Fear of Abandonment and Borderline Personality Disorder

Fear of Abandonment and Borderline Personality Disorder

My biological mother abandoned me when I was about six months. At least that’s the way the story goes. No one really knows for sure. The doctor who worked at the orphanage where I was dropped off assessed me to be about six months old.  But since I was abandoned with no identifying information it was impossible for anyone to know for sure.

I was left in the garden of an orphanage in Seoul, Korea. I’ve always thought it to be very strange that my birth certificate says that I was born in Inchon but the orphanage was in Seoul. How did I get from Incheon to Seoul? A mystery that will never be solved, I think.

This event set me up a lifetime of fear of abandonment, one of the classic symptoms associated with Borderline Personality Disorder. I think that BPD is founded in learned behavior and so I think I was primed for it from a very early age. My entire life I was always afraid that I would be abandoned by another person someone I cared about and it terrified me. My adoptive parents told me that they wanted a child more than anything in the world and that they spent weeks poring over the photos which had been sent to them of babies from the orphanage where I was. My mom says that when they saw my picture they knew that I was the one they have been searching for. So, that’s the external narrative I grew up with but the voice inside me said something very different. It said, “You may have been wanted by them but your real mother didn’t want you!” So I constructed a fantasy about why she abandoned me. It went like this: She was a married woman who lived in a village who had so many children already so that when I came along she didn’t know what to do. That’s why she got rid of me. I was one too many mouths to feed. Notice that I added a whole bunch of other siblings to the story.

The stark reality of the situation though was that I was a child born to a Korean woman and a Caucasian father so I was a halfling. And in Korea in the late 1950s children of that nature were anathema. It wasn’t until much later that I learned that had I remained in Korea I would have been nothing more than a second-class citizen. I would have been denied education, employment and even marriage because Korean culture places such high value on bloodlines and blood purity.

The second biggest problem for me as a child was in my world there was absolutely no one who looked like me. Yes, my  my adoptive father was Japanese and so he was Asian but Japanese people and Korean people have very different kinds of facial features. In the community where I grew up there were no other Asian children or Asian families, so I lived in a world of cultural isolation. My best friend from my early childhood was a little girl named Sandy who had the most beautiful blonde hair and piercing blue eyes and I wanted nothing more than to look like her.  I came to despise my Asian eyes and straight black hair.

As I grew into my teenage years, I spent a lot of time thinking that I would love nothing more than to do search for my my biological mother but eventually the reality of the situation set in and I became distraught knowing that it was not something that would ever happen. I was abandoned in the garden of an orphanage with no clothes, no name tag and, no identifying information about me, so the chances of being able to trace her were virtually nonexistent. As I began to research that time in Korean history, I came to think that perhaps the story of my abandonment centered around my biological mother being killed in an honor killing by my biological grandfather and that it may have been my biological grandmother who took me to the orphanage and left me there as a way of saving me from his wrath. Why did I think that? Because I am Eurasian and so it was obvious that she  had had some kind of sexual encounter not just with a man outside of marriage but with a Caucasian man. He would have been absolutely furious at the loss of face this caused him. All these factors led me to realize that I felt profound despair because of the circumstances surrounding my early life, my abandonment was actually the best thing that could have happened to me.

Still, that the initial abandonment set up a lifetime of anxiety for me. As I grew up into a teenager I became very angry and belligerent and adopted my policy of a basically “get them before they get me” or “the best defense is a good offense” I had a chip on my shoulder the size of the Rock of Gibraltar.  and it was impossible for anybody to really get close to me.

I drifted from one boyfriend to the next never achieving any kind of real emotional intimacy with any of them. Eventually I married my husband. I chose him because I knew he would never leave me. Until he finally did.

Fear of abandonment for people with BPD is a terrible double-edged sword because it is the one thing that terrifies us and drives us yet it is the one thing that we often force the people in our lives to do because of our raging anger.


About the Author: Dee Chan

Dee Chan was diagnosed with BPD more than 35 years ago back when the diagnosis was still fairly new and not very well understood. She has been living with it and coping with it ever since and finding ways to thrive despite it. She has been able to put it into complete remission and turned her life around completely through the practices of gratitude, forgiveness and accountability. Find out more about Dee’s work on her website bpdnomore.com.

3 Comments

Pat

Our youngest son was 2 yrs old when I was in an accident & hospitalized for 5 mos, returning in a wheelchair & finally a cane & a limp until 5 yrs later when I had knee replacement.
I have always wondered why Jeff had so much anger. He flared up at the least thing as a child. He was rude & ugly at times to me. He is much better now as a 40 yr old, but still can be roused to shouting & cannot tolerate confrontation. He has never married & has problems with long term friendships. He works in sales & is successful now but went through many jobs earlier in life. Could his anger relate to feeling abandoned at an early age? I have always wondered why he was angry & he could never explain why.

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Deni

I live with a family member who exhibits BPD—sometimes slight, sometimes extreme depending on her current romantic relationship. We have felt so alone in this situation, but reading about personal experiences of triumph is very encouraging. Despite my questions about the cause of BPD, I have never heard anyone comment that it may be “founded in learned behavior.” Thank you for giving this challenge a face and hopefulness!

