Re: A new kind of Happy

[Guest guest]

Hey LB,

Yeah, like I said, how it looks matters way more than how it feels.

In fact there is often a huge discrepancy between the two.

I am sorry you had to grow up in a crazy house. I think it is wonderful that you

are teaching your kids that people are a mix of good and bad.

The splitting in my BP Mom is such a disctinctive trait. It's scary.

Telling your kids that even mean people have some good inside, and everyone

makes mistake and it's ok, it's a huge life lesson.

And on top of things, the simple fact that you can apologize to your kids if you

fee like you've gone overboard, or got too temperamental is also a big deal in

my eyes.

It is normal, but I mean, it's just so so far from the attitude of a BP mother.

I am happy for you that you are finding your middle ground.

Coralie

[Guest guest]

Its funny, but I can feel my blood-pressure and stress levels drop the second I

look around my house at the end of a cleaning spree and think " its done " .

Cleaning for me has morphed into a type of stress relief. I enjoy it.

When we were kids and people visited, we were expected to be the waitors and run

after mum who would be FREAKING OUT at having to organise even a simple meal. We

were not able to talk to anyone, or do anything, other than be right at her side

doing anything she wanted.

When we asked to have friends over as kids, she would carry on for hours and

hours about how they were going to eat us out of house and home, that we didnt

have the money to be feeding other peoples kids, that they ate too much, that

they didnt thank her enough for the effort it took to feed them, on and on,

until I didnt ever want to ask.

When I was in primary school nada turned our place into a " farm-stay " for a

couple of years. She had overseas tourists come to stay, without realising that

the " ranch " they were going to was a small block out of the city with some

sheep. Nothing else. From a young age, us kids were the cleaners, and we were

worked hard. We slept in the shed so tourists could have our bedrooms. I liked

it because we had visitors and mum was nice while they were there. Now it just

seems rediculous.

>

> Its when the perfectionism / obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (or the

less severe plain old obsessive-compulsive disorder) takes the form of

*screaming* at the children and terrifying them, or battering them or

denigrating/humiliating/shaming them for things like not folding the towels

perfectly or not making the bed " right " and things like that when it really

starts being traumatic and damaging to the children.

>

> But then again, the more subtle behavior of forbidding a child to even have

toys in her own room is pretty severe too; that conveys the message that the

child doesn't even deserve to exist. Even convicts incarcerated in federal pens

get to decorate their damned cels, for pete's sake.

>

> Sister and I never even dreamed of asking friends over to play inside or sleep

over, that would have been WAY too stressful for nada and even if she agreed

that it was OK, it would likely have resulted in her screaming at me in front of

a friend and embarrassing the crap out of me. I'd go to sleepovers at friends'

houses and play at their houses because it was too anxiety-drenched and

potentially disastrous to have them over to my parent's house.

>

> And don't get me started on the abnormal levels of stress, anxiety and

perfectionist cleaning rituals we'd be subjected to if nada and dad wanted to

have a dinner party or something. It gives me a headache just thinking about

it. It made me never want to entertain friends in my home as an adult, ever.

I'm glad that in late middle age I have finally got over that phobia.

>

> My nada would also use chores as punishment and as a form of humiliation.

Its probably not so surprising that when my Sister and I each left home and each

had our own place, we (without consulting each other) went through a

horrible-slob / filthy-disorganized-clutter phase for several years. Both of

us, it seems, chose to " rebel " in the same way, by basically flipping nada the

finger RE her housekeeping perfectionism. And maybe we were both hoping that it

would be " nada bane " , that nada would never want to come visit us! Ha! That

just occurred to me as a distinct possibility.

>

> See, to me, its normal and healthy to want to have your home neat, clean and

organized, its the extremism or obsessiveness about it to the point where

verbally abusing the spouse and kids and shrieking at them about it that it

becomes a mental disorder.

>

> Personality-disordered individuals seem to fall into the extreme end of a

given behavior. We've had threads of discussion before about this being the

common factor: extremism.

>

> Apparently a lot of nadas fall into the other extreme end and live in

shockingly filthy squalor: they allow their child's home to become a

vermin-infested garbage dump and fire-trap, to the point where neighbors call in

complaints to the health department because of the rats or the stench.

