A week was the most that I could stay in a workplace. I had work in the laundry mat, and various restaurants. But I was either fired, or I went AWOL. I would either fight with my bosses, could not get along with people in the workplace, or if I did not feel like it, I would not go work, just stay home and drink alcohol. People with Borderline Personality Disorder often have trouble having or finding a stable work. My behavior is a clear manifestation of a reason why. This was also the time that I got involved in a relationship. I met my partner in the shop in one of my "normal" days, and we suddenly hit it off. He told me he was smitten by my the "devil may care" and carefree attitude. He described me as a very social person, very charming and seductive person. I lived with him in an apartment. And the relationship was working so well in the first few weeks. But when he witnessed what was happening to me, he was shocked. I was very reactive to whatever he said.

I was devastated and became depressed. I cried. I stayed in bed or at the couch, watching TV and did not eat. I did not even bother to take care of myself. I didn't bathe, nor washed, nor cleaned his place. I would feel so low that I would cry for hours, more so when he was there to see witness my state. This would last for days. And when I became exhausted, I would slowly push myself to bathe, and go back to the "normal" me as if nothing happened. I would take care of him, do my duties as a devoted partner.

He loves me in my happy state. We would go out to different places in the town. Party and drink all night. People loved me, and he loved that "me" that the people loved. We would laugh excessively, drink booze and party till the sun came out.

But we often quarrel. We argue a lot. I get mad and jealous easily whenever he went to work or go out with his friends alone. I could not understand myself. I just feel this overwhelming emotion that I get mad easily, and then I shout, I curse, my anger welling up inside me it consumes my being. After the outbursts, I would feel remorse. If I couldn't let my anger out, I use sharp objects to inflict pain on myself. Then I would feel better. Just a little pain. I was still afraid to hurt myself.

I am not an intelligent person, nor am I what you would call stupid. I barely passed my subjects in high school because I was always rebelling. I love reading books, academic books and literature. And what happened to me, I believe was not because of stupidity on my part. I knew that there was not normal happening to me, but I just could not find out. My mood swings were terrible, my mood was constantly changing from mad, to sad to hostile to happy in a snap of a finger. Because of this, my relationship suffered.

The relationship lasted for five months. He tolerated my mood swings. But what he couldn't tolerate was when he caught me being intimate with one of his friends. We separated and I went back to the trailer. I became depressed. I let go of myself, did not take a bath, eat what was available which were mostly left-over or junk, did not clean. I drank alcohol excessively and would often pass out where I woke up in the morning of that day. I was thin from not eating, smelled from not cleaning and looking after myself, and my skin was blotched and red from constant intake of alcohol. The room was a mess, and I didn't care. This was my state when my sister came to visit me. She said our mother was looking for me, and that I should return home. This aggravated my depression that I thought of killing myself. I got the bottle of medicine that was in my cabinet for years and drank half of its contents. I thought I would die, but what I felt was stomachache that was so worse I just wanted to die. If this is dying, I thought, it's no fun at all. I was on the floor, crying in pain, with vomit all over me when my sister returned and found me. She immediately brought me to the hospital where I was referred to the Psychiatric Ward for my suicide attempts. I refused to be seen as not normal, that I assumed I was okay. I denied my depressive state. And I tried to be the charming person...

Despite that, they did gastric lavage to rid me of the drugs I induced. I vomited all through out the night.
After an overnight stay, I was interviewed by a psychiatrist in the morning. I later learned it was my mother who insisted in my hospitalization. The doctor asked me questions like if there were previous suicide attempts, illicit drug use, alcoholism, my sexual history and previous hospitalizations. Of course, I was the gracious patient. I answered diligently though not telling her everything. After the interview, my sister begged me to consider being treated. I refused to take the medication. I was so irritated and mad I shouted at her. We had a major fight, which ended in me leaving her crying in the hospital.

A stayed in the trailer, just drinking any alcoholic beverage I could get my hands on. I felt so alone and empty that I decided to mutilate myself just to see if I could still feel. I got a razor and started drawing blood on my lower arm. When I'd exhausted myself from feeling pain that I already felt numb, I decided to seek help. I called my sister and I cried. I begged her to help me once more and she agreed to help me understand myself.

A cleaned up myself. We went back to the hospital and consulted with the psychiatrist who saw me. She interviewed me, did an EEG, and interviewed my sister. I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. She diagnosed me using a guideline and criteria for diagnosing this condition which are present in me include "(a) a pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationship characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation, (b)identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self, - Impulsivity in activities which are damaging that include spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge-eating, (d) recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, threats or self-mutilating behavior (e) chronic feeling of emptiness and (f) inappropriate, intense anger or inability to control anger." (DSM-IV-TR)

She gave me lithium as a mood stabilizer, risperidone as my anti-psychotic and flouxitine as anti-depressant. Pharmacotherapy was used to deal with my aggression, anger and hostility, as well as erratic mood swings, and depression. he told me of possible side effects that these drugs may have which include tremors, restlessness, changes in my blood pressure upon assuming different position, weight gain, changes in libido, tachycardia and others.

She also advised me for hospitalization for close observation. My sister was primed for this since she explained the need for this - I had suicidal tendencies and my lifestyle is not exactly conducive for my treatment. Aside from that, I have no work. She suggested close observation and psychosocial therapy such as dialectic behavior therapy. It has been observed (Sadock at. al, 2003) that patients with this disorder perform well in a hospital setting since their behavior is observed, outbursts are controlled and many are away from detrimental atmosphere in their houses.

My sister looked at me and pleadingly asked for my consent. It was then that I saw the impact of my illness to my family. All of my loved ones, especially my sister and my mother were having a hard time trying to understand and help me no matter what I did. I agreed to be hospitalized.

I was hospitalized for a month at the most. I went to the psychosocial therapy scheduled for me. I felt better and they said that they said there was a noticeable improvement in me. I was then sent home. I refused help from my mother who offered to let me live with her and my sister.

I was well during the first three months of daily dosage of my pharmacotherapy. I easily found work in a nearby restaurant. I was earning my own money, and was having a routine. I stayed away from alcohol and drugs, and did not engage in intimacy. But this did not last long. I became lax in taking in my drugs, and I was beginning to go downhill again. The stress in work took a toll in my mental health- I again began to give up. I had…