From Misdiagnosis to Meaning: How Faith and Wellness Helped Me Heal
Swept Away by Love Bombing
I was moving on from an abusive partner and had just restarted my life and was no longer caught up in mood-altering medications, and for the first time in what felt like a long time, I was doing well, focused on my well-being and my passions. I stacked savings from previous bartending and dog-sitting jobs, and was working towards funding and shooting my first short film. I had found a new job that was super easy and stress-free enough for me to focus on my creative pursuits which is such a rare find. Then I met a nice but deeply conflicted man at this new job and his presence slowly began to change my plans. I never thought I’d fall for someone I had no business getting close to in the first place. Someone emotionally unavailable, who should have never pursued me at all. The details of what happened between us doesn’t matter, but what stayed with me was how love bombing can make you feel like you’re everything someone has ever needed, like you’re their missing piece. And for a while, I believed it.
This man was also in a position of authority over me so there was already an imbalance from the start. When someone in power crosses that line, the dynamic gets complicated in ways you can’t always see in the moment. He hovered around me, made himself present at every opportunity, and it felt like I couldn’t escape his attention even when I wanted to. Before long, he fell hard, and so did I. Love has a way of arriving uninvited, sweeping in like a storm, wrecking your carefully laid plans, and pulling your focus away from the bigger goals you thought you were chasing.
Initially, I resisted hard. I didn’t want the chaos I knew that would come from being involved with someone like this. He had his own baggage… things he didn’t want to face, responsibilities he was running away from. And instead of dealing with it, he wanted me to be his escape. Love bombing has a way of making everything feel safe, intense, and irresistible all at once. I ignored my instincts and gave in, choosing heart over head. The connection felt electric, like we’d known each other forever, and before long, I wanted a life with him in it. It felt right, but only for a while.
The Mislabeling of My Pain
Eventually, I knew I had to end things because I had morals and knew this kind of relationship wasn’t healthy for me. I was so blindsided and he presented himself as a safe haven, everything I thought I would ever need, but walking away was brutal. Even though I chose to hit the eject button, the withdrawal felt like ripping away the one thing I thought was holding me together. The breakup left me gutted, but it also held up a mirror. I didn’t know how to process the aftermath of letting go of someone who had pulled me in so deeply, so fast. The emotional crash landed me back in therapy, where I was misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder… a label that shaped how I saw myself for years.
I made that diagnosis my identity. I talked about it openly online, and started advocating and teaching people about it. At first, it felt like relief… finally, a name for my pain, a way to make sense of my past. But the longer I lived with that label, the less it fit. The cracks were small at first, then impossible to ignore. I tend to move on quickly after breakups, enjoy my time alone, and don’t struggle with abandonment issues. I didn’t feel the chronic emptiness, nor was I reckless or self-destructive, and I’d never attempted to take my own life or even considered it. My anger wasn’t random; it was always tied to very real betrayals or heartbreak. And my so-called “black and white” thinking only surfaced in those moments, not as a constant pattern. Yet the mental health professional I trusted to see me clearly missed all of that.
The feelings I shared with the therapist, were completely normal, considering everything I’ve been through, especially in my love life. I know now that what I was experiencing wasn’t a personality disorder per se, but the deep pain of being abused and manipulated, and giving my heart away to those who were careless and reckless with it. And when I started to heal deeply after reverting to Islam, those feelings of anger and bitterness faded as my environment stabilized. Long before I got married to my now husband, I realized I wasn’t inherently unstable, I had simply been reacting to psychological and emotional trauma.
When Trauma Speaks Through the Body
I also couldn’t ignore how trauma had taken root in my body. Abuse, trauma, and years of emotional instability had left invisible imprints that showed up as very real physical symptoms, tightness in my chest, tension headaches, gut discomfort, and waves of exhaustion that felt like my body was carrying the weight of every heartbreak. Stress doesn’t just live in the mind; it floods the nervous system, disrupts hormones, and throws digestion, sleep, and even immunity off balance.
I reached a point where I knew I didn’t want to go back on pharmaceuticals. Instead, I wanted to reconnect with wellness, to find natural ways to take care of myself that didn’t leave me feeling numbed or dependent. Somatic practices helped me notice where my body was holding old pain, whether in my clenched jaw, shallow breathing, or the knot in my stomach that always seemed to surface when I thought about the past. The body keeps the score, and unless we tend to those layers, healing feels incomplete.