>

> Either extreme is an unpleasant and stressful environment for a child, but at

least the hyper-clean nadas' kids won't get bitten by rats while they sleep.

>

> -Annie

[Guest guest]

> When we were kids and people visited, we were expected to be the waitors and

run after mum who would be FREAKING OUT at having to organise even a simple

meal. We were not able to talk to anyone, or do anything, other than be right at

her side doing anything she wanted.....

Reminds me of my Grad party. People were going on and on how well mannered I was

and how I made sure everybody had drinks and all the food trays were loaded and

I was cooking like a maniac...well they didn't know why. I wasn't even able to

enjoy my own party because nada was too busy talking bad about me behind my back

oh I mean socializing at my party. haha

LB

> >

> > Its when the perfectionism / obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (or

the less severe plain old obsessive-compulsive disorder) takes the form of

*screaming* at the children and terrifying them, or battering them or

denigrating/humiliating/shaming them for things like not folding the towels

perfectly or not making the bed " right " and things like that when it really

starts being traumatic and damaging to the children.

> >

> > But then again, the more subtle behavior of forbidding a child to even have

toys in her own room is pretty severe too; that conveys the message that the

child doesn't even deserve to exist. Even convicts incarcerated in federal pens

get to decorate their damned cels, for pete's sake.

> >

> > Sister and I never even dreamed of asking friends over to play inside or

sleep over, that would have been WAY too stressful for nada and even if she

agreed that it was OK, it would likely have resulted in her screaming at me in

front of a friend and embarrassing the crap out of me. I'd go to sleepovers at

friends' houses and play at their houses because it was too anxiety-drenched and

potentially disastrous to have them over to my parent's house.

> >

> > And don't get me started on the abnormal levels of stress, anxiety and

perfectionist cleaning rituals we'd be subjected to if nada and dad wanted to

have a dinner party or something. It gives me a headache just thinking about

it. It made me never want to entertain friends in my home as an adult, ever.

I'm glad that in late middle age I have finally got over that phobia.

> >

> > My nada would also use chores as punishment and as a form of humiliation.

Its probably not so surprising that when my Sister and I each left home and each

had our own place, we (without consulting each other) went through a

horrible-slob / filthy-disorganized-clutter phase for several years. Both of

us, it seems, chose to " rebel " in the same way, by basically flipping nada the

finger RE her housekeeping perfectionism. And maybe we were both hoping that it

would be " nada bane " , that nada would never want to come visit us! Ha! That

just occurred to me as a distinct possibility.

> >

> > See, to me, its normal and healthy to want to have your home neat, clean and

organized, its the extremism or obsessiveness about it to the point where

verbally abusing the spouse and kids and shrieking at them about it that it

becomes a mental disorder.

> >

> > Personality-disordered individuals seem to fall into the extreme end of a

given behavior. We've had threads of discussion before about this being the

common factor: extremism.

> >

> > Apparently a lot of nadas fall into the other extreme end and live in

shockingly filthy squalor: they allow their child's home to become a

vermin-infested garbage dump and fire-trap, to the point where neighbors call in

complaints to the health department because of the rats or the stench.

> >

> > Either extreme is an unpleasant and stressful environment for a child, but

at least the hyper-clean nadas' kids won't get bitten by rats while they sleep.

> >

> > -Annie

>

[Guest guest]

I am very emotional today reading your posts also I spoke to that producer about

my in law hot mess.

In your posts It's that drop of slightly more normal than I had that kills me.

I feel like an alien. The coldness of my isolation and my f***upness as a

leftover of being abused by a nada in my first 18 years is an ironic tragedy.

It is unbelievable that I have to hurt for the 20 years I haven't lived under

her.

Actually, as I write this I haven't lived with her but I have lived under her.

As I recently have come to this forum and recent enough to knowing my relatives

have BPD (nada, sis, dtr). I have been drudging up stuff since going in depth

reading similarly encountered traits.

