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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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Rebuilt by Kindness: Finding Hope in the Most Unexpected Places

  • Writer: Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • May 4
Rebuilt by Kindness: Finding Hope in the Most Unexpected Places

At just sixteen years old, I needed help. I don’t remember much about the preceding days. It crept up on me. I was a frog in boiling water, unaware of the decline in my mental health. When I was finally forced to pay attention, I had hope that my parents could help me. Maybe they did try at first to no avail, but I was sent away. I was too caught up in my own drowning, that I didn’t look to see what they were doing. It still feels like they gave up on me too quickly.


The Breaking Point: When the World Feels Too Heavy


I found myself in a strange place, surrounded by other young adults like me. There were art supplies, puzzles, and games. But we were all treated like inmates.


I tried to heal there. I kept my head down, put in the effort, but nobody acknowledged it. I was never sent home. Was I seen as being manipulative? Only saying what the professionals wanted to hear? Days turned into months, and eventually all I could do was sit on my bed and cry. I was alone and powerless. I had no legal say in the matter, the matter that centered around me. My parents had given up and abandoned me. They would not take me home. I was stuck.


The People You Least Expect


First, it was just me. But then there was a nice girl or two whom I could talk to. It was not a cure, but it did make the situation feel slightly less intimidating. There were some staff members who were extra kind. They would tell me what was happening behind closed doors. It gave me a slight twinge of hope that things could be okay.


Finally, finally, after seven months, I was free. It has been seven years since then, and I continue to find new people who fix something they did not break. In the beginning, there were classmates who were surprisingly understanding. New friends in my later teen years who never judged. Old friends who have seen every side of me and never abandoned me. People come and go. A lot of the people who helped put me back together, even if they had no idea they were doing it, are no longer active in my life. But I never forgot who they once were to me.



I currently have a nice group of friends, whom I grew close to during my senior year of college. Some of them know more details than others, but they are all part of my support system, all the same. Some people are good to talk to, and some people are good to escape from the world for a little while with. People build each other up in many different ways.


Trust Reimagined: Learning to Believe Again


I realized that I can be open and honest with certain people. While I still avoid telling my parents anything, I currently have a nice handful of people I know I can trust. It was not easy to get here. In the past seven years, several people have left my life of their own volition. Several people have still broken me. Learning to trust anyone in life is a trial-and-error sport. I have learned that the best approach is to go slowly. Find people you enjoy spending time with. Try to open up a crack of something personal. If the action is reciprocated, then it might be safe to dive deeper. The ironic part for me, was that the deeper I dove in, the less I felt like I was drowning.


I could breathe.


I have people I can go to on a regular basis with any sort of problem, and I know they will be there to help. The scariest part is over. The trust is there. It started small, but I worked hard at growing it.


Moments That Mattered: Tiny Acts, Big Healing


The small act of staying judgment-free talks millions. There have been times when I would need a friend to help get me through a situation. Sometimes I would not want to talk about it, and letting it rest really helped me process. Other times, I would engage in deep conversation with those who are a little closer to me. There have been times I had a conversation with a close friend, and there have been times when I’ll just watch a movie with someone and bury the hard times in a big bowl of ice cream. Sometimes it’s simply the presence of someone you love and care about that’s enough for you. They never judge. They never pry. They are there for you when you need them, ready with a hug and an ear.


What I Would Tell Someone Who Is Losing Faith


I know what it’s like. I lived through it myself. Your anger and your pain are justified. When the world seems too dark, remember that I am living proof that it does get better. There are people who are here for you. You may not know them yet, and they may not be who you expect. It does get better. I know you’re tired of hearing that. But you do not need to go through this alone. Keep fighting, and you will find the people who will help build you back up. You might be surprised how many good people there still are in the world. You might surprise yourself with how strong and brave you can be. The bravest thing you can do right now is continue forward. I believe in you. Please believe in yourself.



Still Healing, Still Human


I continue on my journey after seven years, and for all the years that lie ahead. It was not a one-and-done situation. Some of my relationships and trust have been permanently damaged. I go forth with an understanding that it is inevitable I will be hurt again. That being said, I also know that there will be new people and new relationships to nurture. All I can do is hope that I can work hard enough to make the best ones last.


Since getting through the darkest of times at sixteen, I have graduated from both high school and college. I work hard at earning things I want. I share my stories. I made some excellent friends. I have also lost friends, been heartbroken, been devastated, and had to make really tough decisions. But I learned that life has its ups and downs. Making a really hard choice can ultimately be better for your mental health. I speak with a therapist twice a month to stay as on track as possible. I picked up a plethora of coping skills throughout the years, and I continue to use the ones that work. I need to work through my trauma responses and the lasting effects.


