“Borderline: (adjective) only just acceptable in quality or as belonging to a category … (noun) a boundary separating two countries or areas.” —The New Oxford Dictionary of English
“I know you don’t mean to be that way, Gustavo, but you tend to have the kind of … of a very different personality that can cause others to dislike you, to reject you, or even get very angry at you; and I fear that someone might at some point in the future even physically assault you—perhaps going as far as killing you. I really don’t mean to upset you by saying all of that, but sometimes I really worry for you.”
On more than a few occasions Gustavo’s mother, with his father (and once even his sister) sitting nearby intently listening with equal concern, cautioned the boy of such potential social problems in his future. When she would talk to him about this reality it was never out of any argument induced frustration or insult since she felt only love and genuine concern for the seven-year-old. Although it might bring them but minimal comfort, if any at all actually, his parents frequently reminded themselves that he wasn’t in the least intentionally behaving in an antisocial manner. As an otherwise nice young boy, why would he willfully choose such a socially ostracized existence? they’d often rhetorically ask themselves. And one particularly so as a child with a Hispanic heritage that’s greatly outnumbered by the other cultures around him?
When at age ten he lost his father in a motor vehicle collision, Gustavo, perhaps to compensate for the enormous loss, became all the more emotionally bound to his mother and six-year-old sister. But that extra bond would cause him to suffer extra anguish upon bearing the additional devastating loss of his sister. Precisely on his seventeenth birthday as she and he were joking and eating pizza, he and his mother on very short notice discovered in stunned silence that the girl had in fact been mortally stricken with Stage 4 malignant cancer. Without any foretelling symptoms she collapsed unconscious on his bedroom floor, then fell into a coma upon arrival at the hospital. He and his mother were further utterly shocked to hear an hour later that, even as rare as were such cases as hers in which indicators of the illness go unnoticed until death is imminent, MRI scans had revealed that too many of her abdominal organs were already shutting down or very close to doing so as the final result of the rampantly metastasizing disease. In addition to their already great loss, Gustavo and his mother were devastated again by also being denied even just a conscious moment with her to say a brief goodbye. Nevertheless, they remained by her bedside as she lay comatose while on life support until she succumbed, one day short of eleven weeks after initially collapsing at home.
After a year of psychiatric hospitalization and every form of treatment available to her, including electro-convulsive therapy, Gustavo’s chronically depressed mother took her own life. He then himself briefly followed in her severely distraught path for the following six months, during which not only did he fare well by his regimen of antidepressant medication but he was also diagnosed as having Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).
The very day he was discharged from hospital, the painful memory of his sister and her death came to mind, though it was immediately followed by the words received by Harry Potter from his school headmaster Albus Dumbledore, at the end of the long story when both meet as spirits within some pure-white realm. “Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”
This quote made Gustavo consider something even further along the existential lines, before he began talking to his well-medicated roommate lying in the next bed over. “ … Anyways, I told my doctor that, yes, I believed her assurances that I should’ve died at least four dozen times over. But what still sincerely bothers me is that I genuinely don’t know whether to credit all of those very-low-odds survivals to the divine or the devil.” A moment of silence passed before he could hear his roommate begin slowly snoring, perhaps a ‘response’ close enough to what one of his apathetic high school peers would’ve offered, as though such nearly successful however inadvertent overdoses nowadays were common enough to rank them as not meriting much more concern than getting very ill from too much alcohol after some big party.
After permanently leaving the psychiatric ward, Gustavo, with his newly-discovered lifelong BPD condition in mind, reconsidered his recollectable past through the lens of someone with a recognized personality disorder. Gustavo’s retrospective analysis clearly revealed that beginning as early as age six, he never understood why so many of his school peers had avoided his company while some even openly expressed to Gustavo’s face their dislike for him. Such matters only worsened when he entered junior high school, which exacerbated his already hatched agitative tendencies to a point of unpredictable inappropriate anger, though particularly so on those rare occasions when he’d be left licking his wounds after a physical assault.
