Permission to use support group postings for book on being a KO!

[Guest guest]

Hi everyone,

It's been a while since I've been on here, but I think of you all nearly daily

these days. I've been on a whirlwind writing storm. I'm writing a book about my

experience being a KO! It's called Over The Borderline, and ultimately it's a

story of hope and triumph, as I moved through a lot of the crap of my childhood

into acceptance and a good place. I'm nearly finished with the first-draft

manuscript. Here are three short excerpts:

___________

I’m 14 and I’ve just hosted a sleepover, the best part of which being that

my friend Inga is over. There are other friends, there, as well †" two or three

or of them, but it’s just me and Inga in the kitchen in the morning. I am

getting orange juice out of the fridge. My mother comes in and says hello, a

rare sighting. Whenever there is more than one guest of mine in the house, she

hides out in her room †" I’m not sure why. She hates people, like my father,

but sometimes I wonder if that’s just an excuse. Is she afraid they will judge

her? She has sometimes said that she’s afraid of teenagers, that they’re

intimidating. I know what she means. There’s nothing meaner than a teenage or

pre-teen girl. Still, it’s a little odd that she is so reclusive when my

friends are over.

“Good morning,†says Inga.

“Good morning,†says my mother, “how did you all sleep?†She goes to

the fridge to get something, probably Perrier, before retreating back into her

room.

“Fine,†Inga replies. I am mildly anxious that there is something wrong,

that my mother is or will be displeased about something. I’m constantly on the

alert, but reading her face it appears that there’s nothing wrong. Still,

after this I make a mental note to go and check on her in her room, make sure

everything is ok.

I pour orange juice for me and Inga, but I place her glass too close to the

edge of the counter. As I turn around to say something, the glass falls and

breaks. My mother yells.

“MEL! How stupid, careless †" clumsy †" why did you do that?â€

There is sudden silence in the other room, where there was chatter.

“Geez, it was an accident! Sorry,†I say. There is a pause.

“You did that just to hurt me!†she yells shrilly. But it is not her voice

or what she says that is memorable. It is her attitude, the spiteful, biting

tone, the fleeting out-of-control look in her eyes, the edge.

“GOD, you’re so SELFISH!†she shouts, storming out of the kitchen.

“Mom, it’s just orange †" â€

But she is already out the door, throwing up her hands and angrily stomping

down the hall. As she slams the door to her room, Inga looks at me, her eyes

wide. There is sudden quiet in the kitchen.

I mop up the orange juice, quietly ashamed.

_____________

I am just 26. It has been a little under a year since I broke up with my

mother. On October 11th, my birthday, I receive a thick manila envelope from her

in the mail. My birthday present. It contains a photo album I once gave her for

safekeeping. I made it to take with me when I went abroad, filling it with

pictures that reminded me of home and my family. It had pictures of me and her,

me and my father, and Kenda, our cat in Hawai’i. Returning it is a

statement: you’ve clearly rejected your family, so here, take this back. I

don't want it.

The envelope also contains a photocopy of a card I apparently wrote at 11 or

12, for Mother’s Day. On it I drew a rainbow and a bashful smiley face, with

text that says, “Dear Mom, I’m sorry I was so ungrateful. I hope you can

find it in your heart to forgive me, and I hope you have a wonderful Mother’s

Day in spite of me. Love, Mel.â€

Her present-day birthday note to me is: “If you see the girl who wrote this,

tell her she is missed.â€

____________

I’m sitting in my dad’s office, trying to explain Borderline to him. We

don’t have a lot of these kinds of talks, but my mother has called him and

they’ve had an apparently tearful conversation about how I’m being a mean,

inconsiderate, and ungrateful child. He seems concerned. When I tell him about

Borderline (which I’ve done before, but it’s never really taken seriously),

he is incredulous. He doesn’t actually say this aloud, but I can tell he

thinks I’m just blowing things out of proportion.

Finally he says, “Really, don’t you think it’s just a cultural thing?

I’ve known a lot of New York Jews in my lifetime, and she fits right into that

category ... you know, kinda loud, obnoxious, opinionated. But what’s so bad

about that?â€

“Well †" it’s not like they’re mutually exclusive,†I say, trying to

stay calm. It’s frustrating to me when the people in my life talk to her, and

then assume that I’m just being a bitch. Don’t they know me at all? Don’t

they know that I wouldn’t be putting my foot down if it weren’t serious? I

feel continually betrayed and a little humiliated by conversations like these,

where I feel I have to justify my beliefs about her behavior. I wish they would

just read Stop Walking on Eggshells like I keep telling them to do, instead of

avoiding it and thinking I’m just overreacting. I’m not overreacting †"

I’m finally responding, after years of not knowing what to do.

“The difference is that my mom’s behaviors have driven everyone out of her

life †" including me. They’re dysfunctional. They go beyond ‘normal’ loud

person behavior.â€

“You know, she is your mother,†he says. “You really ought to be good to

her, too. Can’t you just call her and say whatever it is she wants you to say,

just so it’s over? I know with my brother … I mean I can tell you one

thing, from my own family dysfunction. These rifts, they don’t … they

don’t just go away. Someone has to do something, has to come over to the other

side, otherwise it just stays like that for years †" for a lifetime.â€

“Well, first of all, it’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve suggested we

go to mediated therapy together for a solid six months,†I say. I do see his

point, but it always angers me to watch other people minimize her behaviors and

then tell me it’s my responsibility to fix it. What about me? Why shouldn’t

she be apologizing to me for all the screaming fits, the blaming rages, the

harsh and despicable language? Why should I be the person that’s expected to

reach out across this gulf that has been created, why does everyone always

assume that she is the passive victim, that she has no say in what happens, that

it’s all up to me to repair?

“Also, don’t you think that in some ways, it actually is up to the parent

to model what it is to be the bigger person? I’m not saying always, but it

seems like in a lot of cases, like in your family †" it shouldn’t be blamed

on the kid. The kid wasn’t the one that was beating people. That was the dad.

The kid wasn’t the one causing the damage in the family, he was just the one

that couldn’t take it anymore and acted out because of it. Isn’t that kid

owed an apology, rather than the other way around?â€

There is a pause. He shakes his head, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Finally he says, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just know that if it’s not

fixed, it doesn’t fix itself. It stays that way for years, decades. It can be

like that til someone dies.â€

We both contemplate that scenario for a moment.

“Seriously, though, Dad,†I say in a small voice, “Why did you leave?â€

I’m referring to the fact that he and my mom split up when I was two. I’ve

never asked before.

He considers the question. Finally, “I couldn’t take the yelling.â€

Yeah, I think. Me neither.

____________

Also, a major - MAJOR - part of my recovery process was this group, and I want

to include several postings from here. I am wondering if the people who posted

them would be willing to allow me to reprint them. I can change the names (or

not), depending on how much you all want to be included. Specifically, I have

excerpts from:

Kyla

Sylvia

Maggie

Sara Jo

drlngirl

' daughter, who wrote a very poignant letter to her uncle. I can't

remember your name - if you're on here, will you please reply?

You can reach me either through this board or at mbcurtin@.... I'm also

looking for a publisher, so if anyone has any leads, that would be much

appreciated. I believe there's an Eggshells press, which I will probably try, or

I may self-publish.

THANK YOU for keeping the hope alive with this forum. You all changed my life.