From surviving the draft to thriving on launch day. Jordan’s story is out, and so is mine.
It had been almost a year from when I finished the first draft of The Day I Died Again to pub day. That doesn’t include the countless edits and rewrites that followed, or the book deal that fell through in April, leaving me feeling lost. I poured everything I had into this book; it wasn’t just a labor of love… it was a coming-out story.
You see, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder back in October of 2017, and quite frankly, I was devastated. At that point, I had been in therapy for almost a year for what we all believed to be a case of chronic depression. I was in the darkest place I had ever been in my life. I felt lost. I felt completely alone. I felt a crippling sadness in my heart I had never experienced before. Suicidal ideation was the monkey on my back, pulling me down to the point where I was no longer eating, barely drinking, and sleep… well, that didn’t exist. I had dropped down to a dangerously low 103 lbs and was slowly killing myself without even realizing it.
That day in October when I was diagnosed changed everything. I had an answer—an answer that only made me feel like more of a freak. MORE OF A MONSTER. But the truth is, I’m not a monster at all. Just a girl with a traumatic, abusive, neglectful childhood that reared its ugly head and changed my brain and the way I see people and the world forever. But, nevertheless, I had an answer.
An answer that left me feeling ashamed to say those three letters out loud: BPD. I hid them, shoved them in the closet with my other skeletons because I didn’t want the world to see me in a different light. I was ashamed. Ashamed of one of the most misunderstood diagnoses that exists in the world. You hear BPD, you hear PSYCHOPATH. I knew I wasn’t a psychopath, but the irrational side of my brain repeated that word over and over until I felt like I couldn’t let anyone know I had Borderline Personality. That would have been devastating for me.
So, when I sat down to write The Day I Died Again, I knew it was time to give the diagnosis a voice. It was time to stop running from myself and confront it head-on. By this time, I had been in therapy for nine years and was making strides. I was in a new headspace. I wasn’t just surviving… I was thriving. That’s not to say that I’m ALL fixed—there is no cure, and I have to manage my symptoms every day. But the good news? I got better at managing the ups and downs. The highs and lows. The uncontrollable rage. The fear of abandonment.
When I got serious about writing my book, I got serious with myself. There was no more running. No more hiding. I was no longer holding back. Creating Jordan was cathartic, healing, and honestly, a hell of a lot of fun. She’s messy, raw, flawed, and unhinged. But she’s also loyal, loving, strong, and funny as hell. All the things I see in myself. All the things I accept in myself.
I hope this book opens the conversation and people start talking about BPD—not as a stigma or a villain, as the movies LOVE to portray, but as a beautifully flawed human who never asked for any of it. BPD comes from childhood trauma, neglect, and abuse. Someone failed us along the way and left us to pick up the pieces of their destruction. Left us to fend for ourselves. Left us to defend ourselves. Left us hopeless and feeling unlovable. What a tragedy. And that is where The Day I Died Again comes in. We are not hopeless or less lovable; we are the product of a traumatic childhood.
To be clear, I’m not excusing the behavior of anyone who lives with BPD. There are consequences for our actions. Our words. Our rage. I just want to clear up the misconceptions.
Fast forward to launch day, almost a year to the date from finishing the first draft. It was a success, at least to me. The amazing people who have rallied around this book, championed this book, told their friends and family about this book, and took the time to review the book… it is staggering. Every day I pinch myself. Every day I am grateful. Every day I am proud of myself for taking a chance on me and Jordan.
I wrote the book as a standalone, but there’s been an overwhelming request for MORE. More of Jordan and her story. Hearing those requests makes the woman in me who was once ashamed stand tall. I don’t know where the journey is going to take me, but I’m ready for whatever it has in store.
My heartfelt thank you to every single person who has embraced this book and gotten the word out. Here’s to the next chapter, and who knows—maybe to the next book in Jordan’s journey.