Cleaning, oh the cleaning. I remember being a preschooler and being made to

scrub floors on my hands and knees. And never was it good enough. Just last week

I awoke to the realization of why my wrists and forearms hurt so much. I am the

only person I know who has worn wrist bandages for 15 years and yes I have had

carpal surgery. I now realize it was scrubbing the floors 3 times a week. In

high school I found some strength to ask my nada why didn't she buy a mop? She

said " you do it " . I said, " but it's your floors " she said, " If I wanted a mop I

had to buy it " .

Money, needs, health issues, even focusing on

me (really me, outside of her self centeredness) were always meanly withheld.

She would beat me if I used too many of her menses pads, always. From the time

I started at age 11 with a very heavy period. She expected me to use my

allowance to buy deodorant, pads and toothpaste not that she took me anywhere to

get these things.

I was only fed minimally. She so prided herself on being superiorly thin. She

was a twin and I think this made her better than my Aunt in her eyes, She won.

She never got up in the mornings. This was good because she would rage and

beat us if she did. In Kindergarten my sister didn't move fast enough and so

nada broke an umbrella over her head. Nada never thought to put cereal where we

could reach it. As the oldest I'd stand on the counter edge, fall over to where

hopefully my fingertips could catch the refrigerator top edge and use a spatula

to knock down cereal boxes so that me, my sister and brother could eat. There

was never a lunch in all my school years(why the hell don't schools just give

kids food). When I was 4 years old I remember shifting around when my nada was

brushing my hair. It was nothing for her to hit you with the hairbrush, but

this time she really went loose and spanked me with it too. Later the doctor

made a house call. My nada called me over and pulled down my pants all concerned

saying what could this be? Look at all these spots? I told them Mom don't you

remember when you hit me with the hairbrush in you hand? She so removed her

inappropriateness that she didn't even remember.

I knew the unspoken rule " don't ever ask anything for yourself and how dare you

ever ask to have a friend? " nada was people intolerant. I wasn't worried about

embarrassment-no that would not occur to me. I was worried about me being

physically struck, beaten and/or my friend being verbally abused. What's

hysterical is that when I went to my fadas in high school she hired a maid. I

never realized that she would never endeavor to do the housecleaning herself!

She triangulated me, my sister(BPD also) and my much younger and favored

brother. There is no love lost between us. My FOO insured it.

In my FOO there was no veneer of goodliness outside or in, just black and white.

Neighbors knew that abuse was going on but no one would step forward and speak

the truth for fear of my nadas punishment. Our neighbors were not cowards.

Nada had already tormented them into submission.

Today I am the mother I always wanted. I go with the flow, things feel

comfortable and open in our house. I like a straightened house but I could care

less about perfection.

When we were kids and relatives visited(there were never people), we were

expected to be the servants. I was always a endentured servant and even now it's

what I chose to do because it's my comfort zone at a gathering.

Sorry it just sucks what hell she puts us through.

Sue

[Guest guest]

(((((((((Sue)))))))))

The level of emotional abuse, physical abuse and neglect, mental cruelty,

coldness and rejection you experienced at the hands of your own mother is pretty

severe. She truly treated you like an object and a possession; a thing, not a

living child.

Your mother seems to me to be one of those women who never really wanted

children, and highly resented having had them (as though she was forced to have

children against her will) and expected you, the child, to pay her back for the

privilege of existing. That is so effed-up its mind-boggling.

Its so sad that little children are so abjectly helpless in the hands of a

mentally ill parent, and must rely on some other compassionate and courageous

adult to protect them or remove them to safety. And its so sad how rarely that

seems to happen.

Your personal insight is high, now, and hopefully that will lead to healing and

peace for you, more and more every day.

-Annie

>

> I am very emotional today reading your posts also I spoke to that producer

about my in law hot mess.

> In your posts It's that drop of slightly more normal than I had that kills me.

I feel like an alien. The coldness of my isolation and my f***upness as a

leftover of being abused by a nada in my first 18 years is an ironic tragedy.

It is unbelievable that I have to hurt for the 20 years I haven't lived under

her.

> Actually, as I write this I haven't lived with her but I have lived under her.

> As I recently have come to this forum and recent enough to knowing my

relatives have BPD (nada, sis, dtr). I have been drudging up stuff since going

in depth reading similarly encountered traits.

