Borderline Personality Disorder Patients in Rural Clinics Receive Diazepine Sedatives Instead of Psychotherapy
When Sarah was 24, she drove two hours from her small Montana town to see a psychiatrist in Billings. She had been cycling through episodes of intense anger, self-harm, and a crushing fear of abandonment. The psychiatrist diagnosed her with generalized anxiety disorder and prescribed clonazepam. For the next three years, she tried five different sedatives—each one dulling her anxiety temporarily but never addressing the underlying emotional storms. It was only after a hospitalization that a new clinician recognized borderline personality disorder (BPD) and referred her to dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) via a telehealth program. “The medication just made me numb,” she told me. “I needed skills, not a pill.”
When the Gold Standard Is Out of Reach
Dialectical behavior therapy, developed by psychologist Marsha Linehan in the 1990s, remains the most rigorously studied treatment for BPD. Multiple randomized controlled trials show that DBT reduces self-harm, suicide attempts, and hospitalizations. It teaches patients to regulate emotions, tolerate distress, and improve interpersonal relationships. Clinical guidelines from the American Psychiatric Association and the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence recommend DBT as a first-line treatment.
Yet in rural America, DBT is often unavailable. A 2022 study found that roughly 20% of U.S. counties have at least one DBT provider, and those counties tend to be urban or suburban. In large swaths of the Great Plains, the Mountain West, and the rural South, patients may need to travel hundreds of miles or join months-long waitlists. Instead, primary care clinicians—who often lack training in personality disorders—turn to medications they know, such as diazepines like clonazepam or alprazolam.
Benzodiazepines can temporarily reduce anxiety, but they do not treat the core pathology of BPD: emotional dysregulation. In fact, some evidence suggests that chronic use may worsen impulsivity and increase the risk of dependency, especially in a population already prone to substance use. A 2019 meta-analysis in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry found that BPD patients prescribed benzodiazepines had higher rates of self-harm and suicide attempts compared with those who received therapy alone. The sedative substitute, in other words, may do more harm than good.
A Diagnosis Without a Roadmap
Borderline personality disorder affects an estimated 1–2% of U.S. adults, though some studies put the prevalence closer to 6% in primary care settings. It is characterized by instability in relationships, self-image, and mood, often accompanied by impulsive behavior. Despite its prevalence, diagnosis is frequently delayed or missed—especially in rural areas where mental health specialists are scarce.
Primary care physicians, who often serve as de facto mental health providers in underserved regions, may have limited exposure to personality disorders. Many have received minimal training in psychiatric diagnosis during medical school. When a patient presents with anxiety, depression, or suicidal thoughts, the clinician naturally gravitates toward familiar diagnoses—generalized anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, bipolar disorder—and prescribes accordingly. BPD can be mistaken for bipolar II disorder, particularly when mood swings are prominent.
Stigma also plays a role. Some clinicians hesitate to assign a personality disorder diagnosis, fearing it labels the patient as “difficult” or “untreatable.” This reluctance can lead to a cycle of ineffective treatment: antidepressants that don’t stabilize mood, sedatives that mask symptoms, and hospitalizations that fail to address the underlying condition. One survey of rural primary care providers found that fewer than half felt confident diagnosing BPD, and most expressed frustration with the lack of referral options. The diagnosis, once made, can feel like a roadmap with no destination.
The Sedative Substitute: What Clinicians Reach For
When psychotherapy is not an option, medication becomes the default. Among the most commonly prescribed drugs for BPD in rural clinics are benzodiazepines—diazepines such as alprazolam (Xanax), clonazepam (Klonopin), and lorazepam (Ativan). These are fast-acting sedatives that suppress the central nervous system, providing short-term relief from anxiety and agitation. For a patient in crisis, they can feel like a lifeline.
But the relief is deceptive. Benzodiazepines do not teach emotion regulation; they blunt emotional responses. Over time, tolerance develops, requiring higher doses for the same effect. Dependence is common, and withdrawal can provoke rebound anxiety, insomnia, and even seizures. For individuals with BPD, who may already struggle with impulsivity, the risk of misuse is substantial. A 2021 study in the Journal of Clinical Psychopharmacology found that BPD patients were three times more likely to develop benzodiazepine use disorder than the general population.