Not to be mistaken, Gustavo did have a lighter side, indeed one that craved to joke around, although virtually nobody in his auditory proximity would laugh at his unconventional humour; some people were even left embarrassed judging by their deafening silence—all of which resulted in a self-perpetuating non-sociable effect upon Gustavo, in fact making him even more withdrawn. Sometimes he’d even make abnormally awkward comments or similarly vocalize sarcastic and cynical remarks; however, he didn’t realize his lacking social skills until it was too late to perform adequate ‘damage control’ between himself and his peers. If Gustavo dared to socialize by way of talking and/or joking at some gathering, it would often turn out that others felt he should’ve kept quiet; but when he did keep to himself, that was no good either, for he’d be deemed ‘a bore’. It truly was a bitter no-win scenario for him.
As the following few years passed, it became painfully clear to Gustavo that as a young adult with a personality disorder (“Borderline” or not) his problematic dealings with potentially regular clients had pretty much eliminated any chance he ever had of, as planned, becoming a professional portrait painter, maybe even with his own studio. However, as matters stood he couldn’t even manage to sufficiently socially function with potential buyers in order to steadily sell his own oil painting creations, works that others in the portrait painter community assured him should in any event be regularly sellable fine fruits of his labour. Indeed it was due to his personality’s friction-prone nature with potential employers as well as people at social functions, Gustavo found himself without any practical option other than to seek whatever freelance work he could manage to acquire (usually by saying as little as possible to whomever he should avoid inadvertently offending). Of course typical freelance work wouldn’t pay him as well as would most consistent weekly-hours jobs, which usually also offered medical and other benefits, if he only had it within him to be a work-environment ‘team-player’ and thus capable of maintaining a functional-employee status.
Gustavo, still being in his early adult years, also curiously delved into metaphysical theory and teachings. There, he eventually found himself believing that his personality disorder’s negative, angry condition and therefore the resultant thoughts themselves were essentially polluting to some degree the socially functional positive thoughts and emotions of many people around him. He enthusiastically searched the Internet for metaphysical literature containing relevant experiment findings that demonstrated how a very sensitive meter could measure fluctuations in even the weakest electromagnetic field (EMF) emanating from any kind of life form. But far more significant, however, was the revelation that when a test-subject was in some manner and extent distressed, his or her EMF was also disrupted and thereby proportionally disturbed the EMFs of test-subject non-human life forms (both animal and plant, etcetera) within his or her vicinity. Not long afterwards it was also ‘revealed’ via metaphysical research that all life forms—though above all, human beings—are interlinked by way of their EMFs of varying intensities. Henceforth he found himself considerably concerned over what he truly believed amounted to “the EMF poison transmitted by my disordered personality”.
Only a few months later Gustavo yet again notably bucked the social norm by finding he could no longer take praise, not at face value, not at all; instead he’d greatly downplay if not outright negate any complimented achievement of his. The many people offering him the praise that he would basically reject were left feeling insulted, attributing such strange responsive behaviour to inconsideration if not downright rudeness on his part. In fact, the people complimenting him felt that by rejecting their praise he was by extension questioning their judgment of what constituted a job well done; either that or, worse, doubting their sincerity.
For example, when told how much weight he appeared to have recently lost, he was left frustrated by his conviction that, notwithstanding some loss of facial mass, it was only a fallacy created by a two-dimensional-like concealment of his true undesirable shape coupled with a somewhat diversionary effect caused by just the right clothing style, contour and colour. Indeed he felt so abnormally strong about it that he’d sometimes quote author Mark Twain’s insightful humor: “Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” Gustavo always kept that small piece of humour in mind, as he felt like a half-naked fraud whenever looking into his mirror wearing only his briefs, but the joke hit too painfully close to home for him to ever appreciatively chuckle. He knew that whenever he dressed just so in quantity and quality, aspects of his physique he found embarrassing from the testimony of his bathroom’s large looking-glass were deceptively concealed.