>

> Cleaning, oh the cleaning. I remember being a preschooler and being made to

scrub floors on my hands and knees. And never was it good enough. Just last week

I awoke to the realization of why my wrists and forearms hurt so much. I am the

only person I know who has worn wrist bandages for 15 years and yes I have had

carpal surgery. I now realize it was scrubbing the floors 3 times a week. In

high school I found some strength to ask my nada why didn't she buy a mop? She

said " you do it " . I said, " but it's your floors " she said, " If I wanted a mop I

had to buy it " .

> Money, needs, health issues, even focusing on

> me (really me, outside of her self centeredness) were always meanly

withheld. She would beat me if I used too many of her menses pads, always.

From the time I started at age 11 with a very heavy period. She expected me to

use my allowance to buy deodorant, pads and toothpaste not that she took me

anywhere to get these things.

>

> I was only fed minimally. She so prided herself on being superiorly thin.

She was a twin and I think this made her better than my Aunt in her eyes, She

won.

>

> She never got up in the mornings. This was good because she would rage and

beat us if she did. In Kindergarten my sister didn't move fast enough and so

nada broke an umbrella over her head. Nada never thought to put cereal where we

could reach it. As the oldest I'd stand on the counter edge, fall over to where

hopefully my fingertips could catch the refrigerator top edge and use a spatula

to knock down cereal boxes so that me, my sister and brother could eat. There

was never a lunch in all my school years(why the hell don't schools just give

kids food). When I was 4 years old I remember shifting around when my nada was

brushing my hair. It was nothing for her to hit you with the hairbrush, but

this time she really went loose and spanked me with it too. Later the doctor

made a house call. My nada called me over and pulled down my pants all concerned

saying what could this be? Look at all these spots? I told them Mom don't you

remember when you hit me with the hairbrush in you hand? She so removed her

inappropriateness that she didn't even remember.

> I knew the unspoken rule " don't ever ask anything for yourself and how dare

you ever ask to have a friend? " nada was people intolerant. I wasn't worried

about embarrassment-no that would not occur to me. I was worried about me being

physically struck, beaten and/or my friend being verbally abused. What's

hysterical is that when I went to my fadas in high school she hired a maid. I

never realized that she would never endeavor to do the housecleaning herself!

She triangulated me, my sister(BPD also) and my much younger and favored

brother. There is no love lost between us. My FOO insured it.

> In my FOO there was no veneer of goodliness outside or in, just black and

white. Neighbors knew that abuse was going on but no one would step forward and

speak the truth for fear of my nadas punishment. Our neighbors were not

cowards. Nada had already tormented them into submission.

>

> Today I am the mother I always wanted. I go with the flow, things feel

comfortable and open in our house. I like a straightened house but I could care

less about perfection.

> When we were kids and relatives visited(there were never people), we were

expected to be the servants. I was always a endentured servant and even now it's

what I chose to do because it's my comfort zone at a gathering.

> Sorry it just sucks what hell she puts us through.

> Sue

>

[Guest guest]

Sue, Yours is a painful story, and I understand. The mop rings my bell. I always

wanted a mop too. My mom also wanted the floor scrubbed all the time, 2-3 times

a week school year but daily in the summer. We had a large house. She would not

allow mops in the house but I didn't even try for a mop what I really wanted was

a kneeling pad, but she said that was wimpy and NO Child of hers was Wimp she

was going to raise me Strong! Only hands and knees. Now I also have knee pains

even walking up stairs hurts. I will NOT scrub my floor on my hands and knees.

When I bought my own home I got a slate looking floor that hides mess:) I did

not scrub my floor for 6 months, not even once (i didn't ask my kids to either).

Then after a long while I bought a mop after I gave myself time to heal. Now I

only mop if I feel like, but I don't guilt myself for not mopping because

frankly its too painful on many levels, I will spot clean, and sweep, and

sometimes mop but no hands and knees. My grandma and aunt even recall being over

while I scrubbed and my mom kicking me in the ribs or in the butt because it was

not good enough. No, I don't have to scrub if I dont want to, and neither do

you. We did it enough as children to last a life time. LB

>

> I am very emotional today reading your posts also I spoke to that producer

about my in law hot mess.