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Amy

How about more on adopted children in the US? I was adopted. My father loves me and my mother loathed me. She still does. I gave the fact that without my father in my life (he passed), I might not have a family anymore. My mother treats me as if I do not belong. I do t see my brothers too much unless I push to bring my kids to their house, etc…. it is a lonely place and I try to rationalize it away by telling myself that I could have been an abortion….. in which case, I would not be here. I would like to know if other adoptees feel this same way or if it is simply my relationship with my mother that causes my unrest

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Anxiety is driven by a lack of certainty about safety. It doesn’t mean they aren’t safe, and it certainly doesn’t mean they aren’t capable. It means they don’t feel safe enough - yet. 

The question isn’t, ‘How do we fix them?’ They aren’t broken. 

It’s, ‘How do we fix what’s happening around them to help them feel so they can feel safe enough to be brave enough?’

How can we make the environment feel safer? Sensory accommodations? Relational safety?

Or if the environment is as safe as we can make it, how can we show them that we believe so much in their safety and their capability, that they can rest in that certainty? 

They can feel anxious, and do brave. 

We want them to listen to their anxiety, check things out, but don’t always let their anxiety take the lead.

Sometimes it’s spot on. And sometimes it isn’t. Whole living is about being able to tell the difference. 

As long as they are safe, let them know you believe them, and that you believe IN them. ‘I know this feels big and I know you can handle this. We’ll do this together.’♥️
Research has shown us, without a doubt, that a sense of belonging is one of the most important contributors to wellbeing and success at school. 

Yet for too many children, that sense of belonging is dependent on success and wellbeing. The belonging has to come first, then the rest will follow.

Rather than, ‘What’s wrong with them?’, how might things be different for so many kids if we shift to, ‘What needs to happen to let them know we want them here?’❤️
There is a quiet strength in making space for the duality of being human. It's how we honour the vastness of who we are, and expand who we can be. 

So much of our stuckness, and our children's stuckness, comes from needing to silence the parts of us that don't fit with who we 'should' be. Or from believing that the thought or feeling showing up the loudest is the only truth. 

We believe their anxiety, because their brave is softer - there, but softer.
We believe our 'not enoughness', because our 'everything to everyone all the time' has been stretched to threadbare for a while.
We feel scared so we lose faith in our strength.

One of our loving roles as parents is to show our children how to make space for their own contradictions, not to fight them, or believe the thought or feeling that is showing up the biggest. Honour that thought or feeling, and make space for the 'and'.

Because we can be strong and fragile all at once.
Certain and undone.
Anxious and brave.
Tender and fierce.
Joyful and lonely.
We can love who we are and miss who we were.

When we make space for 'Yes, and ...' we gently hold our contradictions in one hand, and let go of the need to fight them. This is how we make loving space for wholeness, in us and in our children. 

We validate what is real while making space for what is possible.
All feelings are important. What’s also important is the story - the ‘why’ - we put to those feelings. 

When our children are distressed, anxious, in fight or flight, we’ll feel it. We’re meant to. It’s one of the ways we keep them safe. Our brains tell us they’re in danger and our bodies organise to fight for them or flee with them.

When there is an actual threat, this is a perfect response. But when the anxiety is in response to something important, brave, new, hard, that instinct to fight for them or flee with them might not be so helpful.

When you can, take a moment to be clear about the ‘why’. Are they in danger or

Ask, ‘Do I feel like this because they’re in danger, or because they’re doing something hard, brave, new, important?’ 

‘Is this a time for me to keep them safe (fight for them or flee with them) or is this a time for me to help them be brave?’

‘What am I protecting them from -  danger or an opportunity to show them they can do hard things?’

Then make space for ‘and’, ‘I want to protect them AND they are safe.’

‘I want to protect them from anxiety AND anxiety is unavoidable - I can take care of them through it.’

‘This is so hard AND they can do hard things. So can I.’

Sometimes you’ll need to protect them, and sometimes you need to show them how much you believe in them. Anxiety can make it hard to tell the difference, which is why they need us.♥️
The only way through anxiety is straight through the middle. This is because the part of the brain responsible for anxiety - the amygdala - is one of the most primitive parts of the brain, and it only learns through experience.

The goal is for kids to recognise that they can feel anxious and do brave. They don't have to wait for their anxiety to disappear, and they don't need to disappear themselves, or avoid the things that matter to them, in order to feel safe. 

There is always going to be anxiety. Think about the last time you did something brave, or hard, or new, or something that was important to you. How did you feel just before it? Maybe stressed? Nervous? Terrified? Overwhelmed? All of these are different words for the experience of anxiety. Most likely you didn't avoid those things. Most likely, you moved with the anxiety towards those brave, hard, things.

This is what courage feels like. It feels trembly, and uncertain, and small. Courage isn't about outcome. It's about process. It's about handling the discomfort of anxiety enough as we move towards the wanted thing. It's about moving our feet forward while everything inside is trembling. 

To support them through anxiety, Honour the feeling, and make space for the brave. 'I know how big this is for you, and I know you can do this. I'm here for you. We'll do this together.' 

We want our kiddos to know that anxiety doesn't mean there is something wrong with them, or that something bad is about to happen - even though it will feel that way. 

Most often, anxiety is a sign that they are about to do something brave or important. With the amygdala being the ancient little pony that it is, it won't hear us when we tell our kiddos that they can do hard things. We need to show them. 

The 'showing' doesn't have to happen all at once. We can do it little by little - like getting into cold water, one little step at a time, until the amygdala feels safe. 

It doesn't matter how long this takes, or how small the steps are. What matters is that they feel supported and cared for as they take the steps, and that the steps are forward.❤️

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