There is a youngish (mid-50s) resident at the assisted living facility where I work who is dx'd with borderline personality disorder, and I've never felt sorrier for a human being in all my life. This dude has NOBODY. No family, no friends, no one who gives a crap whether he lives or dies. Granted, a lot of his miseries stem from the fact that he is a miserable human being, but damn, it's not really his fault.

There is not a psych hospital in this entire state that will admit him, not even if he's in crisis. I know, I've tried to get him in multiple times. They always say "we don't EVER admit borderlines, it's not worth it to do inpatient because they just get worse". So what is the poor SOB supposed to do when he wakes up every morning and he knows there is absolutely nothing to look forward to, so why not cut, or burn himself, or drink too much, or refuse his meds?

By contrast, I've got it made, even with bipolar. I've got people falling over each other helping me get better, unlimited mental health visits with my current insurance, access to the meds I need.......yes, there is still a stigma, but like I've done with other challenges, I've made myself something of a poster child for the condition. IOW, once I've gotten over the initial shock of diagnosis, I'll not only admit I have a problem, I'll talk about it and refuse to be shamed by it. It feels good when someone says "I'd never have guessed you were an alcoholic" or "You're bipolar? But you're so calm and cool........" (yeah, and that's because I use up every ounce of energy and self-control I have just to get through a typical workday, and sometimes I don't make it).

But the poor devil with BPD at my facility, he gets a few meds and a weekly therapy session---he doesn't even have a psychiatrist---and ambles around the building, unable to connect with the other residents, almost all of whom are old enough to be his parents. It's sad. Makes me actually grateful to ONLY have bipolar d/o.