> In your posts It's that drop of slightly more normal than I had that kills me.

I feel like an alien. The coldness of my isolation and my f***upness as a

leftover of being abused by a nada in my first 18 years is an ironic tragedy.

It is unbelievable that I have to hurt for the 20 years I haven't lived under

her.

> Actually, as I write this I haven't lived with her but I have lived under her.

> As I recently have come to this forum and recent enough to knowing my

relatives have BPD (nada, sis, dtr). I have been drudging up stuff since going

in depth reading similarly encountered traits.

>

> Cleaning, oh the cleaning. I remember being a preschooler and being made to

scrub floors on my hands and knees. And never was it good enough. Just last week

I awoke to the realization of why my wrists and forearms hurt so much. I am the

only person I know who has worn wrist bandages for 15 years and yes I have had

carpal surgery. I now realize it was scrubbing the floors 3 times a week. In

high school I found some strength to ask my nada why didn't she buy a mop? She

said " you do it " . I said, " but it's your floors " she said, " If I wanted a mop I

had to buy it " .

> Money, needs, health issues, even focusing on

> me (really me, outside of her self centeredness) were always meanly

withheld. She would beat me if I used too many of her menses pads, always.

From the time I started at age 11 with a very heavy period. She expected me to

use my allowance to buy deodorant, pads and toothpaste not that she took me

anywhere to get these things.

>

> I was only fed minimally. She so prided herself on being superiorly thin.

She was a twin and I think this made her better than my Aunt in her eyes, She

won.

>

> She never got up in the mornings. This was good because she would rage and

beat us if she did. In Kindergarten my sister didn't move fast enough and so

nada broke an umbrella over her head. Nada never thought to put cereal where we

could reach it. As the oldest I'd stand on the counter edge, fall over to where

hopefully my fingertips could catch the refrigerator top edge and use a spatula

to knock down cereal boxes so that me, my sister and brother could eat. There

was never a lunch in all my school years(why the hell don't schools just give

kids food). When I was 4 years old I remember shifting around when my nada was

brushing my hair. It was nothing for her to hit you with the hairbrush, but

this time she really went loose and spanked me with it too. Later the doctor

made a house call. My nada called me over and pulled down my pants all concerned

saying what could this be? Look at all these spots? I told them Mom don't you

remember when you hit me with the hairbrush in you hand? She so removed her

inappropriateness that she didn't even remember.

> I knew the unspoken rule " don't ever ask anything for yourself and how dare

you ever ask to have a friend? " nada was people intolerant. I wasn't worried

about embarrassment-no that would not occur to me. I was worried about me being

physically struck, beaten and/or my friend being verbally abused. What's

hysterical is that when I went to my fadas in high school she hired a maid. I

never realized that she would never endeavor to do the housecleaning herself!

She triangulated me, my sister(BPD also) and my much younger and favored

brother. There is no love lost between us. My FOO insured it.

> In my FOO there was no veneer of goodliness outside or in, just black and

white. Neighbors knew that abuse was going on but no one would step forward and

speak the truth for fear of my nadas punishment. Our neighbors were not

cowards. Nada had already tormented them into submission.

>

> Today I am the mother I always wanted. I go with the flow, things feel

comfortable and open in our house. I like a straightened house but I could care

less about perfection.

> When we were kids and relatives visited(there were never people), we were

expected to be the servants. I was always a endentured servant and even now it's

what I chose to do because it's my comfort zone at a gathering.

> Sorry it just sucks what hell she puts us through.

> Sue

>

[Guest guest]

Sue and LB, I just want to say, your stories are so profoundly moving.

It makes me so sad to think innocent kids have to go throw such abuse.

Sending you hugs,

Coralie

[Guest guest]

Sue and LB, I just want to say, your stories are so profoundly moving.

It makes me so sad to think innocent kids have to go throw such abuse.

Sending you hugs,

Coralie

[Guest guest]

Sue and LB, I just want to say, your stories are so profoundly moving.

It makes me so sad to think innocent kids have to go throw such abuse.