Scars can heal. The ones that didn’t got covered up by a beautiful tattoo that I am proud to show off. The best thing we can do is continue to learn, to grow, to speak, and to help.


Carlie Malott

Rowena Poole

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a multimedia storyteller with a passion for supporting mental well-being. With a background in animation and creative writing, I use my skills to share meaningful messages that promote understanding and positive change.

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Breaking the Cycle: How Childhood Abuse Shapes Adult Relationships—and How You Can Heal

  • Writer: Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
    Julie Barris | Crisis Counselor | Therapist-in-Training
  • Apr 29

Childhood abuse shapes adult relationships in subtle yet powerful ways, influencing how we trust, communicate, and handle emotional intimacy. If you've ever wondered why love feels difficult or why conflict feels threatening, it may be because childhood abuse shaped your adult relationships more than you realized.

Breaking the Cycle: How Childhood Abuse Shapes Adult Relationships—and How You Can Heal

Some of the deepest scars we carry into adulthood are the ones no one else can see. They come from the words never said, the hugs never given, the love never consistently shown. If you grew up in a home marked by emotional abuse, neglect, or manipulation, it’s likely those early wounds are still echoing through your adult life—especially in your closest relationships.


Childhood abuse doesn’t just stay in the past. It shapes how we trust, how we express love, how we argue, and how we handle fear. And if it’s left unhealed, it can silently thread itself through your marriage and your parenting, passing its pain from one generation to the next.

But here’s the good news: you are not doomed to repeat what you lived through. You can break the cycle.


The Marriage Mirror


In adult relationships, especially marriage, unresolved childhood trauma often resurfaces. You may find yourself withdrawing when things get too emotional or lashing out when you feel unseen. Your partner may become a symbol—consciously or not—of your parents: the ones who ignored, invalidated, or hurt you. This projection can make it hard to distinguish your current reality from your painful past.



Small arguments feel threatening. Affection may feel foreign. You may crave closeness and fear it at the same time. All of this is normal for someone who never had safe emotional modeling growing up—but it doesn't have to be permanent.


These reactions often stem from deep-seated beliefs formed in childhood, shaped by the emotional tone of our earliest relationships:


  • “I'm unlovable” — If your parents withheld affection, criticized you constantly, or made love feel conditional, you may carry this belief like a shadow. It manifests as self-sabotage in relationships: pulling away before someone can “see the real you,” or staying in toxic dynamics because you believe that’s the best you can get. Love may feel foreign—or even unsafe—because your blueprint for it was damaged from the start.


  • “Conflict is dangerous” — If yelling, violence, or emotional explosions were part of your home growing up, any kind of disagreement now may send your nervous system into overdrive. Even healthy conflict can trigger fear, shutdown, or panic. As a result, you might avoid difficult conversations altogether, suppress your needs, or shut your partner out—all in an attempt to keep the peace, even at your own emotional expense.


  • “I need to be perfect to stay safe” — When love was tied to performance—when you were only praised for good grades, quietness, or obedience—perfectionism becomes a survival strategy. You may now place impossible expectations on yourself (or your partner), equating mistakes with rejection. This belief can lead to burnout, resentment, and a sense of never being “enough” no matter how much you give.


These beliefs aren’t character flaws—they’re coping mechanisms. Your mind built them to protect you when you were too young to protect yourself. But now, they can keep you from the very connection you long for.


Parenting With Wounded Hands


When we become parents, many of us vow to do better than what we experienced. But breaking generational patterns takes more than just good intentions. It takes self-awareness, support, and deep inner healing.


If your childhood was full of criticism, you might become overly permissive as a parent, fearing you’ll become “too harsh.” Or, you might overcorrect in the other direction, becoming controlling or anxious about getting everything “right.” You may struggle with emotional regulation, modeling instability without meaning to.


Children don’t need perfect parents. They need present, emotionally attuned parents—ones who are willing to say “I’m sorry,” to model growth, and to break the silence that shaped their own upbringing.


The healing begins with you. The curse ends with you.


Rewriting Your Story


Healing from childhood abuse is not easy, but it is possible. You can:


  • Seek therapy to understand and reprocess your trauma.

  • Set boundaries with harmful or triggering family members.

  • Develop self-compassion by learning to talk to yourself with kindness.

  • Communicate vulnerably with your partner about your needs and triggers.

  • Learn emotional regulation so your reactions align with the present, not the past.


This is not just about healing for your own sake—it’s about creating a legacy of safety, trust, and unconditional love for those around you.



Final Thought


You may not have chosen what happened to you in childhood. But you can choose how your story continues.


Are you ready to stop surviving your past and start building a future rooted in connection and healing?


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