Words by Ren Santos

The first time I thought I had borderline personality disorder (BPD) was when I was 12 years old. I knew there was something off with me: I felt empty, anxious, and disconnected. At the time, everything I knew about mental health came from the internet. Admittedly, it was not the most reliable source. I was just a 12-year-old with unrestricted internet access who didn’t know any better. 

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My internet browsing then led me to relate to a comic character who was commonly assumed to have BPD, so I thought I had it as well. They were hypersensitive to social cues and quick to get attached, and they had intense mood swings—just like I did. However, I soon realized that I shouldn’t be getting ahead of myself—it was a bad idea to self-diagnose so quickly, especially if my only basis was a character from a comic I found to be relatable. All this to say that I probably don’t have borderline personality disorder.

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However, in my teenage years, my mental health worsened. I started having panic attacks and depressive episodes. I pushed friends away and isolated myself. While not officially diagnosed, it wasn’t hard to guess that my mental health is a complicated matter. Depression, maybe? I just hoped it’s not BPD. The illness I once thought I had now scared me. It became popular on social media for the wrong reasons: being manipulative, violent, and obsessive. These stereotypes rose to popularity because of “yanderes,” a trope in Japanese pop culture of characters who obsessively fall in love to the point of insanity and violence. Characters like Yuno Gasai from Mirai Nikki and Ayano from Yandere Simulator showed BPD traits while harming and killing people, with the goal of being with their object of affection. People with BPD were called “real-life yanderes.” It scared me—I’m not like that, I’m not a monster. I’m normal, and I don’t have borderline personality disorder.

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When I was 19 years old, my friend asked out of the blue if I had been considered for BPD  after I finished taking my first appointment with my psychiatrist. My friend knew I wasn’t content with my appointment—I got diagnosed with ADHD and depression and was prescribed Ritalin, but something still felt missing. I hadn’t expected BPD, though, so I was taken aback. Were they calling me a violent monster? Was I a freak? Had I done something wrong? Why would they think that? Then, they explained to me that, on top of exhibiting all of the textbook symptoms for BPD, all the characters I relate to also are heavily implied to have BPD, especially Kaveh from Genshin Impact and Sylvain from Fire Emblem: Three Houses. If anything, they were surprised that I hadn’t considered it sooner with how much I talk about how relatable they are.

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While I was relieved that they didn’t imply any negative connotation, I was surprised by what they said about my favorite characters having BPD. While I do see the occasional BPD headcanon for them, surely they don’t actually have the disorder, right? My favorite characters—they’re normal. They’re not yanderes who would go to the extreme in the name of obsessive love. They’re relatable. They fear abandonment, feel the constant need to please people, and have intense mood swings, among other things. That just means they have the same problems as I do. It doesn’t necessarily have to be borderline personality disorder.

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…Or so I thought. After being asked that, I took the effort to learn more about BPD—properly, this time. I read verified articles and research and learned from those who were diagnosed with the disorder. Furthermore, I was able to connect with it through my favorite characters. While learning more about BPD, I saw evident patterns that both Kaveh and Sylvain exhibited, ones that I mirrored in real life. Their traits I resonated with weren’t mere coincidences—they were diagnostic criteria for the disorder. I might actually have borderline personality disorder.

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I gradually learned to let go of my own prejudices against BPD, unlearning its stereotypical associations with violence and obsession. I started seeing it through the lens of the characters I have grown fond of, who also happen to have BPD. Kaveh and Sylvain’s experiences helped me make sense of my own and reminded me that my experiences are not isolated. Even though they are “just” fictional, they made me feel seen and understood. The way their respective characters were handled in their character arcs consequently made me acknowledge that there was room for me to grow as well.

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Now, at the age of 20, I have officially been diagnosed with BPD. It’s something I’ve simply come to accept as a fact of life, and I’m slowly learning to cope with it. Healing isn’t linear, and there are times I find myself back at square one. 

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My journey with mental health highlights the interaction of art and psychology through popular media today. The approach that shows, games, books, and other forms of media use to represent mental health conditions largely informs people’s perception of it. Without interacting with these different media, I would never have begun to question the state of my own mental health. Had the yandere trope not been so popularized, I might have noticed that I had BPD sooner. On the other hand, without Kaveh and Sylvain, I would never have been able to bridge the gap between the scientific facts and my lived experiences. However, this experience is not unique to me; I’m sure plenty of others have learned things about themselves through the media they consume.

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In the 21st century, we are producing and consuming more media than ever before. With this, we must understand the essence of representation and how it reflects real life. Art serves to bridge the gap between people, allowing them to experience things from the perspective of others. This is especially important in mental health, as making and consuming media provides an avenue for understanding a concept as intangible as mental illness.

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By understanding the influence of art and media on how we connect with others, we nurture empathy—which is increasingly scarce in the current social climate. As politicians and corporations prioritize profit, we lose ourselves to a capitalistic system that devalues human connection. In a time where we are seen as parts of a profit-generating machine, the most radical thing we can do is to be caring and understanding.

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Ren Santos is a yapper who is finally trying to put their words to use. They are an incoming psychology junior, hoping to bridge the gap between art and psychology. They also served as the 72nd Art Editor of HEIGHTS Ateneo. They can be found getting their hand chewed by their beloved dog, Snufi, or working on their chart detailing the characters they find relatable (and which BPD symptoms each one of them have).