Also in retrospect Gustavo realized that over the years there were numerous misunderstandings over statements he’d made as well as his demeanor which resulted in some other people’s frustration and even agitation towards him. Thus with time those many misunderstandings became others’ unflattering misconceptions about him, all of which caused him a sizable dose of haunting shame. He considered the permanent social damage to be, as he phrased it with feelings of regret rather than any humour, “All bridge under the water”.
It was only a few months later that while using the library’s computer room he clashed with a man who had an obvious personality disorder which didn’t mix well at all with Gustavo’s own formidable aggressive tendencies—in fact it was an incident he’d decided at that time to not share with his psychiatrist. But before the conflict would occur that afternoon his pharmacist with whom he was quite familiar queried him for the first time, with a concerned curiosity, “Why are you always so angry, Gustavo? Really—why so angry?” Uncertain as to how to respond to such an unusual question put to him, Gustavo simply forced out a small grin and shrugged.
About a month after the library altercation that came so close to actual blows, it became clear to Gustavo that he had to have his Borderline Personality Disorder curse in its entirety—the problematic negativity and fluctuating aggressiveness—forced out of his mind and life to the maximum possible extent, if not somehow in totality. However, he’d soon learn that to achieve such a feat there would have to be a determined permanence on his part and one that would be his great act in the best interests of those functional thinkers around him (as well, of course, as his own peace of mind).
During his next appointment with his psychiatrist she suggested to Gustavo that what he likely had in mind was an invasive procedure called a post-hypnotic suggestion (PHS), which she generally supported though with the stipulation that he undergo the standard eight-month pre-hypnosis preparation.
During the actual procedure itself, which for him would be drug induced since he was clearly too tense to be mesmerized solely through verbal means, he’d receive a PHS that would command his subconscious mind to essentially void his otherwise entrenched disordered personality traits. Her warning to Gustavo, however, included the possible risks involved, most notable being that the greater access to the subconscious mind during hypnosis occasionally enables often-traumatic repressed emotions or memories to be brought to the fore. Yet all he could think about at that point was being truly free of the great flaws resultant from his disordered personality, especially those responsible for his seemingly irrepressible negative thoughts and anger fluctuations.
It was immediately then that the Star Trek: The Next Generation character (Mr.) Lt. Commander Data came to Gustavo’s mind—Mr. Data being a no emotions thus facially expressionless artificial intelligence android who’s programmed to perform a very large number of constructive functions while protecting all human life. But the A.I. Mr. Data does take on the rare though no less embarrassingly contradictory emotion when it suits an episode storyline’s required elements. Upon second thought, however, Gustavo considered whether he might even more so prefer coming out of his hypnotic state as a mind-at-total-peace Buddhist monk. But then Gustavo recalled how the Buddha had lately made his ‘questionable ethics list’ upon recently learning that the Buddha, the very symbol for the super-vegan faith, allowed followers of Buddhism to eat meat albeit with the specification that they not do the actual slaughtering.
Or maybe even better yet, he excitedly thought, I might come out like Mr. Spock. Mr. Spock being renowned for his Vulcan confidence though especially his calmly logical state of mind, Gustavo could picture himself advising his typically emotional human peers: “Really, guys, you must learn to govern your emotions. They will be your undoing.”
“I don’t care,” he told his psychiatrist, “I just want to do it.” He had already irreversibly resolved to have all of his BPD negativity and aggressiveness totally removed from his mind without any even mildly cynical thought-exception, so as he’d not ever again end up distressing any part of the lives of decent people who were probably already dealing or struggling with their own turmoil. “I believe that I’m a small portion of a significant flaw in humankind’s messed-up nature,” he continued. “That’s why I’m going to do my very best to cease and desist that terrible aspect of my personality (short of any self-destructive means, of course).”
