It feels like the beginning of the end for my brother w/ BPD
My younger brother with BPD (30M) has been my (32F) main source of torment for nearly our whole lives. We haven’t been close since his symptoms started cropping up in middle school, and our relationship only became more trying when he got his formal diagnosis and used it as a justification for his behavior rather than a catalyst for any actual change.
In January 2025, I sent him a long message saying that I need him to change his behavior and treat me like a person if he wants to be in my life. We have been no contact ever since.
Our parents are in both of our lives, which makes things more complicated. But my brother and I both live in different states than our parents, which helps. My folks have also done a good job of respecting my wishes that I don’t want updates on my brother’s life unless it’s really important. Well, it seems like that important update that has finally happened.
A few weeks ago, just before my parents were set to visit me for the first time in a year, my brother broke his sobriety and made an attempt on his life. I found out after the fact that the suicide attempt was because my brother’s gf told him she was going to have dinner with an ex of hers and he absolutely spun out, blowing up her phone until she texted our mom to check on her son. The gf ignoring his messages was what pushed him over.
My brother lived. My dad dropped everything to fly down and get him stabilized. He and my brother’s therapist made a plan for my brother to get outpatient care once the insurance my dad set up for him kicked in on the first of the month. Once my dad flew home, my brother started spinning out again, and his therapist reached out to my dad to recommend that my brother stay with my parents until he could get further help. All three of them agreed that he would benefit more from inpatient care at a facility that specializes in BPD.
My brother finally headed to inpatient care this past week. Everyone seemed hopeful when he left. Then, after being there for about a day (just long enough for him to be out of observation), he decided he didn’t want to do it, ripped off his wristband, and walked out into the desert. He changed his mind somewhere in there and returned, and the facility had no idea he had left. When told that he had to be treated like he was a new patient again, he told them something like “if you put me down in observation again, I’m going to take my sheets and hang myself right in front of you.” Which did not go well for him.
My dad sent me another update last night. He had to fly out to the state where the facility is because they had determined my brother needed to be moved to “a higher level facility” and that my brother is not happy about it. I think my dad needed to go to give consent and know exactly where my brother is going now? I’m unsure. I’m sure I will hear more soon.
I don’t begrudge my dad giving me these updates, as I do still love my brother even if I don’t want him in my life, but also? Every update kills me. I was so hopeful in the middle of this process because it seemed for the first time that my brother actually wanted to get better and put effort into controlling his BPD. Now, it feels even worse than it did before. I guess part of why he’s really spinning out now is that he was convinced that there’s some magic medication that can fix all his symptoms, and when his inpatient clinic was like “no it’s just therapy and you gotta work at it,” he lost it.
I have always known that I would outlive my brother, that either the high BPD suicide rate or the addictions he uses to drown out his symptoms would catch up with him, but I didn’t anticipate it coming so soon. And it really does feel like it’s creeping up on me. It feels like my family is at a precipice, where either things are going to get mildly better or much worse, and the scale is tipping worse and worse by the moment. The small glimmer of hope that I might one day have any sort of relationship with my brother again is completely gone. I’m worried he’s going to die and it’s going to devastate our parents. I have previously worried that he’s going to live and he will one day become my problem, but it feels less likely these days. Last night, it felt like he was already gone. This morning, I feel numb. I have no hope that he could improve. It’s just a matter of time until the end.
If you’ve read all this way, thanks so much for listening to my vent. I have lurked and posted in this sub in the past and have found comfort just in being around other people who have been through the same experiences. It makes me feel less insane, unwraps my reality a bit. Wishing you all peace and care.