What is splitting episode feels like:

There’s a book about Borderline Personality Disorder called " I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me."

And honestly, the title alone captures what so many of us live through...

The emotional chaos. The fear of abandonment. The unbearable push and pull.

It’s not just a dramatic phrase-it’s the inside of our hearts, exposed.

Because that’s what it feels like.

To push away the people you love most-not because you don’t care, but because you care too much and it terrifies you.

It’s not just being emotional.

It’s not being “too sensitive.”

It’s a full-body, mind-spinning, soul-crushing switch that happens in seconds.

One minute, I love you. I feel safe with you.

The next, something shifts-and I’m not sure if you ever cared at all or worse I'm not sure I do anymore.

Sometimes the pain whispers, you’d be better off without me. Other times, it screams, I’d be better off without you. In the midst of that chaos, discerning the truth becomes nearly impossible-because both thoughts hurt in different ways.

That’s what a splitting episode feels like when you live with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). It’s not drama. It’s not manipulation. It’s survival mode. It’s my nervous system going into lockdown. It’s grief and panic and betrayal flooding my body before I can make sense of a single word. It’s a fire alarm going off inside me while everyone else hears silence.

I can go months without having an episode....I can feel stable. Clear. Grounded.

But when a split does happen… it feels like ten steps forward, thirty steps backward.

Like I’ve failed at being okay.

Like I’m losing a war I thought I was finally winning.

What Triggers It for Me:

It’s not about late texts or someone being busy. That doesn’t rattle me.

It’s when I feel disrespected.

Left out.

Lied to.

Erased.

Compared.

Dismissed.

Abandoned.

Not loved.

Or even just the fear of these things, not even the actual reality.

It’s when the story doesn’t line up. When I ask a question and get deflection. When I know deep down I’m not being told the truth.

It’s when I feel invisible in a room I should belong in.

It’s when I sense someone twisting the truth or making me question my reality.

And maybe the hardest one to admit:

It’s when I feel like I need to stand up for my inner child.

Because I didn’t get to before.

Because I should have told my father, That’s not okay. You don’t get to treat me like that.

Because now, when someone crosses a line, I go to war for the little girl in me who had to stay quiet.

And sometimes, I don’t know how to come back down once I go into battle.

What it is:

It took me a long time to understand what splitting actually meant.

I used to think it was just a feeling or a mood swing. But it’s deeper than that.

Splitting is something I do to you in my mind.

In that moment, I am splitting you into categories.

You’re no longer a full, nuanced, flawed-but-still-good human being.

You’re either good or bad. Safe or unsafe. For me or against me.

There’s no gray. Only survival.

You were my safe space-now you’re the danger.

You were my favorite person-now you’re the reason I’m hurting.

You're my bestfriend to blocked.

You’re either the best mom in the world to I can't trust you. You're a liar.

I want to be with you forever to I want a divorce.

It’s not because I want to hurt you.

It’s because my brain can’t hold both love and fear at the same time.

So it picks a side-and runs with it.

But the worst part?

It always comes back around.

And I’m left reeling in the aftermath, wondering how I got there-again

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The Impulse and the Crash:

One of the clearest signs I'm splitting is when I start using words like "always" or "never"

That kind of language is a red flag in my own mouth, showing me I've lost access to the gray.

Every flaw you've ever had is under a microscope. Every mistake you made is suddenly unforgivable.

It's grandiose. It's intense. And I convince myself I'm better than you just to survive the heartbreak of what I feel you've done.

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What Splitting Feels Like (for me)

Splitting feels like Jean Grey turning into the Phoenix-lke there’s this powerful, overwhelming force taking over, and you’re trapped inside it. It’s an internal battle that no one else can see, but it’s violent, consuming, and terrifying. Nothing is scarier or more confusing.

It happens fast-like a light switch. One minute there’s hurt… and the next, it’s hatred. The love you felt just seconds ago turns into fear, panic, or rage. It feels like you’re burning alive from the inside out, and all you want is a way out. You would do anything just to be in control again-to regulate, to make it stop.

And then, just as suddenly, it passes.

There’s this eerie calm that follows. You’re exhausted, emotionally drained, staring at the aftermath of a storm no one else fully understands. And then comes the guilt-overwhelming, aching guilt. The regret hits you like a wave, and you replay everything you said, everything you felt, over and over, wishing more than anything you could take it back.

