I frequently have to be the “squeaky wheel that gets the grease”, and when getting my grease I’m often half BPD raging at the same time. I get very agitated waiting for my paycheck to come when it’s running late, and if I have to contact the company and complain, I’m usually pissed off before I’m on the phone or typing an email. For whatever reason, Borderline Personality Disorder and confrontations with poorly trained customer service agents end up producing copious amounts of angry words, screaming, fist pounding, and insults.

I’m currently dealing with a company that is over one month late sending me $915. The bank wire was supposed to clear a week before Christmas, but due to their complete and utter incompetence, it has yet to arrive as of the date of this post. I realize you are probably visualizing me stepping up on my high horse, much like those snotty customers at restaurants who are extremely demanding and then tip their waiter only 10%. Well, I’m definitely NOT snotty or demanding; I just expect to get paid on time, all the time. It’s not too much to ask of large businesses with millions of dollars in their bank accounts. (By the way, I used to be a waiter and I nearly always tip 20% or more when out to eat)

Today my anger with this particular company boiled over into a partial BPD rage.

First, I contacted my account representative (for the fourth time this week ) reminding him that my payment had not arrived. As my BPD fury started to ignite, I wrote a nasty email berating his company for its stupidity and inability to keep its own word. My anger continued to increase even after hitting my email “send” button, so I went into phase 2 of my “BPD customer service rage”.

I made a b-line to the actual company website, found the instant chat support page, and started hammering the representative with strong language, insults, and threats. Their excuse for their inability to pay on time was due to “delays associated with the holidays”. Now I’m fully aware banks and other financial institutions take Christmas and New Year’s day off and that work days preceding and following these holidays are light and usually understaffed. That excuse would work if I was complaining on December 26th. Today, however, is January 26th, and I don’t know a single bank in the world that takes the entire month of January off and ignores its customers.

I gave the chat representative a tongue lashing a la my keyboard, and gave him/her my phone number and dared them to call me :). They didn’t call (no surprise) and stubbornly held on to their lame story that the holidays and “volume of transactions” slowed payments. Sorry, I don’t buy it, not even for a nanosecond.

Just before closing the chat window, I threatened to cease advertising campaigns I launched on their behalf unless I received my payment in four hours. I thought maybe this would stir them a bit (since I’ve sent them over 450 customers over the past couple years), however four hours later my bank account balance was no different than it was when I woke up this morning.

NOW I’M PISSED.

My last words were, “I demand immediate follow up on this matter by email” (because they had never emailed me once over the past month-plus explaining their delinquency), and I pounded my fist on the table closing the chat window.

Five minutes later, I got a form email from someone with a fake name asking me if my payment had arrived yet. NO IT HAD NOT. Of course, the amount they quoted in the email due to me was $530, not the $915 I was promised by my account representative. It’s clear these idiots are spending my money either on crack or trained monkeys to type form letters on their behalf.

WE HAVE LIFT OFF.

I replied to their sh*tty email with more insults and harsh words for their quality of customer service. I finally reminded them that I have given them steady business and was appalled that I was being ignored like some beggar working a street corner. I concluded my email stating they would “lose my business” unless I received payment immediately.

Of course that payment and an actual customized email response never arrived.

I knew I was about to rage because I could feel my brain “tightening” and my blood pressure rising (literally). When I’ve had full blown BPD blowouts, my head literally pounds and I often find my ears ringing afterwards. I also typically feel tense, extremely agitated, confused, and unable to continue going about the business of my day without a LONG timeout.

Today was no exception: I simply yelled “F*ck it!”, and took a nap.

To all customer service agents: Roughly 3% of the population has BPD and we hate being screwed over. That means 3 out of 100 calls with BPD people will probably end up as training material for how to deal with irate customers. Make sure you don’t throw gas on the fire by making up stories, poor excuses, or outright lying for your company’s incompetence. Instead, speak to us BPDs on a personal level and try to calm us down or else you’ll be in for a nasty, hate filled schooling from a person with mental illness .

