Re: can bpd's really love?

[Guest guest]

So sorry . I was feeling sorry for myself today thinking how torn I am

about even attempting to see my FOO over the holidays. What backstabbing will

nada try this year? But I am sure that a memory like that of Christmas eve

would push me even further over the edge. I am just so sorry. I hope you find a

way to write your own holiday memories with happier circumstances.

Can they love? It is in their own, very bpd, way and it is not a normal love in

any stretch of the imagination in my opinion.

peace

patinage

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time, but

I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me. On the one hand, as

a child, she was emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me, destroyed my

friendships and relationships with her " craziness " and did it in the " name of

love. " " I am destroying you because I love you. "

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy. My therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her

own way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love in their own

way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving someone in YOUR own way is

the WRONG way.

>

> At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm still in the

" why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

> Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with abandonment issues,

with trust issues, with confidence issues. I am struggling with the holidays

approaching. Trying so hard to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it

for my husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not to think

all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in the wind. I just want

to be okay with things and right now, while it's better than the years before,

I'm not okay with things STILL.

>

> I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried to shoot herself

on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase that. My mother grabbed the gun

and ran into the bathroom threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get

my father to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue " her. I

was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember all day on Christmas

was spent with my uncle and my grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The

suicidal mother who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

> I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought to myself....I

hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and the horse it rode in on. I think

my mother could have been a serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have

been this affected by it.

>

> (

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

So sorry . I was feeling sorry for myself today thinking how torn I am

about even attempting to see my FOO over the holidays. What backstabbing will

nada try this year? But I am sure that a memory like that of Christmas eve

would push me even further over the edge. I am just so sorry. I hope you find a

way to write your own holiday memories with happier circumstances.

Can they love? It is in their own, very bpd, way and it is not a normal love in

any stretch of the imagination in my opinion.

peace

patinage

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time, but

I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me. On the one hand, as

a child, she was emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me, destroyed my

friendships and relationships with her " craziness " and did it in the " name of

love. " " I am destroying you because I love you. "

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy. My therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her

own way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love in their own

way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving someone in YOUR own way is

the WRONG way.

>

> At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm still in the

" why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

> Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with abandonment issues,

with trust issues, with confidence issues. I am struggling with the holidays

approaching. Trying so hard to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it

for my husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not to think

all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in the wind. I just want

to be okay with things and right now, while it's better than the years before,

I'm not okay with things STILL.

>

> I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried to shoot herself

on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase that. My mother grabbed the gun

and ran into the bathroom threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get

my father to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue " her. I

was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember all day on Christmas

was spent with my uncle and my grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The

suicidal mother who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

> I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought to myself....I

hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and the horse it rode in on. I think

my mother could have been a serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have

been this affected by it.

>

> (

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

,

Personally, I don't believe they're capable of what the rest of

us call " love " . I think that loving someone else requires caring

about that person to an extent that they're not capable of

doing. They're too wrapped up in their own desires and emotions

and can't put them aside long enough to love anyone else. If you

can't ever put someone else's wants and needs before your own, I

don't think you can love because that's part of what love is

about. Where my nada is concerned, " love " seems to be more about

finding someone useful and willing to do her bidding than about

what the rest of us call love. She cares about other people, but

she cares more about what they can do for her and whether she

can bask in their reflected glory when they do good things than

about them as individuals. To her that is love and I don't think

she understands that other people mean something different when

they talk about love.

Unless your definition of " love " includes some pretty hateful

feelings and behavior, I don't think it is right to say she

loved you in her own way. She may have loved you by her own

definition of love, but that doesn't make her definition

correct.

I don't think that devoting too much thought to " why did she do

this to me " is a worthwhile pursuit. The answer to that is that

she had a mental illness and wasn't capable of having normal

emotions. Trying to analyze it beyond that is likely to take you

in circles and make things worse because it just isn't possible

to make sense of something that isn't sensible to begin with.

