As an introverted, queer teenager, I’d been forced to talk to a pretty long list of psychologists and psychiatrists. Despite this, I’d certainly had never heard one make a lot of sense before. Psychotic fundamentalist bullshit, certainly, but an accurate observation?

I was shocked. I hadn’t seen her long, but so far, we’d mostly talked about my strained relationship with my parents. And she was right. We totally did. She emphasized to me that she was my therapist, not my parents’, but made no bones about the fact that she thought a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder was pretty fitting for one of them.

Ten years later, I suspect I’ve still got the ‘crisis’ habit, despite my best efforts. My friend S. disagrees, convinced mine is a calm, measured response to the universe’s inherent anti-Catherine nature. Still, my therapist’s words have always stuck with me, as I worry about whether I might have inherited anything more serious than a habit.¹

On that note, this article from Scientific American was particularly interesting to me, as it discusses biological components of BPD, but also implies that, as with autism, ADD and mood disorders, there exists a “drama queen” spectrum. Neat. Maybe there’s a drama queen Kinsey scale.

“Dangerous Liaisons: How to Deal with a Drama Queen” (via Pete Quily)

1. Remember kids, the secret to not being crazy is to constantly ask yourself if you might be.