To those with BPD contemplating screaming at customer service: Support reps are human too. Give them a reasonable time to respond to your queries. If you get no response, or they don’t keep their word, write a firm email requesting the matter be resolved, or call reminding them they need to help you. Wait, and then send a second reminder. Delay as long as possible before detonating into a BPD rage, because things might not be the same afterwards. The poor customer service agent on the other side might decide to leave their job: and if they’re working for a piece-of-crap company, you’ve helped them make the best decision of their life .

My initial reaction to being repeatedly rejected was that somehow my BPD was coming through in my profile. Did my writing suggest someone who is emotionally volatile, desperate, and at times out of control? Does my picture resemble that of a crazy person? Maybe my choice of questions during the “guided communication” phase spelled trouble? I thought for sure my BPD was ruining my chances of meeting someone new.

Gut check: there are more simpler causes for eHarmony difficulties. The following are my thoughts/tips for eHarmony.com users with BPD based on my own experience as a male trying to meet women. These are not scientific fact; just my own rational thoughts collected after several months of thinking irrationally in a BPD mindset .

1. Where are you located? - Sure, it’s a nice thought that you might meet soul mate on another continent, but in reality meeting people by distance and creating chemistry is very difficult. After sending out over 50 communication requests using eHarmony.com’s system, I slowly came to the realization that my geographic location - not my BPD - was a big part of the problem. Even though Costa Rica is only a 3 hour flight from most southern states in the USA, it still puts up a barrier between my match and I that will turn most people off. Why date the guy “overseas” when you’re finding matches in your own state or even your own city? Before you throw in the towel and get down on yourself, start thinking in terms of dating logistics.
2. Play the numbers game - Technically speaking, every person to whom you’re matched is very compatible with your personality and lifestyle. The trick, though, is being mutually attracted over the internet based on sometimes low quality photos and impersonal communication. That means you need to shift focus to the 30,000 foot view. Initially, if I saw a match I liked I’d email her and then sit on my hands waiting for a response. When that response never came - or came weeks later (sheesh ) - I’d immediately feel rejected and upset. You can’t just focus on one person at a time, even if they seem like the perfect match. Instead, continually send out emails to anyone you like, regardless of the status of communication with prior matches. Don’t worry, you’re not “cheating” on someone (a typical head-over-heals-BPD-in-love-reaction) you’ve already emailed: you’re just keeping all your options open. Best of all, pursuing multiple matches at once will keep you interested in the website and diminish that “all or nothing” mentality that BPD creates when it comes to meeting relationship partners.
3. Put your best photo forward - I actually don’t have a lot of photos of myself. This is because I don’t socialize much and my friends and family don’t take many photos of me. No, I’m not the Elephant Man or Frankenstein. My shy, introverted personality just gets in the way of the usual sort of photo opportunities. That said, I can’t stress enough the fact that posting a good photo of yourself is absolutely crucial to eHarmony.com success. If you’re like me and have no photos, ask a friend, teacher, classmate, family member, or even the next door neighbor to take a shot of you. Don’t go overboard and dress up unless you have more casual photos to contrast your proper attire. Instead, focus on what you think is physically attractive about yourself and showcase it. Post 3 photos at minimum. The more the merrier. If people can see you happy in different situations that don’t appear posed, they will feel more comfortable communicating with you.
4. Don’t mention you have BPD - In all but the rarest of circumstances, DO NOT mention you have BPD or any other mental illness. If you do, you’ll be shooting yourself in the foot. Pick and choose what you reveal in your profile carefully. Remember, once someone else has seen it, they begin to form a first impression of you. Mentioning your struggles with BPD might make sense if you’re meeting new people in a therapy group but it doesn’t work for dating. Think about it: when was the last time you met someone and opened with “I have mental illness”? Probably never. BPD is a very personal and complicated topic. When it comes to meeting people online, save these things for fifth or sixth dates when the intimate details of your life are more appropriate to share. Cease any communication with someone who tries to pry their way into your life or who gets too personal too soon. Your secrets are yours to share at a later date.
5. Be honest and thorough about the information you choose to share - If your ideal woman is shy and quiet, don’t write that you want to meet a vivacious, outgoing, social-all-the-time woman. Similarly, be concrete and clear about things that are important to you, including potential deal breakers. If you love your cat and dog and are not willing to give them away for a potential partner, make sure to mention that you have pets. If you don’t have a good answer for one of your profile’s sections, leave it blank and come back to it after you’ve done some thinking. Avoid 4 or 5 word answers to open ended, broad questions. If you’re asked to describe the perfect date, do so within 5 or 6 sentences. This gives your match a good impression of your romantic mode of thought while not giving the house away. You don’t have to describe yourself down to the most minute details. Instead, put your best foot forward and be able to backup the things you’ve posted in your profile. Otherwise, your first or second date might result in disaster when your eHarmony match finds out you lied about something important.