Wellness became more than just a routine for me; it became a way of reclaiming myself. Simple practices like mindful breathing and eating, healthier foods, and movement began to restore balance. Each step reminded me that healing isn’t about erasing the past but about regulating the mind, soothing the body, and creating space for peace again. Still, I felt something was missing, the spiritual side. I had never been drawn to most religions, and the only one I had overlooked completely was the very one I dismissed because of its bad reputation.
Finding Ease in Allah’s Plan
Right after my 30th birthday, I turned to Allah and my life changed completely. Becoming Muslim gave me a framework of meaning, hope, and trust in Allah’s plan, which transformed how I processed pain and sorrow. My nervous system found moments of peace during Salah, and I kept in mind the words of Allah: “Verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest” (Qur’an 13:28). I began to understand that no hardship is without purpose: “Indeed, with hardship comes ease” (Qur’an 94:6).
Fast forward to today, I’m married to the most brave, masculine and god fearing man I have ever met and have a beautiful daughter and three bonus step children whom I love deeply. As a bonus, my husband is handsome and charming, but looks eventually fade… what matter to me the most is his ability to lead me in the right direction of pleasing God. He cares about my afterlife, and that’s the best kind of love only a real (masculine) man can give to his wife. A lot of men claim to be god fearing, but my husband actually walks the talk. That’s another reason I was drawn to Islam because for Muslim men, faith isn’t just a label, it’s a way of life they actually live by… They’re nothing like the pretenders I’ve known before.
Of course, that doesn’t mean my life is suddenly became perfect just because I became Muslim. But Islam reshaped the way I approach challenges, making both stress and life itself easier to navigate. It also affected my health in a big way, once my heart and mind found stability, my body began to follow! The tension I carried for years started to ease, my sleep improved, and even my digestion felt lighter when my spirit was at rest. As for my past trauma, which still crosses my mind at times, I’ve learned to meet it differently. Whenever I felt overwhelmed by traumatic or heartbreaking memories, I remember this verse “Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear.” (Qur’an 2:286). A reminder that I was made strong enough to handle the trials written for me.
Another ayah that deeply anchored me was: “If Allah knows any good in your hearts, He will give you something better than what was taken from you…” (Qur’an 8:70) It’s a reminder that what feels like an ending is often the beginning of something far greater. People tend to often overlook the spiritual aspect of mental health. True well-being is not just physical and not all spirituality promotes well-being, though. True spirituality grounds the mind, eases emotional burdens, and fosters healthier choices that naturally support the body’s healing. I found that Islam aligned perfectly with that.
Healing Beyond the Label: More Than a Misdiagnosis
Feeling things deeply doesn’t automatically mean you have borderline personality disorder (BPD). Intensity of emotion can come from many different places, and for some people, it’s simply part of their temperament. A few possibilities… Some people are naturally more emotionally attuned, noticing subtleties in tone, energy, or environment that others miss, If you’ve been through instability, hurt, or neglect, your nervous system may have learned to stay alert and reactive. That doesn’t mean you have a personality disorder, it means your body and mind are trained to feel strongly in order to stay safe, Just like some people sweat more or need more sleep, some nervous systems are built to feel things more vividly. Hormones, brain chemistry, and even diet can amplify emotional perception. People who think deeply often feel deeply. You may ruminate, reflect, or connect dots in ways that naturally make emotions more powerful and layered.
BPD involves a very specific pattern of emotional instability, identity disturbance, fear of abandonment, and impulsivity that affects nearly every part of life. Simply having intense emotions doesn’t mean you meet that definition.When a mental health professional mislabels my pain as a fixed disorder, it makes healing feel even further away… It’s like being told that the wound isn’t something you can heal from, only something you can manage forever. That belief can keep you stuck in an identity and its even worse if that label was never truly yours. The truth is, what I was experiencing wasn’t a lifelong defect, but a reaction to very real harm. We may not always see someone’s true colors right away, and sometimes the cost of finding out is a lot of heartbreak and trauma. But Allah, in His perfect wisdom, can turn even those losses into stepping stones toward something better, whether that “better” is protection from greater harm, a deeper connection with Him, or blessings we couldn’t yet imagine.
Have you ever been misdiagnosed with a personality disorder or been given a diagnosis that didn’t feel like you? How did it affect you? I’d love to hear your experience in the comments below.
