The Buddha and the Borderline

I can't remember how I heard about this book. I think it showed up while searching online for something else. Regardless, I bought it on a whim and put it on my Books-To-Read pile. When I finally picked it up, I was hooked by the first page. In honest, compelling, and remarkably lucid language, Keira Van Gelder tells the story of her evolution from self-proclaimed "mentally ill, suicidal drug addict" to grounded, self-aware, hopeful, connected woman. The book is sometimes fun to read, and sometimes hard. She doesn't pull any punches as she shares candidly about suicide, self-harm, anger, depression, overwhelm, broken relationships and powerlessness. Her experience navigating the mental health system is challenging, and even harrowing, until she finally finds a diagnosis, treatment center, and modality that fit her needs. Most importantly, Keira's story shines a very human light on the possibility for recovery from one of the most feared and stigmatized mental illnesses: borderline personality disorder. 

Here's an excerpt: 
In DBT group Simon explains that emotions serve a purpose. "Despite how horrible they feel or how much trouble they seem to cause, they do important things for us: They communicate. They motivate. They self-validate. They give our lives richness and meaning." As the season turns, I try to find meaning in my intense loneliness without concluding that I'm a pathetic loser. My work at the office remains steady, challenging, exhausting, and occasionally satisfying. My walks to work become my mindfulness practice.

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I try to notice my body state, the thoughts that run through my head, and all the smells and sounds of a Cambridge morning. This year spring appears then retreats like a jack-in-the-box. The daffodils poke their heads out of the soil only to get bombed with snow. As soon as the snow melts, they rise up again, yellow prongs of hope, only to be battered by freezing rain. I never realized how foolishly enduring nature is. Or maybe it's blindly determined? Where does that power of endurance come from?
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On my mini fridge, I put a magnet with a Zen quote: "Barn's burnt down... Now I can see the moon." I'm trying to value the simplicity of this new beginning and hold onto the notion that from destruction comes creation. But what I wonder more and more often is who is creating? For decades I've been a tangle of crossed wires, misdirected impulses, distorted views, exaggerated emotions, facades, and aching, exposed nerves. Even right now, there's the me who wants to kill myself, the me who is ripe for cults and controlling men, the me who sleeps for twelve hours just to recover from a grocery shopping excursion, and a host of other identities I can trace all the way back to Kiki at Camp Good News, desperate for a savior. And now, there's me the receptionist- the lonely and increasingly horny receptionist..."