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Don’t Leave Me: What Distance Feels Like for Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 19

People with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) often experience intense emotions, unstable relationships, and a deep fear of abandonment. Supporting someone with BPD requires patience, consistency, and a willingness to offer reassurance even when it's hard.

Don’t Leave Me: What Distance Feels Like for Someone with Borderline Personality Disorder

Imagine standing at the edge of a cliff, screaming for someone to hold your hand—but they’re just far enough away that you can’t reach them, and you're not sure if they’re walking toward you… or away. That’s what emotional distance can feel like for someone living with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).


For many, a text message left unanswered or a slight change in tone during a conversation may be brushed off as normal. But for someone with BPD, these moments can ignite a powerful storm of fear, shame, and panic. It’s not about being dramatic. It’s about living with a brain wired to expect abandonment and wired for survival.


The Abyss of Abandonment


At the heart of BPD is an intense fear of abandonment—whether real, imagined, or tiny in nature. To the outside world, it might seem irrational. But for someone with BPD, every sign of distance feels like a prelude to loss. It doesn’t matter if the other person is just busy, tired, or emotionally preoccupied—their absence can feel like a vanishing act. And when that feeling hits, it’s not just emotional. It’s physical. It can feel like free-falling in an empty room, like your chest is hollow, your breath caught somewhere between grief and terror.

This is why distance, even emotional or momentary, becomes so unbearable.



The Need for “Too Much” Reassurance


You might hear someone with BPD say things like:


  • “Are you mad at me?”

  • “Do you still love me?”

  • “You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”


It’s not manipulation—it’s self-protection. Because when your inner world is a battleground between needing closeness and fearing it will disappear, reassurance becomes a lifeline. Repeating, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” might feel excessive to some, but for someone with BPD, it’s like oxygen in an emotional blackout.


Persistence Is the Superpower


What makes the biggest difference? Consistent, compassionate presence.


Comfort that shows up over and over, even when it feels repetitive. Not perfection—just persistence. A quiet message that says, “You’re not too much. I’ll stay with you through the waves.”


Whether you're a therapist, partner, friend, or family member, your grounded presence helps rewrite the narrative. You’re offering a counter-voice to the inner scream that says, “Everyone leaves.”

Sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect thing to say. Sometimes it’s about showing up again tomorrow. And the next day.


But what if they push you away when you try again and again?


Well… try again.


If you love or care about this person deeply—even if part of you feels annoyed, frustrated, or hurt in the moment—keep showing up. That consistency, even in the face of rejection, is what's needed most. That’s what begins to undo the lifelong story of abandonment. That’s what ultimately brings you closer.



So here’s the question:


If someone’s heart is built like a room with too many exit signs, are you willing to be the person who keeps coming back in?


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When the Past Parents the Present: How Trauma Flashbacks Shape the Way We Raise Our Children

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 17

Trauma flashbacks are vivid, often overwhelming experiences where a person mentally relives a past traumatic event as if it's happening all over again. They can be triggered by sights, sounds, smells, or even emotions that resemble aspects of the original trauma. During a flashback, the brain's threat system is activated, making it hard to distinguish between past and present—which can significantly impact relationships, daily functioning, and especially parenting.

When the Past Parents the Present: How Trauma Flashbacks Shape the Way We Raise Our Children

Imagine this: You’re standing in your kitchen, your toddler screaming after dropping a cup of milk. Suddenly, your body tenses. Your heart races. Your palms sweat. You’re no longer in your kitchen—you’re back in that place, in that moment. It was decades ago, but it floods back now, triggered by a scream, a sound, a feeling. This is a trauma flashback—and for many parents, it’s not just a personal experience, but one that quietly seeps into how they parent their children.


The Invisible Link Between Trauma and Parenting


Parenting is often described as the ultimate test of patience, love, and endurance. But for parents with unhealed trauma, it becomes a battlefield between past and present. Trauma flashbacks, unlike memories, are not just recollections—they are relivings. The body and brain react as if the traumatic event is happening again. For parents, this can interfere with emotional regulation, communication, and even the ability to feel safe in their own home.


Without realizing it, trauma can hijack parenting moments. A child’s tantrum might not just be annoying—it might be terrifying. Crying might feel like criticism. Boundary-testing might feel like betrayal. In these moments, the brain is not reacting to the child in front of them, but to the ghost of their own childhood trauma.


Emotional Time Travel


Flashbacks may come in many forms: a sound that stings, a smell that transports, or a behavior that mirrors a once-feared adult. The nervous system doesn’t distinguish between past and present—it simply reacts. That reaction can look like yelling, shutting down, emotional withdrawal, or even dissociation. And the heartbreaking reality is that these trauma responses can confuse and distress children who need connection, not fear.


Parents may find themselves overreacting to minor issues, feeling numb during important bonding moments, or unable to tolerate typical developmental behaviors. Guilt and shame often follow. Many ask, “What’s wrong with me?” when the real question is, “What happened to me?”



What to Do In the Moment of Realization


When that moment of realization hits—when you suddenly recognize that you're being triggered, reacting from a place of past pain—pause. It’s a powerful moment, and what you do next matters.


1. Name it. Silently or out loud, say: “This is a trauma response.” Naming what's happening helps you step out of it and creates just enough space between the reaction and the response.


2. Breathe deeply. Inhale for 4 counts, hold for 4, exhale for 6. Repeat. Your breath is the fastest way to cue safety to your nervous system and bring you back into the present.