Sending you hugs,

Coralie

[Guest guest]

Those who weren't raised by mentally-ill parents would probably think what liz

and sue and lynnette and others are describing here (the physical pain of being

forced to scrub floors on hands and knees, being denied a mop to use or even a

kneeling pad, being kicked and punched for not doing it " right " , etc., or

starved/underfed, or forced as a small child to parent even smaller children)

sounds like something out of a nightmare fairytale: like real-life Cinderella

treatment.

(There have been posts here in earlier years about nadas who forced their child

to wash dishes by hand in scalding hot water, without even rubber gloves for

protection, and nadas who forced their child to endure having their hair put in

curling irons so hot that the child's scalp or ears get burned and bleed. All

this stuff is out-and-out physical torture and criminal child abuse.)

I think that's why fairy tales resonate from generation to generation, because

this stuff really does happen. There really are mothers who *want* to hurt

their child, who *feel entitled* to inflict pain and *feel justified* to inflict

shame and punishment on their child for God knows what reason. For being born

and merely existing? For not being perfect enough? For not " paying off " as a

kind of investment for nada? Who knows?

Maybe nadas who have children hurt their child instead of cutting themselves as

form of " self soothing " behavior.

It seems clear to me that these behaviors on nada's part have almost nothing to

do with a desire for cleanliness or the nada would be happy to buy the child a

mop to use. These behaviors have only to do with inflicting punishment and

torment and degradation.

And when other adults who witness such abuse *do nothing about it*, well, they

should be horsewhipped in my opinion. Grrr.

-Annie

> >

> > I am very emotional today reading your posts also I spoke to that producer

about my in law hot mess.

> > In your posts It's that drop of slightly more normal than I had that kills

me. I feel like an alien. The coldness of my isolation and my f***upness as a

leftover of being abused by a nada in my first 18 years is an ironic tragedy.

It is unbelievable that I have to hurt for the 20 years I haven't lived under

her.

> > Actually, as I write this I haven't lived with her but I have lived under

her.

> > As I recently have come to this forum and recent enough to knowing my

relatives have BPD (nada, sis, dtr). I have been drudging up stuff since going

in depth reading similarly encountered traits.

> >

> > Cleaning, oh the cleaning. I remember being a preschooler and being made to

scrub floors on my hands and knees. And never was it good enough. Just last week

I awoke to the realization of why my wrists and forearms hurt so much. I am the

only person I know who has worn wrist bandages for 15 years and yes I have had

carpal surgery. I now realize it was scrubbing the floors 3 times a week. In

high school I found some strength to ask my nada why didn't she buy a mop? She

said " you do it " . I said, " but it's your floors " she said, " If I wanted a mop I

had to buy it " .

> > Money, needs, health issues, even focusing on

> > me (really me, outside of her self centeredness) were always meanly

withheld. She would beat me if I used too many of her menses pads, always.

From the time I started at age 11 with a very heavy period. She expected me to

use my allowance to buy deodorant, pads and toothpaste not that she took me

anywhere to get these things.

> >

> > I was only fed minimally. She so prided herself on being superiorly thin.

She was a twin and I think this made her better than my Aunt in her eyes, She

won.

> >

> > She never got up in the mornings. This was good because she would rage and

beat us if she did. In Kindergarten my sister didn't move fast enough and so

nada broke an umbrella over her head. Nada never thought to put cereal where we

could reach it. As the oldest I'd stand on the counter edge, fall over to where

hopefully my fingertips could catch the refrigerator top edge and use a spatula

to knock down cereal boxes so that me, my sister and brother could eat. There

was never a lunch in all my school years(why the hell don't schools just give

kids food). When I was 4 years old I remember shifting around when my nada was

brushing my hair. It was nothing for her to hit you with the hairbrush, but

this time she really went loose and spanked me with it too. Later the doctor

made a house call. My nada called me over and pulled down my pants all concerned

saying what could this be? Look at all these spots? I told them Mom don't you

remember when you hit me with the hairbrush in you hand? She so removed her

inappropriateness that she didn't even remember.

> > I knew the unspoken rule " don't ever ask anything for yourself and how dare

you ever ask to have a friend? " nada was people intolerant. I wasn't worried

about embarrassment-no that would not occur to me. I was worried about me being

physically struck, beaten and/or my friend being verbally abused. What's

hysterical is that when I went to my fadas in high school she hired a maid. I

never realized that she would never endeavor to do the housecleaning herself!

