Working through the programming

[Guest guest]

I haven't been posting much lately. First few weeks of school, huge

project and, in general, life.

We talk about how hard it is to reprogram ourselves to roll with the

punches. I had a whopper of a day yesterday which climaxed this

morning (9/5).

I am on safety patrol at my son's school and as such I am on call to

help the kids get from their cars to their classes safely. I enjoy

this and feel in a way I am helping my lost self grow up. Two of the

children this week were freaking out to the point where in one case

we had an honest to God Chinese Fire drill with one little five year

old whose mother would let him out on one side of the car and we

would chase him around the car trying to catch him only to have him

beat us, open the door and slip back into the car, all the while

screaming at the top of his lungs. The mother finally peeled him out

of the car and I had to carry this poor child to class, tears

streaming down his face. The other little girl was the same age,

although not so creative--we just could not get her out of the car.

She had her legs locked and her hands clamped on her mother's arm in

what can only be described as a death grip. Again I managed to peel

her out of the car after 5 minutes of screaming and only had to walk

her to class. With my hypersensitivity in full gear I was not only

relating to the mothers, but the kids as well. Fortunately these

mothers handled it with a fair amount of grace. Which was good for me

to see.

That afternoon I went to pick up my son and got in the car pick up

line early. I tried to park as far back as I could letting the other

cars go past me to position themselves nearer their children.

Unfortunately, just like that I was at the head of the line. One of

the teachers told me to pull up and park and then go get my son. I

did so and the next thing I heard was the description of my car being

yelled over the shcool PA system with my license plate number,

informing everyone with in a two block area that I was somehow

blocking traffic, even though I was in a place out of the way of

traffic. I walked back to my car, my son in tow mortified. My son

proceeded to spend the next 4 hours throwing a temper tantrum, the

likes of which would put any BPD to shame over a toy that he wanted

to play with. The toy is a reward that he needs to work towards by

reading a grade appropriate book to me by himself with minimal help.

I did my best not to react but by the time I went to bed I was a

wreck and ended up sleeping only 60 minutes before I had to get both

he and I up for another day at school.

After dropping him off in his class in which I was bombarded with

paperwork to sign that had been given out only the day before and I

did not get around to viewing last night, I went to the Principle'

Office to discuss a safety issue with her that would have taken 30

seconds to relay. I watched while the secretary and the Principle

fell all over themselves to help a man find his wife's cell phone

that ended up not being in the office. Granted there were others in

the office ahead of me, I would have been glad to wait. The Secretary

turns to me and asks me what I want. I tell her I need thirty seconds

of the Principl's time, to which she begins to lecture me that the

Principle does not have time to see me and that there are several

other people in line ahead of me. I tell her it is a safety issue and

the next thing I know she is telling me that a parent had already

been in the office with a safety issue as if our information was

exactly the same and I would just be repeating it.

By this time I threw up my hands and left. I sat in my car in the

parking lot and shook.

Why is this important? Because if this had happened even six months

ago I would have had a massive panic attack, no doubt would have been

a crying mess. I was able to disentangle myself from a set of events

which had only one connection--myself. The universe was not out to

get me and while I feel the secretary should have handled it better,

I did not paint her an evil *itch for being snippy with me as I might

have done a few months ago. No doubt she was having a stressful

morning as well.

Sometimes I don't think I am making progress in undoing the damage

that has been done to me, and then I have days like this and realize

that I am changing and that I can let it go.

For those of you who wonder if you will ever be able to behave in a

different manner, or find a reaction other than those pounded into

you by one BPD parent or another, know that the changes you are

making by being on this board, reading your books, writing in your

journals, talking to your therapists and what not, ALL are having an

internal effect even if it isn't obvious.

If what I have posted can help even one of you see that change is

possible, then yesterday was worth it for me.

Keep trying.

Be strong