When I tell people that I have borderline personality disorder, I anticipate one of two reactions. The first is that people have never heard of it; the second is that they have, and they think you’re a murderer. 

Occasionally, I may encounter the rare third reaction: “Really? But you’re so...nice?” 

Much of the last reaction is to do with the media portrayal of people with BPD as obsessive, manipulative and volatile. In fact, when I typed “borderlines are” into Google, the top search suggestion was “borderlines are horrible”, closely followed by “borderlines are evil”, which gives some insight into how we are perceived. 

What is borderline personality disorder? 

So what is BPD? To receive a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, people need to meet a minimum of five of nine diagnostic criteria:

1. Fear of abandonment
   People with BPD often have an anxious attachment style, craving emotional intimacy while also possessing a deep-rooted fear of being abandoned. This often results in a push-pull dynamic within relationships. 
2. Consistent patterns of unstable and intense relationships
   This is usually characterised by a process called “splitting”, where a borderline sees an individual or situations as either all good or all bad, and this perception can change incredibly quickly.
3. Unstable sense of self
   Many borderlines experience internal conflict over who they are. This can manifest as frequently changing interests, hobbies and clothing styles, and repeated attempts to change their image.
4. Impulsivity
   To qualify for a BPD diagnosis, people need to regularly exhibit at least two harmful behaviours - for example, binge drinking, binge eating, excessive spending, reckless driving, promiscuity or substance abuse. 
5. Suicidal ideation
   This is regular suicidal behaviour, including self-harm. Borderlines are 50 times more likely to attempt suicide than the general population. Almost 80 per cent will try to take their own life. People with BPD are also 13 times more likely to report childhood trauma than people without mental-health problems.
6. Affective dysregulation
   This is an impaired ability to manage emotional responses. This can lead to extreme or disproportionate reactions to events.
7. Chronic feelings of emptiness or boredom
8. Disproportionate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger
9. Paranoid ideation or dissociative symptoms
   The person experiencing these loses touch with reality.

Because people only need to display five of the nine symptoms, there is a considerable amount of variation between people with BPD. Taking into account also the fact that BPD is frequently co-morbid with other mental-health conditions, there is no typical borderline. 

I received my diagnosis aged 33, having been bounced between various mental-health services since adolescence, following years of chaotic behaviour and dysfunctional relationships. Many clinicians are reluctant to diagnose BPD because it is notoriously difficult to treat. 

Teachers’ fear of being stigmatised in the workplace

I began to wonder if there were other borderlines working in education and took to online forums. I was inundated with messages. 

All the people I spoke to were keeping their BPD a secret out of fear of being stigmatised in the workplace, which meant they couldn’t access the reasonable adjustments they are legally entitled to. 

And it’s not just existing employees who are at a disadvantage. I heard from several borderlines who disclosed their disability on job applications and, despite meeting or exceeding the minimum requirements, were not shortlisted for interview. Yet when they applied for similar positions and didn’t disclose having BPD, they were offered interviews and often employment. It’s therefore no wonder that most choose to keep their diagnosis quiet.

It is a huge shame that, by immediately discounting employees with BPD, employers are missing out on a pool of talent with a unique set of skills. Teaching gives me an overwhelming sense of purpose and fulfilment, and goes a long way towards filling the chronic emptiness that borderlines experience. 

It’s not always easy teaching with BPD. Triggers in the classroom can be a minefield, and I have had to make use of reasonable adjustments to help me manage - for example, avoiding certain subjects in PSHE lessons as they are likely to trigger dissociative spells. I also find objectification from male students very difficult to handle, and welcome recent initiatives around prevention of sexual harassment in schools.

That said, I have worked on my own coping techniques and communicate openly with colleagues to ensure I have support when needed. I have a clear strategy in place outlining what to do if I am experiencing a mental-health crisis, and this accompanies me everywhere. So far, I’ve not needed to use it, but I find it reassuring to take ownership of my condition. 

My strategy also details my medication and the associated side effects, such as extreme fatigue, and there have been instances where I’ve had to leave school immediately after I’ve finished teaching to go home and sleep. I’m fortunate to have colleagues who know and understand this. 

I’ve done the best I can to help myself - I no longer drink alcohol as it affects my medication, and I became vegan in a bid to curb binge eating. I have also taught myself DBT (dialectical behavioural therapy) techniques to help me manage my emotions.

I do not discuss my condition with students. My school is amazingly supportive but staff - and I - fear parental reactions. I hope one day I can be open about my personality disorder. 

While I would hesitate to say that BPD is an asset, it is not a life sentence. The more we speak out, the more I hope people will be able to look beyond the stigma to see that we are people with personalities, skills and identities beyond just being defined by the label of BPD. 

The author is a modern foreign languages teacher in the Midlands