ISBN: 978-1-84747-188-8
Published: 2007
Pages: 123
Key Themes: borderline personality disorder,
Description
This immensely reflective and emotional book deals with the difficutlties faced by a person suffering from borderline personality disorder. BPD is often thought of as the most severe of the most common mental illneses and is considered by some to be untreateble. This book replaces much of the myths surrounding this illness with col, hard facts and as such is a very important and profound read.
About the Author
Marie Berger was born in May 1945 in Reading, Berkshire. She trained to become a teacher and is also a qualified masseuse. She is now an author by profession and lives with her husband and her children in Lincoln. She is fond of travelling, foreign languages, pastel drawing and of course her writing.
Book Extract
Declaring my sins in another language feels easier. A short break in an attractive town on the French coast provides a brief respite from the overwhelming negativity inside my head.
On impulse I've wandered into a church, found a priest willing to hear my Confession. A modern-minded priest who wears no collar and has dispensed with the traditional confessional box. We sit facing each other across a table.
I reel off a list of offences against a God I'm not even sure I believe in. The priest gives me absolution, asks me about myself, my life. I refer briefly to my unhappy childhood, my rigid, often-harsh religious upbringing, my present emotional problems. He listens sympathetically. Daringly, I say I've only occasionally attended Mass in recent years.
"Which means I'm doomed to Hell when I die, aren't I?" I challenge him. "God loves you, He is not there to punish you." His tone is kindly.
"So that wasn't a mortal sin?" The priest smiles, shakes his head. I stare at him, amazed. I'd expected a sermon on the evil of my ways.
"You're the first priest not to condemn my actions. But I think I've lost my faith, I don't know if there is a God or where to find Him." "He's inside you," the priest answers with conviction. I remind him that he's not given me the usual penance for my sins.
"When you are sitting beside the sea today just say thank you to God," he says gently. What, no Our Fathers, no Hail Marys, no act of retribution for my offences? I thank him profusely. Already I'm feeling better. I walk out into the bright sunshine feeling an inner warmth, an unaccustomed sense of well-being.