Just like you can't use logic to discuss things with them, you

can't use logic to understand their actions.

I hope you can get past your memories and find enjoyment in

Christmas again. In my experience, it helps to overwrite

nada-related memories with better memories. When you find

yourself thinking about her threats to shoot herself on

Christmas Eve, try to force yourself to think about happier

memories of other Christmas Eves with your husband, your kids

and/or friends.

At 11:57 AM 12/11/2010 Hummingbird1298@... wrote:

>I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

>end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

>truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

>emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

>wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

>destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

>and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

>I love you. "

>

>I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

>the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

>continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

>therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

>way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

>in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

>someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

>

>At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

>still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

>Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

>abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

>I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

>to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

>husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

>to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

>the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

>while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

>things STILL.

>

>I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

>to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

>that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

>threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

>to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

>her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

>remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

>grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

>who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

>I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

>to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

>the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

>serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

>affected by it.

>

>(

>

>

--

Katrina

[Guest guest]

,

Personally, I don't believe they're capable of what the rest of

us call " love " . I think that loving someone else requires caring

about that person to an extent that they're not capable of

doing. They're too wrapped up in their own desires and emotions

and can't put them aside long enough to love anyone else. If you

can't ever put someone else's wants and needs before your own, I

don't think you can love because that's part of what love is

about. Where my nada is concerned, " love " seems to be more about

finding someone useful and willing to do her bidding than about

what the rest of us call love. She cares about other people, but

she cares more about what they can do for her and whether she

can bask in their reflected glory when they do good things than

about them as individuals. To her that is love and I don't think

she understands that other people mean something different when

they talk about love.

Unless your definition of " love " includes some pretty hateful

feelings and behavior, I don't think it is right to say she

loved you in her own way. She may have loved you by her own

definition of love, but that doesn't make her definition

correct.

I don't think that devoting too much thought to " why did she do

this to me " is a worthwhile pursuit. The answer to that is that

she had a mental illness and wasn't capable of having normal

emotions. Trying to analyze it beyond that is likely to take you

in circles and make things worse because it just isn't possible

to make sense of something that isn't sensible to begin with.

Just like you can't use logic to discuss things with them, you

can't use logic to understand their actions.

I hope you can get past your memories and find enjoyment in

Christmas again. In my experience, it helps to overwrite

nada-related memories with better memories. When you find

yourself thinking about her threats to shoot herself on

Christmas Eve, try to force yourself to think about happier

memories of other Christmas Eves with your husband, your kids

and/or friends.

At 11:57 AM 12/11/2010 Hummingbird1298@... wrote:

>I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

>end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

>truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

>emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

>wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

>destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

>and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

>I love you. "

>

>I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

>the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

>continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

>therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

>way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

>in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

>someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

>

>At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

>still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

>Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

>abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

>I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

>to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

>husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

>to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

>the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

>while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

>things STILL.

>

>I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

>to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

>that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

>threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

>to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

>her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

>remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

>grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

>who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

>I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

>to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

>the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

>serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

>affected by it.

>

>(

>

>

--

Katrina

[Guest guest]

Katrina, your description of what they might think love is sounds apt to me.

It's much more selfish than what most of us think of as love. She thinks people

don't love her if they don't totally sacrifice themselves for her, yet she would

never sacrifice anything for someone she " loves " . Strangely, she complains that

her relationships with others are all her " giving giving giving with nothing in

return " when I think it's the opposite.

The question of whether a BPD can love is similar to the question of whether any

abuser can love. It's certainly not the kind of love I feel, and it's not at all

what I would call love. Hurting those I love would hurt me more than anything

else, I could never do it. I could never torture a child the way she did, or say

the cruel things she has to someone I love.

My nada has told me before that if she hasn't hated you, she's never loved you.

Hate and love are completely intertwined with each other for her, she can't have

one without the other. I have never hated anyone in my life. Not even her,

although she's the closest I've come to hating anyone.