Put BPD aside when attempting to meeting people at eHarmony.com except in the rarest of cases when it might make sense to talk about your mental health. In reality, everyone has parts of their life they’d rather not share right away. These issues are no different than your struggles with BPD. Once you’ve established a good rapport and been on five or six dates with your match only THEN should you consider opening up about your mental illness. Remember BPD is a part of you, not all of you. Show the other 99% of you that is happy, engaging, and interesting even if you have to put BPD emotions aside. In the end, opening up about your BPD is a matter of choice and timing. Don’t blurt it out on your profile or else you’ll scare away great matches who would have otherwise been interested in meeting you.

The other night I was on Facebook about 2:00 AM looking at what people were up to. Suddenly, I received an instant chat message from my first brother: “Hey, you still up?”. At first my thought was to ignore it, since I was a bit embarrassed that I was falling off my resolve to go to bed before 1:00 AM, but I decided to answer him.

He has good reason to be up late: his demanding job has rotten scheduling policies that often mean he works 2nd shift hours for a few days, then back to 1st shift. Sometimes he has to work back-to-back shifts with next to no time for sleep.

I replied “Hi, how are you?” We continued with pleasantries for a few minutes and then the conversation got deep pretty fast. He was lamenting his development of insomnia and the fact that he barely has any time to spend with his wife and step child. She works almost normal hours, just in time to help her son make it to Kindergarten and make sure someone’s home when he returns. My brother, on the other hand, is it the whim of his employer and sometimes goes off to work mid-afternoon on a Friday night and doesn’t get back in the door until early Saturday morning. That pretty much ruins date night with the Missus.

I casually asked him if he was on anything for insomnia, noting that as a youth he struggled with Attention Deficit Disorder and was given Ritalin and later Adderall. These drugs are effective at treating ADD, but also have their side effects. Instead of answering with with his new medication regimen, he said: “Well I’m seeing a therapist now”.

Immediately a shock wave of guilt came over me. As youths and teens we both were at each other’s necks, but I was definitely more often than not the perpetrator of psychological abuse. I acted that way to gain favor from my parents who were trying to find time for 4 children during important formative years. Now that I think back, it’s clear to see that BPD was brewing inside me long before my diagnosis midway through college. I think it actually may have started in High School. All the same, that’s no excuse to be mean.

I asked him, “Are you ok? Do you need any help with anything?”, which is what I normally say to someone who is distressed whether or not I can actually help them. He then dropped a bomb shell: “…I have major depressive disorder…”.

At first I was incredulous: he seemed to be doing well after his marriage, but admittedly was stressed about his job. I didn’t realize he was that stressed. Apparently he and his therapist have been working together for some time now; and he was receiving CBT, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. I also concluded it was highly likely he was on antidepressants as well, although he didn’t offer a conclusive answer answer regarding medication.

We then delved into our family history of “depression” (used loosely to describe mental illness), which is long and replete with many desperate acts. I actually told him in words, for the first time, that I was in the same boat with the melancholic feelings and also - by the way - that I had Borderline Personality Disorder. Interestingly, we both didn’t freak out to each other’s diagnoses, we seemed to both nod “Ah ha” over instant messenger.

Our conversation continued to meander and I mostly talked to him and didn’t go into detail about my situation. I was admittedly extremely concerned: he’s on an awful work schedule, has insomnia, feels miserable, and a good relationship with his wife that is challenged by work, their son, and the various other stresses of life. Throw all that together and you’ve got the perfect recipe for major depression, and we all know where that can lead without effective treatment.