She triangulated me, my sister(BPD also) and my much younger and favored

brother. There is no love lost between us. My FOO insured it.

> > In my FOO there was no veneer of goodliness outside or in, just black and

white. Neighbors knew that abuse was going on but no one would step forward and

speak the truth for fear of my nadas punishment. Our neighbors were not

cowards. Nada had already tormented them into submission.

> >

> > Today I am the mother I always wanted. I go with the flow, things feel

comfortable and open in our house. I like a straightened house but I could care

less about perfection.

> > When we were kids and relatives visited(there were never people), we were

expected to be the servants. I was always a endentured servant and even now it's

what I chose to do because it's my comfort zone at a gathering.

> > Sorry it just sucks what hell she puts us through.

> > Sue

> >

>

[Guest guest]

> I think that's why fairy tales resonate from generation to generation, because

this stuff really does happen. There really are mothers who *want* to hurt

their child, who *feel entitled* to inflict pain and *feel justified* to inflict

shame and punishment on their child for God knows what reason. For being born

and merely existing? For not being perfect enough? For not " paying off " as a

kind of investment for nada? Who knows? "

Yes, Annie, I totally relate to that. I remember clearly the fright of knowing

that my BP Mom wanted to hurt me. Be it by humiliating me, publicly or privatly,

or by physical abuse.

I just remember knowing it in my bones, that she wanted me " down " if that makes

sense, humiliated, little, hurt.

But I felt like she could switch it off too, like there was an impulsion of

destruction, but then she could go back to a merely " normal " mother the next day

Coralie

[Guest guest]

> I think that's why fairy tales resonate from generation to generation, because

this stuff really does happen. There really are mothers who *want* to hurt

their child, who *feel entitled* to inflict pain and *feel justified* to inflict

shame and punishment on their child for God knows what reason. For being born

and merely existing? For not being perfect enough? For not " paying off " as a

kind of investment for nada? Who knows? "

Yes, Annie, I totally relate to that. I remember clearly the fright of knowing

that my BP Mom wanted to hurt me. Be it by humiliating me, publicly or privatly,

or by physical abuse.

I just remember knowing it in my bones, that she wanted me " down " if that makes

sense, humiliated, little, hurt.

But I felt like she could switch it off too, like there was an impulsion of

destruction, but then she could go back to a merely " normal " mother the next day

Coralie

[Guest guest]

Mine would switch back and forth too, from being kind and loving to me, to

wanting to degrade, humiliate and punish me. I think it had to do more with

nada's own internal weather than with anything I did or didn't do.

I was merely an externalized image of herself, so if nada was happy with

herself, she was happy with me, her reflection. If nada was angry or upset, if

she was having negative feelings or felt she was " bad " or had a negative trait,

then she'd project all that onto me *and punish me for it*. She'd scream at me

and shame me or hit me instead of cutting herself.

That's my theory anyway.

That's why I think that when a bpd is as dysregulated as my nada was, her kids

are pretty much guaranteed to be traumatized and psychologically damaged when

nada projects her own self-loathing and other negative feelings onto her kids,

over and over. The kids don't exist as separate, individual human beings,

they're just reflections of nada and must be punished for having nada's bad

thoughts / bad traits.

Why this dynamic isn't obvious to psychologists and why those with bpd aren't

heavily monitored and supervised if they have kids is beyond me. I don't get

it.

Personality disorder causes child abuse, a person with bpd can't NOT abuse their

kid. They're not rational and functional enough to understand or care that

their negative acting-out behaviors, their projecting, their black-and-white

thinking, etc., inflict emotional trauma on their kids to one degree or another.

Why aren't there guidelines or rules about personality disordered people RE

childcare or child-rearing? I just don't get it.