Gustavo wasn’t even deterred by his psychiatrist’s forewarning assertion that although the PHS would all but with one hundred percent certainty neutralize the burdensome antisocial mentality aspects of his character, “Your mind, unfortunately, will just as likely not automatically replace that mental disarray with positive, happy notions and good feelings—which is what I believe you’re expecting by means of flawed deduction reasoning as the primary side effect of the post-hypnotic suggestion. In fact, the relatively few functional and positive thoughts and emotions that you currently do experience will gradually dissipate—they will go away—though I cannot say with any useful accuracy when and at what rate that dissipation will take place.”
After eight months of psychiatric preparation consisting mostly of in-depth counselling sessions Gustavo was deemed ready for his post-hypnotic suggestion, which was scheduled for just over two weeks hence. He was again forewarned that if all went accordingly the PHS would leave him in a psychological state comparable to that of potent relaxant sedation. “Furthermore, I must again emphasize that the suggestion placed into your mind will leave you, in a manner of speaking, self-disallowed from further hostile thoughts, emotions and aggressive physical intentions on your part, even if you’re being brazenly provoked by another’s man’s assault on you; it will be quite the figurative declawing of the cat, which is why it’s of the utmost concern for us amongst a few other lesser concerns.”
Gustavo was nevertheless adamant: “I want to go ahead with it anyway. I truly feel that the benefits can only outweigh any negatives.” He was then handed a pen to sign the consent form written up in legalese specifically for his unconventional hypnosis treatment, relinquishing all rights to any potential future civil legal action should anything go seriously wrong.
Yet, it was exactly a week before the PHS was to take place that Gustavo—already in a bad mood over learning of a large rent increase that he could ill afford—lost his temper with his psychiatrist when she had once again made reference to his personality disorder as being Borderline, the official diagnosis designation she’d thought he had already fully accepted since receiving the formal Borderline Personality Disorder some four years prior. When he had sufficiently calmed himself to fully absorb all of her words, she explained in finer detail than ever before the purpose of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) including the term Borderline to describe his form of personality disorder, with which he appeared mostly contented. Basically, the BPD sufferer lives with his or her symptoms “more under the radar” thus just barely concealed from the majority-functional people around them.
Both doctor and patient went silent momentarily before Gustavo stated that he still felt the DSM’s Borderline aspect of his personality disorder remained somewhat misleading. He then deeply inhaled before exhaling with a sigh as he sarcastically note the incident in which he had dysfunctionally conflicted with another man of a difficult demeanor—“perhaps even another recipient of the ‘Borderline’ personality disorder—at a most public location. “It was a borderline physical altercation, I guess one might call it, though it really seemed like matters just barely missed seriously spiraling out of physical control—something I’ve not had to deal with since high school. To me, that’s quite unnerving!”
Then in an incredulous tone of voice, Gustavo strongly implied that he, upon second thought, still required another, broader response. “That quarrel by itself is a very good reason why I have trouble buying the DSM line that I have some borderline personality disorder. After all, it’s actually a noticeable disorder of my personality, or at least that’s what I’ve been both implicitly and explicitly told throughout my life; apparently it’s one that has openly crossed over the borderline and into the realm of a real personality disorder. Why not have just told me something along the lines of, ‘It’s not quite yet a serious anti-social character dysfunction that’s potentially criminal in nature, therefore we’ll cross that bridge when your personality gets there.
At that point it can be reconsidered and relabeled as an actual personality disorder’? Why not just say something more meaningful like that?” he continued to vent. “Maybe the mental health profession should just collectively flat-out say to diagnosed BPDs like me, ‘As unflattering as it may sound, you do have a problem with your personality; you can even refer to it as a personality disorder, if you so desire, though some people may even go as far as saying yours is a lousy personality. Okay now, Gustavo, having dealt with that semantical unpleasantry, let’s talk treatment for your personality, which is border-lining along the disordered sort’.”
Clearly, the way he plainly saw it, if it’s notably burdensome to its bearer, it’s worthy of a diagnosis title that straightly refers to an actual clinical mental condition—not something that by its name says that the threshold or borderline separating the actual disorder from the bordering-disorder has not yet been at all crossed.