Clinical guidelines explicitly recommend against benzodiazepines for BPD. The American Psychiatric Association’s practice guideline advises that “benzodiazepines should generally be avoided” due to the risk of disinhibition, dependence, and overdose when combined with alcohol or other drugs. Yet prescribing persists. In a 2020 analysis of Medicaid claims, about 40% of BPD patients received at least one benzodiazepine prescription in the prior year, with higher rates in rural versus urban regions. The sedative substitute is not a failure of individual clinicians but a systemic one—a symptom of a mental health system that lacks the infrastructure to deliver what works.
Where Psychotherapy Is Hard to Find
The shortage of DBT providers in rural America is stark. According to the Behavioral Health Workforce Research Center, only about 20% of U.S. counties have any DBT-trained therapist, and many of those serve populations of fewer than 50,000 people. Rural areas also face a general shortage of mental health professionals: 65% of rural counties lack a psychiatrist, and 47% lack a psychologist. The few who practice in these regions often have waiting lists of six months or longer.
Telehealth has expanded access since the COVID-19 pandemic, but it is not a panacea. Many rural homes lack reliable broadband internet, and state licensing laws can prevent therapists from seeing patients across state lines. Even when telehealth is available, reimbursement rates for DBT remain lower than for medication management, discouraging therapists from offering it. A 2023 survey by the National Council for Mental Wellbeing found that only 30% of rural community mental health centers offered DBT, citing funding and staffing as primary barriers.
The consequences extend beyond individual suffering. Without access to DBT, BPD patients are more likely to use emergency services, be hospitalized, and attempt suicide. A 2018 cost-analysis estimated that untreated BPD costs the U.S. healthcare system over $20 billion annually in emergency care and inpatient stays. Investing in rural DBT training and telehealth infrastructure could reduce these costs, but policy has been slow to respond. The gap between what evidence recommends and what patients actually receive remains wide.
Patient Stories: The Cost of the Gap
Sarah’s story is not unique. Across rural America, BPD patients describe years of cycling through medications before anyone mentioned therapy. One woman in eastern Kentucky told me she was prescribed alprazolam at age 19 and took it for seven years, during which she attempted suicide twice. “I thought the pills were helping, but they just made me not care,” she said. After a DBT program through a state-funded telehealth initiative, she learned to identify her triggers and use distress tolerance skills. She has been free of self-harm for two years.
Another patient, a military veteran in rural Idaho, was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder and given valproate and alprazolam. The sedatives left him groggy and unable to work. A correct diagnosis of BPD came only after he was hospitalized for a suicide attempt. He now receives DBT via video sessions with a therapist in Boise, three hours away. “I wish someone had told me earlier that there was a different path,” he said.
These stories illustrate a systemic failure, not clinician malice. Primary care doctors are doing their best with limited resources. But the result is a pattern of pharmacologic Band-Aids on a wound that requires surgical precision—talk therapy that addresses the root cause. When patients finally access DBT, outcomes improve. A 2022 study in the Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology found that rural DBT delivered via telehealth was as effective as in-person therapy in reducing self-harm and improving quality of life. The question is why so few patients get that chance.
Trade-offs and Counter-arguments: Is Medication Ever Appropriate?
It would be misleading to suggest that medication has no role in BPD management. Some patients benefit from selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) for co-occurring depression or anxiety, and mood stabilizers like lamotrigine may help with affective instability. However, the evidence for these agents is modest at best, and no medication has been approved by the FDA specifically for BPD. The key distinction is that medication should be adjunctive, not a replacement for psychotherapy.
Clinicians who prescribe benzodiazepines often argue that they are necessary for acute crisis management. In a patient who is severely agitated or at imminent risk of self-harm, a short-acting sedative can provide immediate containment. But the danger lies in the transition from acute to chronic use. Without a plan to taper off and engage in therapy, the benzodiazepine becomes a crutch that prevents the patient from developing coping skills. Some experts advocate for structured protocols that limit benzodiazepine use to a few days at a time, with mandatory follow-up for therapy initiation. Yet such protocols are rarely implemented in rural settings where specialist supervision is absent.