, your experiences with the holidays are similar to mine. I also have a

hard time enjoying holidays without remembering her dramatic " suicide attempts "

and making it all about her and how miserable she is instead of enabling us to

enjoy ourselves. She still puts on a whole ton of drama every holiday. Luckily

for me, I celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas, so it's over with now. But

she put on a big show of refusing to get out of bed even while me and my bf, my

brother and his gf, and my dad were all there for dinner. My brother went up

there to convince her how much he loves her (I don't bother with that anymore)

and when she did come down she went on and on about how horrible the food was

that she cooked and how awful we all were for showing up late (it was very icy

out and my brother took awhile to get there) and complained about a bunch of

other random shit so we couldn't " celebrate " anything but just listened to how

miserable she was. She didn't even eat.

Casey

>

> >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> >I love you. "

> >

> >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> >

> >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> >

> >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> >things STILL.

> >

> >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> >

> >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> >affected by it.

> >

> >(

> >

> >

>

> --

> Katrina

>

[Guest guest]

I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got terminally

ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE victim (not

saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit smoking 5

packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head with

the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for ME

kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was for

my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything she

did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

Re: can bpd's really love?

Katrina, your description of what they might think love is sounds apt to me.

It's much more selfish than what most of us think of as love. She thinks people

don't love her if they don't totally sacrifice themselves for her, yet she would

never sacrifice anything for someone she " loves " . Strangely, she complains that

her relationships with others are all her " giving giving giving with nothing in

return " when I think it's the opposite.

The question of whether a BPD can love is similar to the question of whether any

abuser can love. It's certainly not the kind of love I feel, and it's not at all

what I would call love. Hurting those I love would hurt me more than anything

else, I could never do it. I could never torture a child the way she did, or say

the cruel things she has to someone I love.

My nada has told me before that if she hasn't hated you, she's never loved you.

Hate and love are completely intertwined with each other for her, she can't have

one without the other. I have never hated anyone in my life. Not even her,

although she's the closest I've come to hating anyone.

, your experiences with the holidays are similar to mine. I also have a

hard time enjoying holidays without remembering her dramatic " suicide attempts "

and making it all about her and how miserable she is instead of enabling us to

enjoy ourselves. She still puts on a whole ton of drama every holiday. Luckily

for me, I celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas, so it's over with now. But

she put on a big show of refusing to get out of bed even while me and my bf, my

brother and his gf, and my dad were all there for dinner. My brother went up

there to convince her how much he loves her (I don't bother with that anymore)

and when she did come down she went on and on about how horrible the food was

that she cooked and how awful we all were for showing up late (it was very icy

out and my brother took awhile to get there) and complained about a bunch of

other random shit so we couldn't " celebrate " anything but just listened to how

miserable she was. She didn' t even eat.

Casey

>

> >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> >I love you. "

> >

> >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> >

> >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> >

> >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> >things STILL.

> >

> >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> >

> >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> >affected by it.

> >

> >(

> >

> >

>

> --

> Katrina

>

[Guest guest]

I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got terminally

ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE victim (not

saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit smoking 5

packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head with

the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for ME

kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was for

my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything she

did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

Re: can bpd's really love?

Katrina, your description of what they might think love is sounds apt to me.

It's much more selfish than what most of us think of as love. She thinks people

don't love her if they don't totally sacrifice themselves for her, yet she would

never sacrifice anything for someone she " loves " . Strangely, she complains that

her relationships with others are all her " giving giving giving with nothing in

return " when I think it's the opposite.

The question of whether a BPD can love is similar to the question of whether any

abuser can love. It's certainly not the kind of love I feel, and it's not at all

what I would call love. Hurting those I love would hurt me more than anything

else, I could never do it. I could never torture a child the way she did, or say

the cruel things she has to someone I love.

My nada has told me before that if she hasn't hated you, she's never loved you.

