Surviving Loss and Rediscovering Myself: My Journey with BPD

I have lost so much.

I found myself in this situation when my mental health had been severely damaged—when my long-term relationship failed. I had four failed pregnancies and zero support from my partner. Three years into the relationship, I sought help from a therapist and a couples’ counselor. When I lost my third pregnancy, my ex and I were driving to a counseling session when he told me not to bring it up. He said it was my personal issue, and I needed to talk to my therapist about it. That moment solidified what I already felt—his lack of support was what made our relationship fail. I had overlooked the financial and emotional abuse. Now, three years post-breakup, I see things clearly, and I’m shocked at how blind I was.

My ex and I moved to New Zealand after a year of dating. I was working as a flight attendant, making okay money. He was an electrician, always able to find work. I admired his work ethic and helped him wherever I could, even though he didn’t need my help. He made me feel like my contributions were important.

My first experience with financial abuse started when we moved to New Zealand. One afternoon, we had a fight when I found out he had been watching and exchanging adult content with his mates. I left to cool off and have personal space. I went to the shops and started adding groceries to the cart, but when I went to pay, my card declined. That was the first time I realized I was alone in a foreign country with nothing as a backup. I broke down in tears over the betrayal.

He apologized and promised never to do it again.

Before him, I was brave, confident, and wild-spirited. I had left my hometown to start a new life and make something of myself. In 2018, I moved to Darwin to live with my cousin and her now-husband. She had been part of my life since I was 13. Our relationship was complicated—part friendship, part rivalry. She often put me down, questioning my choices. If I wanted to study, she would ask if it was a credible institution or if I had enough money to commit. I valued her input because she made me think critically. Our friendship ended when I accepted a job in New Zealand; she didn’t believe I could do it.

I met my ex on Tinder, and our connection grew rapidly. Nine months in, we moved to Canberra for my work. After three months, I was offered a job in New Zealand. It was an exciting opportunity, so we took it. I worked tirelessly (morning shift 7am-3pm, afternoon shift 3pm-11pm, and the night audit 11pm-7am)—while also arranging our accommodation in NZ. My ex had casual work, but my work at the hotel kept us comfortable. I had significant savings when we moved, and in 2019, once I started my airline job, I was financially secure. I tied up loose ends and committed to a future in New Zealand.

After my training, I had issues with my work ID and was “grounded” for weeks. My manager approved four days of leave, and my ex booked a holiday to celebrate my new job and his birthday. After the holiday, we bought a car. We lived in shared accommodation in Mangere for 2020, even during COVID, then moved to Epsom. After almost two years there, we relocated to a wealthier area, Saint Heliers. But I never felt comfortable. Some of our neighbors were not welcoming to people of color. Cracks in our relationship deepened. I felt unsupported. He would push back against our unfriendly neighbors, even when I asked him not to retaliate.

We started missing Australia, our families. We talked about raising children back home. After 13 months of not flying, I returned to work, but I wasn’t happy. The job I once loved felt different. People had experienced loss; flying wasn’t the same. My colleagues weren’t the same either. I reported unsafe practices to management, but nothing changed. I decided to give up flying.

I took a hospital job, I ended that job as the expectations were too demanding. I was expected to progress in my role faster than I was ready. I worked retail, but the manager was sneaky, adding shifts without my consent and cutting my commissions. I quit and started my own small business. During COVID, I picked up digital art again, collaborating with my sister to sell my work. That idea fizzled when she pursued another career.

When my youngest nephew was born in 2022, and I felt a deep yearning for home—like my country was calling me back. My ex and I talked about moving back, but his work kept him in New Zealand. My ex couldn’t take time off work, so in 2023, I returned to Australia alone, a short stay, staying with my sisters and seeking professional help for my mental health and getting on the right medication. 

For my birthday, I asked my sisters for one gift: to bring my partner to Australia. I was able to share my birthday with the people I love. My ex and I spent time together, discussing our future. My relationship with my ex crumbled further because he felt abandoned. The distance took its toll. He accused me of cheating. His controlling behavior became more obvious to my friends. I fought for our life together—I wanted to hold on to our routine and safety. More importantly, I refused to give up the life I built for myself. 

Then I found out I was nine weeks pregnant. The same day, my ex emptied our joint account. When I went to buy coffee, my card declined. I checked my bank: 15 cents. Five years with him ended that moment after thousands of dollars vanished. Our house deposit, all our savings.

I spiraled into self-destruction. I distanced myself from everyone—my sisters, my best friend, my mum. I purposely broke decade-long friendships, disappointed my family, and convinced myself of delusions. Suicidal thoughts overwhelmed me. They became too powerful. I attempted to end it all.

That was over a year ago.

Now, I’m not sad. I don’t regret anything. It’s history. I’ve come to terms with the fact that versions of me live in other people’s realities. I write this now—half healed, half forgiven.

When people in recovery begin their healing journey, one of the first steps is believing in a higher power and surrendering—to practice humility and acknowledge shortcomings. To discover purpose. To learn what plan their higher power has for their life.

I have forgiven myself and seek redemption in Christ. I’ve leaned into Jesus because He is the only one who can truly heal me. My doctors can treat my symptoms, my therapist can give me coping tools, but I can only control what’s in my circle of control. I have given my grief and pain to Jesus, surrendered my destructive behaviors to Him. The Bible says I am made new in Christ.

I am still learning. But I know this: I am no longer lost.

My story