When I was first diagnosed with BPD, I was scared that I would never recover. No, the illness itself never goes away, but it certainly can be lived with. I accept that I'm borderline, but am very aware that I'm not the embodiment of my illness, just like a person with a broken arm is not their broken arm itself. I'm determined to "make amends" with my inner enemy, and come to some sort of compromise. I remind myself that while BPD is an awful affliction, being able to experience emotions on a higher level also means experiencing joy on a higher level as well, when joy is present.