Hate and love are completely intertwined with each other for her, she can't have

one without the other. I have never hated anyone in my life. Not even her,

although she's the closest I've come to hating anyone.

, your experiences with the holidays are similar to mine. I also have a

hard time enjoying holidays without remembering her dramatic " suicide attempts "

and making it all about her and how miserable she is instead of enabling us to

enjoy ourselves. She still puts on a whole ton of drama every holiday. Luckily

for me, I celebrate Hanukkah instead of Christmas, so it's over with now. But

she put on a big show of refusing to get out of bed even while me and my bf, my

brother and his gf, and my dad were all there for dinner. My brother went up

there to convince her how much he loves her (I don't bother with that anymore)

and when she did come down she went on and on about how horrible the food was

that she cooked and how awful we all were for showing up late (it was very icy

out and my brother took awhile to get there) and complained about a bunch of

other random shit so we couldn't " celebrate " anything but just listened to how

miserable she was. She didn' t even eat.

Casey

>

> >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> >I love you. "

> >

> >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> >

> >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> >

> >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> >things STILL.

> >

> >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> >

> >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> >affected by it.

> >

> >(

> >

> >

>

> --

> Katrina

>

[Guest guest]

Your poor grandmother, OMG. Brought into her daughter's home only for the

purpose of being publicly humiliated as a burden with no means of escape. How

horrible for her, and for all of you. I wish you'd all had the courage to just

walk out " en mass " , leave nada to have Christmas dinner by herself, and taken

Grandma out to dinner at a nice restaurant for a joyful, peaceful Christmas

dinner with you. But our nadas have this weird power over us, somehow; over the

whole family. No matter how nasty nada behaves, we feel compelled to just

endure it.

That's the sort of thinking my nada does, too. Its like, " I worked my fingers

to the bone to make you all this nice dinner, so that means I get to insult you

and shame you: its my payment. " As though love is a transaction: I'm willing to

give, but what's in it for me?

My nada also thinks that giving nice presents is the same as love.

Nada and dad always took care of me and Sister in that they gave us a nice house

to live in, nice clothes, good food, medical care... that sort of thing. But

nada also gave us extreme emotional abuse, and dad let her.

I would take simply rational, kind, empathetic, healthy behavior any day over

material displays of " love. " They are not the same thing.

In fact, receiving any gifts from nada (before I went NC) was starting to make

me feel exactly like a whore; like I was being *paid* to allow someone to

degrade and abuse me.

My definition of love is a lot like that passage that goes, " Love is patient,

love is kind... " Love is treating others the same as you yourself would like to

be treated, particularly others who have no means of defending themselves

against mistreatment: small pets, minor children, the ill and bedridden,

waitresses, clerks, etc.

So, me personally, I don't think my nada uses the same definition of love that I

do; its like we're talking in two different languages.

-Annie

> >

> > >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> > >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> > >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> > >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> > >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> > >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> > >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> > >I love you. "

> > >

> > >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> > >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> > >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> > >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> > >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> > >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> > >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> > >

> > >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> > >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> > >

> > >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> > >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> > >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> > >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> > >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> > >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> > >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> > >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> > >things STILL.

> > >

> > >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> > >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> > >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> > >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> > >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> > >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> > >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> > >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> > >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> > >

> > >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> > >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> > >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> > >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> > >affected by it.

> > >

> > >(

> > >

> > >

> >

> > --

> > Katrina

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

My treatment was exactly the same, Annie. They give gifts, you're

expected to tolerate abuse. I never thought of it as feeling like a

" whore " .....but that's exactly what it made me feel like.......Their love was

and always

has been conditional. That's NOT love, that's entrapment and slavery.

Laurie

In a message dated 12/12/2010 9:52:13 A.M. Eastern Standard Time,

anuria-67854@... writes:

Your poor grandmother, OMG. Brought into her daughter's home only for the

purpose of being publicly humiliated as a burden with no means of escape.

