What Would Happen If I Could Wave a Magic Wand and You Suddenly Got Better and Stayed Better? Alfred Adler’s Magical Question.

The question is designed to shed light on the negative consequences the patient *perceives* should occur within their family unit should the patient stop their self-destructive behaviours.

I’ve personally never been asked this question, yet I have spent time ruminating on the question.

What *would* happen if I suddenly got well, and stayed well?

Nothing. I’ll still be me, just better equipped at dealing with negative emotions, and my amygdala will probably be working at correct efficiency. My family will still be here. I had a very happy, loving upbringing, which I understand isn’t always the case, unfortunately, when a person is diagnosed borderline.

I do love a lot about my BPD, and there’s things I’d miss if I were completely cured.

For instance, I would miss the all-consuming passion of the first throes of love; how excited and passionate I get about my beliefs and interests. I will try a multitude of things, I’m explorative, and I’m experimentalist. Anything has the potential to bring intense excitement, and I won’t know until I try.

I’m not sure how much of this is *me* or the BPD, so assuming it’s the BPD, I’d be sad to see these good emotions muted.

Yet at the same time, I would be more focused, and less interested at picking apart the smaller details. I’m assuming I’d spend less time viewing life from all angles, and planning next steps. I doubt my life would be as regimented as it is now, because my routines and tasks make me feel functional and *safe*.

I’d love to be more spontaneous and less fearful of impulsivity or the consequences of things going wrong should my plan or organisation fail or takes a setback.

Maybe I’ve overthought it, but that’s what you do with BPD. You overthink everything, and I suppose without BPD, I’d do less of this too. That’s no bad thing.

I assume I’d feel less guilt, and I’d be more trusting. Maybe I wouldn’t get upset because friends aren’t investing as much time into our friendship as I do. Maybe I’d be more laidback, and worry less about whether people like me or not. Maybe I’d not care if they did.

Maybe I’d finally live life, instead of just existing.

Maybe I’d actually do those big plans. The ones I’m too scared to do, because they seem so overwhelming and time-consuming; because I’m scared of not living up to my potential.

Maybe I’d stop doubting myself so much.

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