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I'm too hurt right now to post many details. But after doing some

research, I am confident my mother is suffering from BPD. We have

all been suffering. This is my first time reaching out and a couple

of years ago when I was in college I wrote a poem after a painful

interaction with my mother. Reading it years later supports my

theory that she has BPD. I wanted to share it. Maybe someone can

relate...

I am the object of her hate

I speak only to prove her " truth "

My words are only mere whispers she uses to create

The quilt of her denial she uses

To warm her self induced cold heart

The created Arctic she requires

To blame me for the faults of her desires

Her manufactured truth

The truth she uses to subtract the reality of the world

And supply the void with her own

Her reality is the family fuel

They gulp her nourishment and feed with her on her pain

They are warmed by her quilt

Her quilt of pain

My love is never conveyed

My love is an unreality in her eyes

The eyes given to her as a child

The poor child pumped with pain

Tortured by her own family

She does the same

My gift of perspective is a curse

If I don't play her game

We all feel her pain

I see her how she is, the child

She denies my knowledge

She knows I see her

She hides her cold hurt soul

Under her shelter, her quilt of pain

I love you so I'll live with you in your cold

I don't need your painful warmth

By their urges I can't be satisfied

I won't feed on the emotional carcases like the rest

What she thinks is me being vain

Is just me refusing her quilt of pain

-Staci

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