How horrible for her, and for all of you. I wish you'd all had the courage to

just walk out " en mass " , leave nada to have Christmas dinner by herself,

and taken Grandma out to dinner at a nice restaurant for a joyful, peaceful

Christmas dinner with you. But our nadas have this weird power over us,

somehow; over the whole family. No matter how nasty nada behaves, we feel

compelled to just endure it.

That's the sort of thinking my nada does, too. Its like, " I worked my

fingers to the bone to make you all this nice dinner, so that means I get to

insult you and shame you: its my payment. " As though love is a transaction:

I'm willing to give, but what's in it for me?

My nada also thinks that giving nice presents is the same as love.

Nada and dad always took care of me and Sister in that they gave us a nice

house to live in, nice clothes, good food, medical care... that sort of

thing. But nada also gave us extreme emotional abuse, and dad let her.

I would take simply rational, kind, empathetic, healthy behavior any day

over material displays of " love. " They are not the same thing.

In fact, receiving any gifts from nada (before I went NC) was starting to

make me feel exactly like a whore; like I was being *paid* to allow someone

to degrade and abuse me.

My definition of love is a lot like that passage that goes, " Love is

patient, love is kind... " Love is treating others the same as you yourself

would

like to be treated, particularly others who have no means of defending

themselves against mistreatment: small pets, minor children, the ill and

bedridden, waitresses, clerks, etc.

So, me personally, I don't think my nada uses the same definition of love

that I do; its like we're talking in two different languages.

-Annie

> >

> > >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> > >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> > >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> > >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> > >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> > >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> > >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> > >I love you. "

> > >

> > >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> > >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> > >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> > >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> > >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> > >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> > >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> > >

> > >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> > >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> > >

> > >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> > >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> > >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> > >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> > >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> > >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> > >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> > >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> > >things STILL.

> > >

> > >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> > >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> > >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> > >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> > >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> > >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> > >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> > >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> > >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> > >

> > >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> > >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> > >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> > >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> > >affected by it.

> > >

> > >(

> > >

> > >

> >

> > --

> > Katrina

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

>

[Guest guest]

My treatment was exactly the same, Annie. They give gifts, you're

expected to tolerate abuse. I never thought of it as feeling like a

" whore " .....but that's exactly what it made me feel like.......Their love was

and always

has been conditional. That's NOT love, that's entrapment and slavery.

Laurie

In a message dated 12/12/2010 9:52:13 A.M. Eastern Standard Time,

anuria-67854@... writes:

Your poor grandmother, OMG. Brought into her daughter's home only for the

purpose of being publicly humiliated as a burden with no means of escape.

How horrible for her, and for all of you. I wish you'd all had the courage to

just walk out " en mass " , leave nada to have Christmas dinner by herself,

and taken Grandma out to dinner at a nice restaurant for a joyful, peaceful

Christmas dinner with you. But our nadas have this weird power over us,

somehow; over the whole family. No matter how nasty nada behaves, we feel

compelled to just endure it.

That's the sort of thinking my nada does, too. Its like, " I worked my

fingers to the bone to make you all this nice dinner, so that means I get to

insult you and shame you: its my payment. " As though love is a transaction:

I'm willing to give, but what's in it for me?

My nada also thinks that giving nice presents is the same as love.

Nada and dad always took care of me and Sister in that they gave us a nice

house to live in, nice clothes, good food, medical care... that sort of

thing. But nada also gave us extreme emotional abuse, and dad let her.

I would take simply rational, kind, empathetic, healthy behavior any day

over material displays of " love. " They are not the same thing.

In fact, receiving any gifts from nada (before I went NC) was starting to

make me feel exactly like a whore; like I was being *paid* to allow someone

to degrade and abuse me.

My definition of love is a lot like that passage that goes, " Love is

patient, love is kind... " Love is treating others the same as you yourself

would

like to be treated, particularly others who have no means of defending

themselves against mistreatment: small pets, minor children, the ill and

bedridden, waitresses, clerks, etc.

