Representation of BPD in media

Borderline personality disorder (BPD) is a complex and often misunderstood mental health condition. It affects the way people think and feel about themselves, and others, and is marked by emotional instability, intense interpersonal relationships and a fragile sense of self. It’s estimated that around 2 in 100 people in the UK experience borderline personality disorder at some point in their lives.

Those affected often experience rapid mood shifts, fear of abandonment, impulsivity and chronic feelings of emptiness – symptoms that can be deeply distressing and difficult to navigate. But despite an estimated 3% of the population being diagnosed with BPD, it’s one of the most misrepresented mental health diagnoses. And nowhere is that more evident than in media.

Diagnostic bias plays a significant role in shaping public perception. Around 75% of BPD diagnoses are in women, many of whom have experienced childhood trauma, neglect or abandonment, yet media depictions rarely explore these origins. Instead, they often reduce it to a sensationalised trope: dangerous, manipulative and tragically doomed.

A 2021 study found that stigma toward BPD is higher than almost any other mental health condition, including schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. Even clinicians report feeling less empathy toward patients with BPD, often due to media-fuelled misconceptions.

But a shift (if a very slow one) is beginning to take shape. More nuanced, compassionate portrayals are beginning to emerge, ones that challenge harmful tropes and reflect the complexity, humanity and resilience of people living with BPD.

Here, I explore how media can shape public perception, the damage caused by reductive storytelling and the importance of representation done right.

Harmful tropes

The “crazy ex” or femme fatale

Characters with BPD traits are often cast as obsessive, seductive and emotionally volatile, usually used to justify male protagonists’ trauma. These portrayals reduce BPD to a spectacle which fuels stigma, fear and the myth that people with the condition are inherently harmful in relationships.

Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction is often cited as the archetype of the “crazy ex-girlfriend” trope. Her emotional volatility, obsession and violent behaviour are framed as symptoms of mental illness, speculated to be BPD (though never named). The depiction reinforces the idea that women with intense emotions are dangerous and unstable, particularly in romantic contexts.

In Gone Girl, Amy Dunne is manipulative, calculating and emotionally explosive. While the story doesn’t diagnose the character, her behaviour is often linked to BPD in pop psychology discourse. The narrative leans into the femme fatale archetype, using mental illness as a plot twist.

The unstable villain

BPD is sometimes conflated with narcissism or sociopathy, leading to portrayals of characters who are manipulative, violent or incapable of empathy. These characters blur diagnostic lines and reinforce the idea that BPD is synonymous with manipulation, violence or moral failure, erasing the reality of emotional pain and trauma.

Girl, Interrupted, Susannah Kaysen’s memoir, was adapted into a film in 1999, and the charismatic, rebellious and emotionally erratic Lisa Rowe was played by Angelina Jolie. She’s diagnosed with sociopathy, but her portrayal is often conflated with BPD traits (impulsivity and unstable relationships). While the film offers moments of empathy, Lisa’s character is ultimately framed as dangerous and untrustworthy.

In Single White Female, Hedra Carlson’s fear of abandonment, impulsivity and identity disturbance are often interpreted as BPD-coded. The film uses melodramatic stereotypes of the condition as a horror device, reinforcing the idea that emotional instability equals threat.

The tragic woman

Some stories frame people with BPD as lost causes. Sometimes characters are portrayed as doomed, unlovable or incapable of healing, which erases the reality of recovery and reinforces hopelessness. Sometimes it’s suggested that they’re doomed to suffer or be saved by others, undermining the possibility of agency and growth.

In Thirteen, Tracy Freeland’s descent into self-harm, impulsivity, and identity confusion is portrayed with raw intensity. While not explicitly diagnosed, her behaviour mirrors BPD traits. The film ends without resolution, leaving viewers with a sense of hopelessness rather than healing.

Tiffany Maxwell’s diagnosis is never named in Silver Linings Playbook, but the movie accurately portrays symptoms of BPD, including impulsivity, self-destructive behaviours and fear of abandonment. Her arc is romanticised and lacks depth, and her recovery is framed through romance rather than therapy or self-work.

Healing narratives

Complex, compassionate characters

There are a few TV shows out there that offer more layered portrayals and show therapy, growth and the messiness of healing. They offer hope, complexity and humanity, showing that recovery is possible, and that people with BPD are more than their diagnosis.

Rebecca Bunch in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is one of the few characters in mainstream media explicitly diagnosed with BPD. The series follows her journey through therapy, medication and self-discovery with humour and honesty. And while the show does fall short on emphasising how debilitating BPD can be, rather than making her diagnosis a punchline, it’s shown as a turning point toward healing.

While Mickey Dobbs in Love isn’t diagnosed with BPD, many of her behaviours appear to be motivated by its symptoms – substance abuse, unstable relationships and an intense fear of abandonment. The character isn’t romanticised, but successfully helps the audience see her perspective, allowing empathy for her experience.

Lived experience storytelling

Memoirs offer a raw, reflective insight into living with BPD without sensationalism. They offer nuance, vulnerability and challenge the assumption that there’s no hope of recovery.

The Buddha and the Borderline is memoir that chronicles Keira Van Gelder’s journey through diagnosis, DBT and spiritual exploration. It’s raw and reflective, haunting and deeply human, offering insight into the inner world of someone with BPD.

Merri Lisa Johnson explores BPD through the lens of gender, trauma and cultural expectation in Girl in Need of a Tourniquet, which blends memoir and academic critique. It’s brutal and blunt, but a powerful reclamation of narrative – delivered in a non-linear, experimental style – from someone living it.

Why (the right) representation matters

Representation shapes reality. When borderline personality disorder (or any mental health condition) is portrayed as monstrous or hopeless, it affects how people are treated – in relationships, workplaces and healthcare settings. It can delay diagnosis, discourage treatment and deepen shame. BPD is not a plot device. It’s a lived reality, one that deserves empathy. By challenging harmful tropes and embracing new archetypes, we can create stories that reflect the full spectrum of human experience – with all the messy, magical bits.