Our conversation ended about as abruptly as it started. I think he may have stepped out of the room for a moment and I left a salutation in the chat window just in case he returned. I waited a few more minutes and it appeared he signed off Facebook, hopefully turning in for the night.

No matter what your family situation is, I think it is always scary to learn that someone else who is related to you is facing mental illness compounded by a demanding life. I won’t go into details why this has popped up in our family just yet, but I will say I think he and I may have some genetic predisposition to mental illness.

Before I close, here are a few interesting numbers about our family of 6 (Married mother and father with 4 grown sons):

• 2/3’s of the family has been on - or is still on - psychiatric medication.
• 2/3’s of the family has seen a doctor for some sort of mental problem, ranging from BPD, major depression, and ADD to minor concentration issues.
• 1/2 the family has seen - or continues to see - a therapist for mental health problems.
• 1/3 of the family has diagnosed mood and personality disorders, while possibly 1 more (Mother) might have mood and anxiety disorders. This is unconfirmed at the moment.
• 100% of the family has abused alcohol but none of us are alcoholics. We each did the usual tour of duty with liquor and beer during the teens and early twenties and it only complicated things.
• 1/3 of the family is Type 1 diabetic (my other brother and I). My father has to take extra care of his heart: his father died shortly before his 70’s of a heart attack and other ailments.
• 1/3 of family (that I know of) has engaged in self harm ranging from mild to moderate acts. There have been no suicide attempts.

Give all this empirical evidence, it’s unfortunately clear that mental illness is definitely a family problem, something that arises from poor genes, difficult upbringings, or chronic health conditions.

Enjoy the holidays: they are a good excuse to laugh and have fun with your family, even if you’ve had your differences over the years.

To be sure, this wasn’t something that I was mis-perceiving about myself. Both my track coaches and trumpet teacher were baffled as to why I could run fast or play my recital music effortlessly during practice sessions, but was seemingly unable to outdo myself during performances when it counted. They tried various different approaches to “get my head in the game (or concert)”, including everything from yelling at me to attempting to boost my self confidence using a “believe in yourself” approach. Still, I always under-performed and frustrated both myself, my teachers, and my coaches.

The natural question to ask: “Well, if you don’t really enjoy performing, why are you bothering running 7 days a week or practicing your trumpet at least 1.5 hours a day?”. It turns out that part of me really - almost desperately - wanted to achieve success either as an athlete or musician or both. I marveled at fellow athletes and musicians who could execute flawlessly when all the chips were down, impressing both themselves and the general public watching the event. I really wanted to bask in the limelight of success and not be a mediocre, run-of-the-mill performer.

I convinced myself that those who can’t perform well don’t succeed in a society largely based on merit derived from delivering outstanding performances. After all, when was the last time a professional sports team put the guy notorious for choking in the game during a clutch situation? Never. What financial company would want a nervous stock trader on shift when millions of dollars are at stake? None. When it counts, you want the person that delivers. He or she who practices hard but performs poorly is of no help in these types of situations.

The other day I was surfing the web in an attempt to find some of my old college race results. While I was browsing each result page, I felt as if I was temporarily sent back in time to the day of the race. All of the anxiety, nervousness, and nausea that accompanied me during pre-race moments washed over me again. To my surprise, I was getting a nervous stomach looking at decade old results sitting in the comfort of my apartment completely alone, surrounded by four walls and nothing more!

The instant I started feeling nervous and nauseous I decided to close my web browser and leave the room in an attempt to relax. Unfortunately, this didn’t work. I even tried laying down for a nap. When I awoke 2 hours later, my nervous stomach persisted. Even more troubling, it lasted for the rest of the day and well into the evening. When I got up the next day, there it was again, following me around like a bad shadow. In total it took me almost 3 days to relax myself and my stomach again: all caused by looking at college track results and allowing myself to become nervous like I did more than 10 years ago before the races.

I realize this sounds absolutely crazy: who gets nervous like this more than 10 years after the fact, alone in the safety of their own home? Well I do, and it upsets me terribly.

Before I continue, I should state that I had a complete Endoscopy and Colonoscopy last summer due to a bad case of constipation. After the exam, the doctor reported nothing biologically abnormal. There were NO ulcers, tumors, or malformed stomach valves. When considering these facts, it’s absolutely clear that my stomachaches are triggered solely by my own mind. Why?

