In the Furnace: Charting a Bold New Path with BPD and C-PTSD

When my therapist finally uttered the words, "You have borderline personality disorder (BPD) and complex post-traumatic disorder (CPTSD)." I felt an overwhelming rush of emotions. Relief washed over me—finally, there was a name for the chaotic storm inside me. Yet, another part of me felt more broken than ever before. Naming what I was dealing with did not bring the peace I had hoped for; instead, it magnified my feelings of unworthiness and despair.

For years, I had struggled with emotional instability, an intense fear of abandonment, and the haunting memories of past traumas. These were not just fleeting anxieties; they were the core of my daily existence. Each day felt like a battle, and I was growing weary. The diagnosis offered clarity and a stark realization that the journey ahead would be arduous.

The excitement about finding appropriate treatment mingled with a profound sense of fear. What if nothing worked? What if I was beyond help? The weight of these questions pressed down on me, making each step forward feel like an impossible leap. Sharing my diagnosis with others seemed equally daunting. The stigma surrounding mental health issues is pervasive, and I dreaded being judged, labeled, or dismissed. It was easier to suffer in silence than to expose my vulnerabilities and risk rejection.

In the midst of this turmoil, I sought counsel from my pastor and a close friend. Their words provided a lifeline: "This level of healing will require different things. You will have to move things out of the way and find a new way of living. This may not include some people you love." These words resonated deeply, offering a sobering truth. True healing would demand sacrifices, tough decisions, and a fundamental shift in my life. It reminded me of the principle of unBEAcoming—letting go of what no longer serves you so you can live the life you deserve and desire.

Their advice was both comforting and terrifying. The thought of shedding old habits, environments, and perhaps even relationships was daunting. It felt like standing at the edge of a precipice, knowing that the leap was necessary but fearing the fall. This level of healing, they said, hits differently—it is profound and transformative but also excruciatingly painful.

The biblical story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace came to mind. They faced a blazing trial yet emerged unscathed because of their unwavering faith and God's protection. I felt like I was in my own furnace, the heat of my mental struggles searing my soul. I was running and fighting to escape, desperate for relief. The story reminded me that while I was in the midst of this fiery trial, I was not alone. God was with me, fighting the battle on my behalf. My role was to remain present and engaged in the fight, trusting that victory would come.

There was something more—something that hadn’t occurred to me before. In my constant running and fighting, I had overlooked the importance of stillness, of becoming unbusy. By constantly moving, I avoided the things I needed to confront. Being unbusy offers me the opportunity to deepen my self-awareness and truly understand what was holding me back. It was only in this space of stillness that I could begin to see the patterns, the old wounds, and the unresolved traumas that were keeping me trapped in a cycle of pain.

This process is not linear. There are days when the darkness feels insurmountable, and the weight of my diagnoses crushes my spirit. On other days, I catch glimpses of hope and strength, moments when I believe healing is possible. The key, I have learned, is persistence and faith. Staying present in the struggle, despite the pain, is crucial. Each step forward, no matter how small, is a testament to my resilience and a move toward healing.

One of the hardest parts of this journey is accepting that some relationships may not withstand the changes I need to make. Letting go of certain people, even those I love, may be necessary to create a healthier environment for myself. This realization is heartbreaking, but I understand that my well-being must take precedence. Healing demands that I surround myself with support and positivity, even if it means making difficult choices. This is the essence of unBEAComing—releasing what no longer serves my highest good so I can embrace the life I deserve and desire.

In this journey of healing, I am learning to redefine my worth, not through the lens of my diagnoses, but through the strength and faith that sustain me. The furnace may be hot, but it is also a crucible for transformation, and I am determined to emerge renewed and whole. By embracing the principle of unBEAcoming, I can let go of what no longer serves me, deepen my self-awareness, and step into the life I have always deserved and desired.

Success Ain't Solo: How Womanism Redefines Winning Together

My Tribe | Black women who break the status quo in partnership with other Black women, with us all in mind.

When I heard Nella say: “I don’t want to succeed if it means being the only one. That’s not what success looks like to me,” in The Other Black Girl, it reverberated in my soul with the same power as the beat switch in Meek Mill’s “Dreams and Nightmares.”

It took me a while to understand why it hit so hard. For a minute, I thought it was attached to my codependent tendencies, but it was more than that. As I leaned into my curiosity, I realized that the quote spoke to my value of Black women aligned with my womanist beliefs.

Womanists champion the rights and experiences of Black women, ensuring our success doesn't overshadow, sideline, or outshine others in our community. Instead, it uplifts everyone around us, crafting a legacy of unity, mutual respect, and shared prosperity. We aim to forge paths where others can walk beside us, not behind us.

Alice Walker introduced the term in her book In Search of Our Mother’s Garden: Womanist Prose (Harcourt Brace, 1983). She said the term womanism was inclusive and illustrative of Black women’s courage, willfulness, audacious behavior, grown-up, in-charge demeanor, and love for other women, themselves, and humanity. 

The quote was deeply womanist. I am deeply womanist. 

Where I go, so shall my people. Success is not a sweet treat without the opportunity to share it with others. Womanism is a deeply ingrained value for me. 

On my journey, this philosophy has been a compass. I've weathered challenges, confronted naysayers, and missed opportunities, but my allegiance to collective success has remained unshakable. Ascending alone can be a lonely summit—after all, what value does a panoramic view hold if savored in isolation?

Our present culture often extols individual achievements, celebrating personal gain more than communal upliftment to allow those in power to maintain mind control over us like Debo had over Smokey.

Black women have played a part in every historical social movement since women’s suffrage, often being relegated to the help and used for their time and talents but never fully considered. Even with this energy, we’ve shown up and fought. We fought and continue to fight because there would be no representation of everyone without us. Our belief in shared success tells us we must enter the fight to ensure everyone wins. We walk in the room seeking justice for all, not seeking to maintain the status quo, the norm.

The heart of womanism challenges the status quo. Breaking barriers isn't a solo sport—it's a relay race. Every stride should pave a path broad enough for our community to journey alongside us. It cautions against the trap of solipsistic success, where the only cheers are one's own.

Womanists know the most fulfilling triumphs are those celebrated together. Much like the diverse ingredients in a pot of gumbo, our narratives, when blended, create a rich tapestry of shared achievements and interconnected legacies. To stand alone at the zenith isn't success—it's merely solitude. Success thrives when our stories intertwine, forging a lineage of collective milestones and shared memories.

In love + light …

Bea