Let’s Talk About It: Choosing Me – Living with BPD, Trauma & Self-Acceptance

Let’s Talk About It: Choosing Me – Living with BPD, Trauma & Self-Acceptance

By Tyler | Evolve Supply Co.

There was a time I couldn’t look in the mirror without hating what was reflected back to me. Not just because of how I looked—but because of what I saw staring back: Someone I didn’t understand. Someone I didn’t even like. A stranger in my own skin. I’ve spent so much of my life battling what lived inside of me—these overwhelming emotions that came like tidal waves, these moments of joy that quickly collapsed into fear, guilt, and shame. I’ve felt like I was too much and not enough all at once. I’ve hurt people I love while trying to protect myself. I’ve hated myself for how deeply I feel, how easily I break, and how loud my silence gets when I shut down.

I used to think there was something wrong with me. That I was broken. That I would never be lovable the way I am.

Living with Borderline Personality Disorder is like constantly running from a fire that never burns out. Add in trauma, suppressed identity, and years of feeling unseen—and it’s a recipe for self-destruction. And believe me, I’ve been there. But this blog isn’t just about pain. It’s about choosing myself—finally.

It’s about accepting the truth of who I am; A gay man. A soul in recovery. Someone who lives with BPD, trauma, and scars that don’t always show. And someone who is still worthy of love. Especially from myself.

If you’ve ever felt like you were too complicated to be understood… too sensitive to be loved… too broken to heal—this is for you. Because this is the story of how I stopped abandoning myself. And how I started choosing me.

What It Feels Like to Live with BPD

Let me be honest: BPD is not just “mood swings” or being “too emotional.” It’s waking up every day unsure of who I am. It’s feeling like my entire identity is built on quicksand—one wrong look, one misinterpreted text, and I crumble.

It’s being both too much and not enough—at the exact same time. Someone that I am ashamed of and resent, yet I'm learning to love myself slowly by showing myself the same compassion I do to others.

There are days when I feel invincible. Productive. Radiant. Full of ideas and hope. But even on those days, there’s this undercurrent of dread. Because I know the crash is coming. The smallest change in tone, the tiniest bit of distance from someone I care about—it spirals me. Suddenly I feel unloved, unwanted, unsafe. My chest starts pounding and I can't breathe.

That’s when the splitting begins. My thoughts go from “everything’s okay” to “everything is ruined” in seconds. There’s no warning. No buffer. Just panic. Guilt. Rage. Shame. And the overwhelming fear that I’ll be abandoned for being too much.

But the worst part isn’t just the split. It’s what happens after: the guilt. The self-hatred. The hours I spend picking apart every word, every look, replaying scenes in my mind like a movie I can’t turn off—asking myself over and over again, “What’s wrong with me?”

I Am Not Just My Diagnosis

For the last two and a half years, I believed I was broken beyond repair. I saw my BPD as a curse, my trauma as weakness, and being gay as something to hide. I was so busy trying to be lovable that I never found sight of who I actually was.

I tried to minimize my feelings, to numb myself out just to function. I tried to make myself smaller, quieter, more “normal.” I tried to be someone else entirely—someone who didn’t feel everything so damn deeply. Someone who convinced himself people were better off without me.

But here’s what I’ve learned: I am not my symptoms. I am not a diagnosis or a stereotype or a checklist of behaviours. I am not defined by my worst days or by how others perceive me when I’m overwhelmed. I'm not defined by my mistakes.

I am a whole human being with layers. I am strength and softness. I am vulnerability and courage. I am a gay man who has fought battles that most will never see—and I’m still here.

My mental health struggles are part of my story, but they’re not the only story.

 

The Turning Point: Choosing Me

I spent a long time begging others to love me. To prove that I was worth staying for. But that only left me more broken, more exhausted, and more lost. Because no amount of external validation could ever fix what I hadn’t given myself: permission to exist as I am and to give myself the care and love that I give to others.

It took hitting rock bottom for me to realize something vital: I was waiting for love I wasn’t even giving myself.

So I started small. I wrote down the things I liked about myself—even if they felt silly or untrue at first. I did therapy and allowed myself to feel. I set boundaries with people. I started surrounding myself with people who saw past the chaos and recognized the heart underneath. I stopped hiding who I was—from the world, and from myself.

I began choosing me. Not just on the good days, but on the hard ones too. The days I cry. The days I split. The days I feel like I’m falling apart—I still choose me. Not because it’s easy, but because I deserve it. I deserve to not be given up on especially from myself.

I’ve stopped running from my reflection. I’ve stopped trying to “fix” myself.
Now, I honour myself. I give myself that extreme love I have in me to give someone else, and want so desperately, and turning it inward onto myself.

You Deserve to Choose You Too

If you’re reading this and you feel seen—please know, you are not alone.

Maybe you’re living with BPD. Maybe you’re carrying trauma, or wrestling with your identity. Maybe you’ve been made to feel “too much,” or like you have to be someone else to be accepted. If that’s you—I get it.

But let me say this clearly: You are enough.
Exactly as you are.
You deserve rest. You deserve peace.
You deserve real, unconditional love—especially from yourself.

Choosing yourself doesn’t mean you have to have it all figured out. It just means you’re willing to show up for you. To stop abandoning yourself when things get hard. To stop hiding your truth. To love yourself unconditionally. The beautiful and the ugly parts.

At Evolve Supply Co., this message is everything. Every hoodie, every bracelet, every hand-pressed mug we make is a reminder that your mental health matters. Your story matters. You matter.

And with every purchase, 20% of profits go directly to helping others access therapy through our partnership with Rise Above the Disorder, because we believe healing should never be a privilege—it should be a right.

Final Thoughts: There’s Power in the Becoming

I still have bad days. I still get triggered. I still catch myself spiralling into self-doubt and shame. But I also catch myself being kind. Being brave. Being real. Being compassionate.

I cry, and then I get back up. I split, and then I soothe myself. I fall apart, and then I stitch myself back together—with softness instead of shame.

Every time I choose to love myself, I heal a little more. Every time I accept all the parts I used to hide—my BPD, my queerness, my trauma, my messiness—I reclaim a little more of my power.

I am not here to be anyone else’s version of perfect.
I am here to be me—bright, bold, colourful, and completely enough.
And I finally believe that I am worthy of the kind of love I used to beg for.

So here I am—choosing myself again today.
And I hope you’ll choose you, too.

xo

Tyler