Another counter-argument is that patients themselves sometimes prefer medication. The prospect of weekly therapy sessions—especially when travel is involved—can feel daunting. A pill is easy, familiar, and covered by insurance. But patient preference does not always align with best practice. A 2019 qualitative study of BPD patients in rural areas found that many initially resisted therapy because they feared being judged or misunderstood. Once they engaged in DBT, however, nearly all reported that it was more helpful than any medication they had tried. The challenge is to create a path that makes therapy accessible and acceptable, not to default to the path of least resistance.
Policy Levers That Could Shift Practice
Several policy changes could narrow the gap between evidence and practice. Expanding telehealth infrastructure—particularly broadband in rural areas—would allow more patients to connect with DBT providers. The Federal Communications Commission’s Rural Health Care Program has helped, but funding remains modest relative to need. States could also adopt interstate licensing compacts for mental health professionals, making it easier for therapists to treat patients across state lines.
Training primary care providers to recognize BPD and make appropriate referrals is another lever. Brief screening tools, such as the McLean Screening Instrument for BPD, can flag likely cases in minutes. Continuing medical education programs focused on personality disorders are being developed, but participation is voluntary. Some experts advocate for mandatory training in BPD for clinicians who prescribe benzodiazepines frequently.
Medicare and Medicaid, which cover a large share of mental health services in rural areas, could broaden coverage for DBT. Currently, many state Medicaid programs do not reimburse for DBT unless it is provided by a licensed psychologist, which limits availability. Expanding reimbursement to licensed clinical social workers and professional counselors—who often deliver DBT—could increase the workforce. At the federal level, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services could create a bundled payment for BPD care that includes therapy and case management.
Finally, states could introduce prescribing guidelines that limit benzodiazepine use for BPD. Some states, such as New York and Texas, already have regulations requiring prior authorization for long-term benzodiazepine use. Similar rules could be tailored to BPD patients, with exceptions for those already stable on therapy. Such policies need to be implemented carefully to avoid stigmatizing patients or limiting access to appropriate short-term use. But the status quo—where sedatives are prescribed in lieu of therapy—is neither effective nor safe.
A Broader Look at Workforce Innovation
Beyond policy changes, innovative workforce models are emerging to address the DBT shortage. One approach is the “train-the-trainer” model, where a small number of clinicians receive intensive DBT training and then train others in their region. The University of Washington’s Behavioral Research and Therapy Clinics have piloted such programs in rural Washington state, with promising results: trained providers reported increased confidence and a moderate increase in DBT availability within two years. However, scaling this model requires sustained funding and protected time for clinicians, which is scarce in understaffed rural clinics.
Another model involves the use of DBT-informed skills groups led by non-specialist facilitators, such as nurses or social workers with basic training. While not a substitute for full DBT, these groups can teach core skills like mindfulness and distress tolerance at a lower cost. A 2021 randomized trial in rural Mississippi found that patients who attended a 12-week DBT skills group had significantly fewer emergency department visits compared with a treatment-as-usual control group. The effect was smaller than that of full DBT, but the intervention was far more feasible to implement. For communities with no other option, even partial interventions can be a step forward.
Technology also offers novel solutions. Smartphone apps that deliver DBT skills—such as the DBT Coach app developed by the University of Washington—can provide round-the-clock support between therapy sessions. A 2020 pilot study showed that app users reported reduced self-harm urges and improved emotion regulation. While apps cannot replace a therapist, they can extend the reach of limited clinical resources. Rural health systems are beginning to integrate these tools into their care pathways, but adoption remains uneven.
Conclusion: From Sedation to Skill-Building
None of these changes are quick or easy. They require political will, funding, and coordination across healthcare systems. But the alternative—continuing to sedate a condition that demands skill-building—is a quiet tragedy playing out in thousands of exam rooms each year. For patients like Sarah, the difference between a pill and a session can be the difference between surviving and living. The evidence is clear: DBT works, even when delivered remotely. The challenge is to build the infrastructure that makes it available to everyone, regardless of where they live. Until then, rural patients will continue to receive sedatives instead of skills, and the gap between what we know and what we do will remain a source of preventable suffering.
This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical or professional advice. Always consult a qualified healthcare provider for personal health decisions.