3. Ground yourself. Press your feet into the floor. Look around the room and name five things you see. Grab a textured object or splash cold water on your hands—anything to remind your body: You are safe now.


4. Reconnect with your child. If possible, kneel down, soften your tone, and say something like: “I need a moment to calm my body. I’m working on it. I love you.” This models emotional regulation and helps repair the bond.


5. Reflect later. Journal what triggered the response and how you felt. Over time, patterns emerge—insight that becomes the blueprint for healing.


These micro-moments of awareness and self-regulation may seem small, but they are the quiet revolutions that shift generational patterns.



Healing to Break the Cycle


The good news? Trauma doesn’t have to define your parenting. Becoming aware of how trauma flashbacks influence your behavior is the first powerful step. Therapy—especially trauma-informed modalities like EMDR, somatic experiencing, or internal family systems—can help reprocess these painful experiences and create space for healing.


Mindfulness, grounding exercises, and nervous system regulation strategies are not just buzzwords—they are lifelines for parents working to stay present, regulated, and responsive. And seeking help isn’t weakness—it’s one of the most courageous gifts a parent can give their child: the gift of breaking generational cycles.


Eye-Opening Question:If your child could meet the younger version of you—the one who endured the trauma—how would they want you to show up for that inner child today?


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Why Intimacy Feels Risky—and How to Build Meaningful Relationships Anyway

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • May 16

Why intimacy feels risky often traces back to early experiences where vulnerability was met with pain, making closeness feel more threatening than comforting. Even when we crave connection, intimacy feels risky because it asks us to be seen, known, and emotionally exposed—without any guarantee of being accepted.

Close Enough to Touch: Why Intimacy Feels So Risky Yet Matters So Much

Why do some of us pull away just when things start getting close? Whether it’s a romantic partner, a trusted friend, or even a therapist—we might crave connection but find ourselves building walls instead. This inner conflict is at the heart of Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stage of Intimacy vs. Isolation, a crucial developmental task that unfolds in early adulthood.


In this stage, the challenge isn’t just about finding someone—it’s about being seen, known, and emotionally safe with another human being without losing your own sense of self.


What Intimacy Really Means


Intimacy isn’t just physical closeness. It’s the courage to reveal your vulnerable parts, to be fully present with someone without armor. It involves trust, emotional risk, and the mutual exchange of authenticity.


True intimacy looks like:


  • Having honest conversations, even when it’s uncomfortable.

  • Letting someone support you without feeling like a burden.

  • Holding space for another’s truth without trying to fix or flee.

  • Maintaining your individuality while building “we.”


Why Intimacy Feels So Risky


Opening up means handing someone a fragile part of yourself—and not knowing what they’ll do with it. For many, especially those who’ve experienced betrayal, neglect, or emotional abandonment, vulnerability has been met with pain. We learn early on that closeness can lead to hurt, rejection, or even shame.


Intimacy can feel risky because it:


  • Challenges old survival strategies like shutting down or staying in control.

  • Forces us to confront our deepest fears: being “too much,” “not enough,” or ultimately unlovable.

  • Means relying on someone else—which can feel unsafe if support hasn’t always been reliable.

  • Makes us visible, and with that comes the terrifying possibility of judgment or loss.


These risks aren’t imagined—they’re wired into us through experience. But so is the capacity to heal.



When Isolation Takes Over


For those who struggle to form deep connections, the alternative is often quiet isolation—not always visible from the outside. People may appear social, successful, even loved—but inside, they feel alone. Past wounds, attachment trauma, or a fear of engulfment can all fuel a pattern of withdrawing when emotional closeness is required.


This emotional distance can manifest as:


  • Fear of commitment or long-term attachment.

  • Sabotaging relationships when they get serious.

  • Relying solely on oneself, refusing to ask for help.

  • Feeling fundamentally “different” or misunderstood.


The Healing Path to Intimacy


The good news? Intimacy is a skill, not just a state. It can be developed. It begins with self-awareness and is nurtured by safe, emotionally responsive relationships.

To build intimacy:


  • Start with vulnerability in small doses—share your feelings with a trusted person.

  • Notice your automatic reactions when someone gets close.

  • Seek therapy if past wounds make connection feel unsafe.

  • Learn to sit with discomfort rather than escape it.


When Connection Hurts: How to Handle Disappointment


Sometimes, you do open up—and the other person doesn’t meet you there. Maybe they shut down. Maybe they criticize. Or maybe they disappear.


Here’s how to stay standing when intimacy doesn’t go as hoped:


  • Name the hurt without blaming yourself. Disappointment is not a sign that you were wrong to try—it’s a sign you were brave enough to risk connection.

  • Grieve the letdown. Feel the sadness or anger fully. Let it pass through, not control you.

  • Stay rooted in your worth. One person’s response doesn’t define your value.

  • Revisit your boundaries. Sometimes, the lesson isn’t “don’t open up again,” but “be more mindful about who you open up to.”

  • Try again, with wisdom. Resilience in intimacy means knowing pain is part of the process—but not the whole story.


Disappointment can be a detour—not a dead end.



What If It’s Worth the Risk?


When we lean into intimacy, we create opportunities for mutual growth, healing, and joy. Isolation may feel safer, but it rarely leads to the emotional nourishment we all need.


So here’s the real question:


What would it take for you to let someone truly know you—and are you willing to risk being seen to be loved, even if it doesn’t go perfectly the first time?


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