Having reached his zenith in accumulated frustration, Gustavo, in finality, blurted out that, “adding ‘Borderline’ to the ‘Personality Disorder’ is perhaps patronizingly comforting to some sufferers; otherwise sufferers such as myself will simply disregard the DSM and refer to themselves as having a personality disorder, plain and simple! …
And since we’re on the subject of platitudinous semantics, doctor, do you have any idea as to what the attempt at a cleverly alliterated prize title Courage to Come Back Award is exactly supposed to mean—or, maybe in this case, not mean? Is it perhaps inadvertently inferring to the rest of us mentally ill folk who don’t have quite enough courage yet to accomplish this great feat? Or could it have been titled that way, without sufficient consideration of other consumers, for the sake of catchy alliteration?!”
Following the hypnosis session Gustavo spent hours walking around town each and every day, sometimes even frequenting the same streets a dozen times during the same day, with many of the streets being completely unfamiliar to him, all as though he was exceptionally restless. He was asked by his psychiatrist as to the general nature of his thoughts and emotions since his PHS-session implantation, and, with his face for the first time totally void of any expression whatsoever, he replied: “I guess typical unimportant things, like did my telephone bill payment pass through okay, as it’s always done. Stuff pretty routine like that. But what I’ve got now that I didn’t have before is an absence of bad ideas and feelings—really, an amazing freedom from anger, even with the false sense of a little drugged stupor that goes with it.”
But as Gustavo would’ve said pre-PHS, “Nothing good ever lasts.”
It was not even two months later that he was mortally assaulted by three young men awaiting a ride at the Metro bus exchange who he had recognized as old friends from high school, although they didn’t in turn recognize him at all. Due to their chemically induced incapacitated mental state Gustavo’s expressionless gaze at them, they’d later testify on their own behalf in criminal court, “threw us for a loop because at first he didn’t even say anything to us.” As anticipated by his psychiatrist, with the PHS having completely pacified him he wasn’t only free of angry thoughts and emotions, he had also gradually lost the ability to experience pleasant feelings and impressions. The result by extension of the said PHS side-effect was essentially a deadening of his pre-hypnosis normal facial muscle activity that would have accompanied such positive feelings, hence his automaton-like non-expressive look.
When the story broke the next day that Gustavo, the peaceable ‘newcomer’ to town, had been beaten to death, the bitter irony was not at all lost on those few people who knew him well. What made the matter all the more difficult to accept was that the vicious crime had tragically been committed against him by a trio of his former high school peers and good friends. On the courtroom stand each of the three distraught young men had emphasized that upon their initial confusion over his blank expression, they had taken great offense by it after having misinterpreted it as an expression of disrespect, if not plain contempt, towards them.
The three assailants’ public defender later claimed in court that her clients’ deadly aggression against Gustavo “should be considered in proper context, your Honour. As tragic as the victim’s death may be, the fact nonetheless remains that the victim had responded to the three defendants’ presence with nothing but an abnormal blank stare (supposedly due to the aftereffect of therapeutic hypnosis that the victim had undergone about a month prior), which, intended or not, suggested his insolence towards the defendants’ very presence.”
The Crown attorney, however, strongly objected to the defense attorney’s claims, emphasizing instead that such an “argument is hardly plausible considering that, according to bystanders’ testimony under oath here in court, the victim had almost immediately began doubting the accuracy of his recognition of the three defendants and therefore, audibly to all witnesses present at the crime scene, stated to the defendants that, quote, ‘I’m sorry—my mistake’.”
As it were, two days after their convictions for aggravated manslaughter the three assailants individually revealed that soon after sobering up in lockup the morning after the deadly assault, each finally could recall with reasonable clarity that the deceased Gustavo had in fact been a former high school chum with whom they’d not conversed nor could they recollect even seeing since graduation. They further could recall of him that no matter how hard he tried to blend in with his peers he seemed to almost always end up saying the wrong thing—unfortunately, in his case, he’d eventually say something to which some people would take considerable offense and for which they might even brutally assault him.■
[November 2013, Frank G Sterle Jr]
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