-Annie

>

> > I think that's why fairy tales resonate from generation to generation,

because this stuff really does happen. There really are mothers who *want* to

hurt their child, who *feel entitled* to inflict pain and *feel justified* to

inflict shame and punishment on their child for God knows what reason. For

being born and merely existing? For not being perfect enough? For not " paying

off " as a kind of investment for nada? Who knows? "

>

> Yes, Annie, I totally relate to that. I remember clearly the fright of knowing

that my BP Mom wanted to hurt me. Be it by humiliating me, publicly or privatly,

or by physical abuse.

> I just remember knowing it in my bones, that she wanted me " down " if that

makes sense, humiliated, little, hurt.

> But I felt like she could switch it off too, like there was an impulsion of

destruction, but then she could go back to a merely " normal " mother the next day

>

> Coralie

>

[Guest guest]

It's all so true. The back and forth sweet then maniac, it is so fairy tale.

Before I could read I loved Cinderella and how she escaped I could look at the

book for hours just drawing her and making paper dolls. As a child I had the

words to the Cinderella movie memorized my mom of course thought this was

hysterical and would sing the Cinderella songs to me but sometimes change the

words to whatever she wanted me to clean up. And, no it was not a fun and

creative way to get me excited about cleaning, maybe in another house but not

ours.

I still love kid's fairy tales, especially Cinderella, and Alice in Wonderland,

and I am really looking forward to seeing Tangled. But now that I am not 5 years

old anymore I no longer think about being " rescued by a prince " although I am

thankful to my husband for the strengths he helped me to learn. I think of him

more as my partner, like yin and yang rather than hero and damsel. I know that

if it wasn't for me I would not be who I am today. I had to learn to save my

self, free myself and rescue myself. I know that no ending is ever perfect, but

I feel like I am living relatively happy ever after. LB

>

> > I think that's why fairy tales resonate from generation to generation,

because this stuff really does happen. There really are mothers who *want* to

hurt their child, who *feel entitled* to inflict pain and *feel justified* to

inflict shame and punishment on their child for God knows what reason. For

being born and merely existing? For not being perfect enough? For not " paying

off " as a kind of investment for nada? Who knows? "

>

> Yes, Annie, I totally relate to that. I remember clearly the fright of knowing

that my BP Mom wanted to hurt me. Be it by humiliating me, publicly or privatly,

or by physical abuse.

> I just remember knowing it in my bones, that she wanted me " down " if that

makes sense, humiliated, little, hurt.

> But I felt like she could switch it off too, like there was an impulsion of

destruction, but then she could go back to a merely " normal " mother the next day

>

> Coralie

>

[Guest guest]

It's all so true. The back and forth sweet then maniac, it is so fairy tale.

Before I could read I loved Cinderella and how she escaped I could look at the

book for hours just drawing her and making paper dolls. As a child I had the

words to the Cinderella movie memorized my mom of course thought this was

hysterical and would sing the Cinderella songs to me but sometimes change the

words to whatever she wanted me to clean up. And, no it was not a fun and

creative way to get me excited about cleaning, maybe in another house but not

ours.

I still love kid's fairy tales, especially Cinderella, and Alice in Wonderland,

and I am really looking forward to seeing Tangled. But now that I am not 5 years

old anymore I no longer think about being " rescued by a prince " although I am

thankful to my husband for the strengths he helped me to learn. I think of him

more as my partner, like yin and yang rather than hero and damsel. I know that

if it wasn't for me I would not be who I am today. I had to learn to save my

self, free myself and rescue myself. I know that no ending is ever perfect, but

I feel like I am living relatively happy ever after. LB

>

> > I think that's why fairy tales resonate from generation to generation,

because this stuff really does happen. There really are mothers who *want* to

hurt their child, who *feel entitled* to inflict pain and *feel justified* to

inflict shame and punishment on their child for God knows what reason. For

being born and merely existing? For not being perfect enough? For not " paying

off " as a kind of investment for nada? Who knows? "

>

> Yes, Annie, I totally relate to that. I remember clearly the fright of knowing

that my BP Mom wanted to hurt me. Be it by humiliating me, publicly or privatly,

or by physical abuse.

> I just remember knowing it in my bones, that she wanted me " down " if that

makes sense, humiliated, little, hurt.

> But I felt like she could switch it off too, like there was an impulsion of

destruction, but then she could go back to a merely " normal " mother the next day

>

> Coralie

>