After the 3 day nervous stomach wore off, mostly due to ignoring it and focusing on other activities, I searched mental health help forums for others that suffered from “nervous stomachs”. In turns out that this phenomena is relatively common, though not as dramatic compared to my own experiences. Recommendations from others included focusing on other thoughts, eating meals more than 3 hours before races, inducing vomiting prior to performance, or taking anti-anxiety medications.

All of these solutions made sense. Still, I was bothered that I could get extremely nervous merely at the thought of running in a race, especially given the fact that I am physiologically normal.

Ultimately, I think the nervousness stems from a fear of disappointing myself and others. I remember wanting to succeed so desperately that I would end up putting tons of pressure on myself, making the experience of performing - in this case running a race - very negative and anxiety ridden. The same happened with music. Think about it: Yes, even Olympic athletes get pre-race jitters, but when the gun fires they are off running like cheetahs. They don’t have to run to the bathroom to urinate, pass diarrhea, or vomit. They rise to the occasion and perform superbly. Surely if an Olympic athlete can not put pressure on themselves during high stakes competitions, I should be able to relax in my own performance situations that are scores less competitive than the Olympic games.

It’s simple to think about but difficult to actually do, especially with years of nervousness, lack of confidence, and anxiety built up inside me. The forum poster who said “It’s only a race, relax and have fun” hit it right on the head. Competing should be fun and not approached as if you’ll be executed at the finish line unless you turn in a remarkable performance. Another person said “Go to the starting line confident in your training, you’re NOT facing a firing squad”. Again, this person is absolutely right on. If performing feels like a death march, you’ll never like performing and will hate the very thing that you love on practice days: a relaxed yet focused effort that yields results.

I urge all of you with “nervous stomachs” to relax and realize that you’re only nervous because you care - perhaps too much - about what you’re doing. A race or music recital isn’t necessarily a life changing event whether or not you perform well. Further, think ten years into the future and ask yourself if winning a race, perfectly executing a Bach concerto, or acing an important exam will really matter. Most likely it will not, therefore, don’t act like something will have such a profound impact on your future if it likely will not matter years later.

Good luck to all, and most importantly, enjoy performing in a relaxed manner! It takes practice but is a great skill to master!

I saw a sleep doctor and completed a sleep study in July to rule out any somatic problems that might be interfering with my mental health. Among many other things, the doctor concluded that I should get to bed earlier than 3:00 AM or 4:00 AM. Additionally, he suggested seeing a local psychiatrist for a cross-consultation about my current medication regimen of Effexor, Welbutrin, Zyprexa, and Clonezapam.

So far, I have been able to walk back my bedtime. Now I aim for 1:00 AM or 1:30 AM. Going to bed earlier might see easy for some people. My problem is that my body, mood, and mind seem to perk up about 7:00 PM lasting until the early morning hours. That means when I do try to sleep, my mind is running in 100 different directions and is screaming for stimulation. As a matter of fact, I’m writing this blog at 12:15 AM. It’s hard to make a day out of feeling “good” between 7:00 PM and 1:00 AM, but that’s what my situation is right now.

At the moment I’m also getting low on Clonezapam. This medication helps me relax and sleep uninterrupted. My prescription for this medication is in USA. Therefore, my insurance only allows me a 30 day allocation per month. My parents mail the medicine to me. Unfortunately, due to their busy schedules and mail processing delays I sometimes go for 3-4 days without it. That means 3-4 nights without sleep, frequent nocturnal polyuria, and altered moods. Any time spent beyond this initial withdrawal period creates further problems: it becomes impossible to sit behind the computer, I become agitated easily, and I ultimately just lie in bed listlessly and only get up for meals.

So, instead of trying to tough out Clonezapam withdrawal, I’m thinking of seeing this new psychiatrist and getting a prescription I can use at a local pharmacy here in Costa Rica. It makes sense as a good contingency plan in the event my Clonezapam shipment doesn’t arrive on time. Unfortunately, my medical insurance does not cover any sort of medical examination outside of the USA. As a result I would have to pay cash for each visit to this new doctor plus cash for any medication he prescribes.