But you can’t.

The anger turns inward.

The split flips.

And now I'm the one who's all bad.

The guilt floods in. The shame. The self-hate.

I've laid on the floor in a fetal position begging the pain to stop.

I've done things I regret ...attempt at self-harm, suicidal talk, threats of divorce, throwing away people or things I love-just to escape it.

That’s the cycle. And for those of us with BPD, it’s not just emotional-it’s spiritual, physical, mental. It’s real. And it’s not who we are.... it's what we battle

And that's the part no one sees:

I'm not trying to ruin my life... or yours.

I'm trying to survive an emotion that feels like it's crawling underneath my skin.

And no one sees how hard I try to get back to myself.

It breaks my heart that people only see the explosion-but not the cleanup.

Not the aching apology. Not the rebuilding. Not the hours spent sitting with shame, trying to understand what happened.

How much effort it takes to not spiral deeper.

To pause.

To breathe.

To come back and clean up what the pain tried to destroy

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The Physical and Emotional Toll:

When something triggers me, the emotional part of my brain (the amygdala) lights up like a security alarm.

The rational part (the prefrontal cortex) shuts down.

My heart pounds. My thoughts spiral. My vision narrows.

And I stop seeing clearly-I only feel.

I know what I’m saying doesn’t fully make sense.

But at that moment, it’s not about making sense.

It’s about staying alive emotionally.

And when the storm finally passes, I’m left holding the wreckage, praying I didn’t burn everything down with it.

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What Hurts the Most About Having BPD:

Before I was diagnosed at 23, I was just allowed to be angry.

People let me feel my feelings, even if they were messy or loud or uncomfortable.

But now? I'm not "mad." I'm "splitting." I'm "having an episode."

People treat my anger like a symptom instead of a valid emotion.

Like I'm not allowed to just feel it without it being questioned or pathologized.

And that might be the most isolating part of all.

Because sometimes my anger isn't dysfunction-it's my pain finally saying, "Enough"

Yet, when anyone else I know is angry...they're just angry and that's allowed to happen...and they're not mentally ill because of it.... No, they're just human...

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What Helps Me in the Middle of a Split:

Showering – The water grounds me, slows my breathing, resets my nervous system.

Putting my phone down – So I don't say something my soul wouldn't mean if my brain weren't in a storm.

Walking outside – The air and the stillness remind me the world is bigger than this moment.

Writing – Because sometimes I need to bleed my feelings onto paper so they don't stay inside.

Venting to ChatGPT – Honestly? It helps. It's not a human I have to edit for. It never makes me feel like I'm too much or crazy...

And nothing I've said here has ever made the cops show up at my door...so I call that a win.

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If You've Ever Wondered, "What Just Happened?"

This is what happened.

My body thought I was in danger, even if you didn't mean to hurt me.

My fear screamed louder than your actions.

And my trauma took the wheel before I had time to ask what was real.

I'm not asking you to excuse it.

But if you can understand it, even a little... maybe you'll stay long enough to see me come back.

Imagine being suddenly consumed by red-hot rage-not because you want to be angry, but because something inside you snapped. It’s like watching the world through a filter of betrayal and fear.

Everything feels threatening. Every word sounds like an attack. Your heart races, your vision tunnels, and your thoughts scream over each other. Logic disappears.

You’re no longer talking to the person in front of you-you’re reacting to every wound, every fear, every abandonment you’ve ever felt. It’s not just anger. It’s survival. And in that moment, your brain is trying to protect you from something that’s not even happening the way you perceive it. But it feels real. It feels like life or death. Flight or fight.

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Why I'm Sharing This

Because I'm tired of pretending this isn't hard.

Because I want to be known-not just tolerated.

Because I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Because although It's been months since I've personally had a bpd episode, I know some who experience this more frequently....some even daily...

If you live with BPD, I hope this makes you feel a little less crazy. A little less alone.

And if you love someone with BPD, I hope this helps you see the pain underneath the reaction.

We are not broken.

We are not monsters.

We're just trying to survive emotions that hit harder than most people can imagine.

And healing?

It's a slow, sacred fight to stay-when everything in you is telling you to run.

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“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”- Psalm 34:18

Kristen, Unfiltered

Xo 💋