the youngest daughter of three girls. I am a writer, a reader, and a dog lover. I am a Scorpio with a Pisces moon and Virgo rising (analse away). I am someone who has experienced a lot of grief despite being only twenty-eight. I am someone living with mental illness, and I will most likely always be that way. Each of these things impacts my daily life, even the astrology if the internet is to be believed. Each of these things is something I bring into each new relationship, whether I want to or not.

Whenever we enter a relationship, we do this with certain baggage. That might be the damage your last relationship inflicted, the scars of your parents’ divorce, the best friend who will always tag along, or whatever else you’re carrying. For me, my largest baggage comes in the form of my borderline personality disorder.

Past relationships

My mental illness was definitely present in my last long-term relationship. In fact, it ran rather rampant. Two people struggling isn’t always the best combination, and I think we wanted to help each other, but couldn’t. We were both drowning and then trying to push the other one up for air.

After that, I learned how to be on my own, which is no easy feat with BPD. This disorder is characterised by a fear of abandonment, an unstable sense of self, and feelings of emptiness, among other things. It’s a lot of fun, as you can imagine.

But I learned it, and soon enough, I loved it. I relished the freedom and independence, the way I was the source of my own self-worth. I started to think maybe I was better alone, maybe long-term commitment wasn’t for me. This was freeing rather than saddening, as if I was letting go of a structure I’d been taught to adopt. My life felt full, thanks to family, friends, work, and my passions. I didn’t miss relationships and I especially didn’t miss who I was in one.

Unfortunately and fortunately, I met someone who I really liked having around, and I agreed to give it a go.

Something new

Entering a new relationship with my mental health baggage was terrifying. The kind of fear that seizes your limbs and makes it difficult to think of anything else.

How do I tell them about my past? How do I tell them about the intrusive thoughts that plague me daily? How do I stop myself from repeating the same mistakes? How do I not ruin this like I’ve ruined so many things?

Initially, I avoided a relationship. I claimed things were casual and physical, while our behaviour and words said a different story. They wanted more, and I couldn’t fathom why, so I resisted. They assumed that I was a commitmentphone or just not that interested, but in truth, I was terrified to inflict myself on them. I saw myself as a disease that ruined every good thing. I felt like a stable and loving relationship was beyond my grasp.

But I didn’t want to let go of whatever was brewing, and friends urged me to let go of my fear, and just try. What’s the harm in trying, right?

Approaching the subject

It was tempting just to pretend that it didn’t exist. To hide that oversized luggage of problems in the overhead cabin and pray that it never comes out. But my mental illness isn’t just a label, it’s an explanation for who I am. I can refrain from telling them, but I can’t stop themfrom seeing and hearing, only then it’s without any context.

My mental illness is present. That doesn’t mean it’s the most important or noticeable thing about me. I am not my mental illness by any means, but it does exist, it does impact my daily life, it does explain why I act certain ways or think certain things. My mental illness is present in every new relationship.

From that first clotheless encounter, it’s there in the scars on my thighs. It’s present in my discomfort with my own body, and how I’ll try to hide under the covers.

It’s there in my paranoia when they don’t reply to messages. It’s there in my doubt, and how I’m constantly waiting for them just to end it already. It’s there in how I give too much of myself, too soon, and negate to ask enough in return.

I didn’t sit them down for a serious talk about it all. Instead, I brought it up naturally, in increments, when it seemed relative. It’s part of a larger conversation we’re still having, and we’ll keep having. They know what they need to know, they ask questions when they’re curious, and the space is there when I need it.

Expect oversized baggage

Entering a relationship with me means signing off for that extra luggage, there’s no way around it. But for the first time, I’m realising that maybe it can be a manageable part of things. I assumed that my BPD meant that I would always be overwhelming, needy, dramatic, jealous, and every other negative term. But this time, by some miracle, I’m managing not to be only that.

I still catch myself in the act, turning a molehill into a mountain, jumping the gun at the slightest word, or filling in blanks where nothing was said. But this time, I can stop, I can bring it back down. Perhaps this is my antidepressants working overtime, or maybe it’s that the right person makes it easier. They listen and they try to understand, even when they don't feel that way themselves.

In all honesty, I never thought I could trust a partner to be faithful. I haven’t had the best track record in that department, and I couldn’t help but see it as a reflection of myself. I didn’t think I was worth staying faithful for. Sometimes that mindset creeps in, but now I find it easier to tackle it. I trust my new partner, and even when I don’t, I want to, and I know I should. For the first time, it feels like I might be safe.

This isn’t to say that they’re perfect by any means or that this is some fairytale happy ending. Who knows? This isn’t about them, it’s about me. It’s about realising that I can be in something, whether it’s this relationship or the next one. It’s knowing that I can be alone too, and very happy that way. I no longer feel ruled by my mental illness, whether that’s desperately finding someone to love me or pushing away anyone that does. I can handle it, the right people will make it easier, and I’m just seeing how things go.