On one hand, I’m curious to see what he’ll say. Will he prescribe a totally new set of meds, or keep me on the current four that I take? On the other hand I’m loathe to visiting another psychiatrist because it means I’ll have to dredge up my entire mental health history again, recounting all of the lowest moments and desperate acts Borderline Personality Disorder created in my life. What if the doctor requires multiple visits before writing a prescription? Will he just use me as quick cash or will he take a genuine interest in my well being?

Finally, I’m simply just shy about putting myself in a new social situation. I get nervous any time I have to call a new doctor and coordinate a first appointment. I realize this sounds crazy: who is so shy that he/she can’t even speak up for the benefit of his/her own health? Well, that’s me. Now you know why I’m 32 years old with no wife, no kids, and no significant other.

I suppose I have two choices. One, I see the doctor and try something completely new; or two, I wait for a reprieve from my current rut of depression. Part of me can’t wait any longer for this depression to lift. It’s really bringing me down. I should be exercising more and eating less, but the exact opposite is happening because I have little motivation for self improvement.

Maybe that doctor visit is in order after all. What do I have to lose other than a few bucks and an hour of my time? Nothing really, I suppose…

Some people might ask, “What does it mean to feel empty and worthless?” After all, you run your own business, are in better economical shape than most, do what you want with your time, and have a couple good friendships. On top of that you alone have put together a substantial collection of rare and highly sought after USA paper money, enviable by most standards given the value of the collection is well into six figures.

My answer: feeling worthless and hollow emanates from a really deep place inside me, far past the material comfort and achievement layer that floats safely on the surface of my inner being. Making and saving a few bucks doesn’t do it for me. I wish it did, but it doesn’t. Instead, I am lonely, depressed, sad, and hopeless.

I’m 32, single, never married, and do not have children. By my age, most people are at minimum in a long term relationship; or at least have had a couple worthwhile long term relationships to date. I haven’t. My longest relationship was 5 months. All the others fizzled out after a month or two. Likewise, my attempts to meet people using services like eHarmony.com fail miserably: most women I am “matched” with don’t even reply to my emails. The women I’ve loved in my past look at me like paintings on a wall. They exist in an empty gallery that no one sees except for me. They are a constant reminder of what “could have been”.

Instead, these wonderful women have pressed forward with their lives, married, and have beautiful children. The singles scene is long gone for them. They don’t come home to an empty apartment. They haven’t disappointed their family by living adrift like I have. My mother famously said last Christmas, “…I’d like some grand children…”. One of my brothers is married with a step child. Another is most likely homosexual and has a good relationship with his partner outside the boundaries of my family; and the other most “normal” brother of mine has a great relationship with a woman he’ll most likely marry in short order. He’s got plenty of time: he’s six years my junior and doesn’t cope with any of the expectations and guilt that the rest of the family puts on me as a 32 year old bachelor.

Last year I adopted an abandoned kitten off the street. I love her MOST of the time, while there are moments I despise her presence and want to forget she exists. Fortunately for her, there is a modicum of decency within me that prevents me from such indifference; and demands that I provide adequate food, shelter, and health care for her. She would like to have more people or cats around. She gets occasional feline visitors but can only interact through a window. Sadly, because she was feral, I keep her indoors except for a fully enclosed patio space where her litter box resides. I suppose she is happy living in a state of ignorance. Wouldn’t a cat be happier with another to play with or a family to keep her busy?

The way my relationship with my cat fluctuates serves as a good barometer for how BPD sabotages my life. I love her. I hate her. I want her in my lap. I want to lock her in the closet. These feelings indicate BPD is alive and well inside me. If she were human, she would have left me months ago, hating me all the way out the door. This is why I’m afraid of getting into a relationship: If I meet “the one” I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, will BPD make it all blow up in my face before I can put a ring on her finger?

I suppose this realization explains the empty and worthless feelings within me. If I can’t maintain the bare minimum of human existence - that being a loving relationship with another - what do I really have to live for? Surely there has to be more to my existence than feeling like shit all the time. Why do I have BPD? Why am I Type 1 Diabetic? Why can’t I just be happy, healthy, and satisfied with my life?