Re: friendship troubles

[Guest guest]

Ambertolina, I related to what you said about your high-energy friends feeling

like a drug to you. I too used my friends as an escape hatch -- talking to them,

going to their houses, hanging out with them. At the time, I was not totally

conscious of this. I simply thought: They're my friends! We're kids! We hang out

together! ... But hmm, we always hung out at THEIR houses, not mine, THEIR

bedrooms and backyards, not mine.

Now I realize what I did not realize them: Their lives, their homes, felt

" normal " -- calm (even with all the siblings bickering) because no bpd parent

was in their lives. Talking to them was like suddenly getting hooked up to a

normalcy IV drip in the hospital of life.

But at the time, I did not realize that I had anything to escape. I did not

realize that a disordered person was tormenting me. I did not realize that my

constant anguish was (a) unnecessary, ( caused by my mother's issues not mine,

or © something to overcome. I thought it was justified. I thought I was so

seriously flawed and gross that it was miraculous that anyone would be friends

with me at all. With my friends, especially my best friend, I was a simpering

whimpering cowering masochistic dog, always desperate for approval, desperate to

please them. And yes, they took advantage of my low self-esteem sometimes, kids

being kids. At which point, I would tell Mom and she would blow it out of

proportion and rather than teach me how to fight back, or how to work things out

and get respect from my friends, she just sat there saying she wanted to murder

my bitch friends. She would then tell me to call these same friends and " beg the

bitches to forgive you because that's the only way out of this. "

Is it any wonder that I entered adulthood with no idea of how to treat others or

how to be respected by others?

I struggle to overcome the shame and sense of waste in all of the unnecessary,

pointless pain of those decades and decades.

Realizing that you were under the influence of a bpd parent for so long is like

realizing that you've been walking around in a weird costume and mask. You

think, Damn, I was wearing this....

And you take it off. You're naked underneath and have no idea what to wear.