So, me personally, I don't think my nada uses the same definition of love

that I do; its like we're talking in two different languages.

-Annie

> >

> > >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> > >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> > >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> > >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> > >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> > >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> > >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> > >I love you. "

> > >

> > >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> > >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> > >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> > >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> > >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> > >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> > >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> > >

> > >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> > >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> > >

> > >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> > >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> > >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> > >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> > >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> > >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> > >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> > >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> > >things STILL.

> > >

> > >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> > >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> > >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> > >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> > >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> > >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> > >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> > >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> > >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> > >

> > >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> > >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> > >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> > >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> > >affected by it.

> > >

> > >(

> > >

> > >

> >

> > --

> > Katrina

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

>

[Guest guest]

The best I've ever come up with to satisfy my own mind is the idea that they are

functioning like children - more like teenagers really. I just think of someone

who is flooded with hormones, confused about life, limited in development and

very self-focused. I consider this a form of emotional retardation. (I know

that's the wrong term.) I'm trying to say that development stopped emotionally,

even though they may appear full-grown physically and may be capable of complex

intellectual or academic reasoning.

This is the only way I can explain the lack of concern/compassion/empathy for

others.

+Coal Miner's Daughter

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time, but

I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me.

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy.

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Yes, I think the whole concept of arrested emotional development makes a lot of

sense RE personality disorder.

The whole hair-trigger temper, inappropriate and extreme anger thing is really,

really young, I think. (Those who know about normal stages of childhood

development, please correct me if I'm wrong here) but I think its like,

2-year-old behavior to have extremely low tolerance for frustration and burst

into angry rages (aka temper tantrums) because of it.

-Annie

> >

> >

> > I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time,

but I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me.

> >

> > I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy.

>

> >

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Yes, I think the whole concept of arrested emotional development makes a lot of

sense RE personality disorder.

The whole hair-trigger temper, inappropriate and extreme anger thing is really,

really young, I think. (Those who know about normal stages of childhood

development, please correct me if I'm wrong here) but I think its like,

2-year-old behavior to have extremely low tolerance for frustration and burst

into angry rages (aka temper tantrums) because of it.

-Annie

> >

> >

> > I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time,

but I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me.

> >

> > I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy.

>

> >

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Yes, I think the whole concept of arrested emotional development makes a lot of

sense RE personality disorder.

The whole hair-trigger temper, inappropriate and extreme anger thing is really,

really young, I think. (Those who know about normal stages of childhood

development, please correct me if I'm wrong here) but I think its like,

2-year-old behavior to have extremely low tolerance for frustration and burst

into angry rages (aka temper tantrums) because of it.

-Annie

> >

> >

> > I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time,

but I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me.

> >

> > I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy.

>

> >

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Isn't Christmas grand! (gag, gag) My nada was a real drama queen while my Dad

was dying. Went on and on about how hard this was on her. She'd even get mad at

him, saying he was just using her, expecting her to wait on him hand and foot

like he was the king. There were days when she refused to even cook for him.

Even after he died she would pester us about cleaning out the garage and attic

of stuff. We'd go over, try to start on it only to have her say she didn't want

to deal with it. Just leave it. Then she'd whine to the neighbors about how we

weren't helping clean out the garage even though she had mentioned it to us

several times and we knew it was important to her (poor little miss).

Eventually we got it cleared out, hauled stuff to the dump (at our expense) and

organized. Now she brags about what a good job " she " did on fixing up the

garage. (gag, gag)

Today she wanted me to help her with some gift cards. Last week she gave me

money to buy some Taco Bell gifts cards for myself. I had to hand them over to

her of course. This week she wanted me to figure a way to wrap them. I asked,

" Are these the cards you bought for me? " You never know with her. She can

conveniently forget things and give them to others. But yes, these were for me.

I told her to just put them in an envelope. She wanted to do more. I said put

some stickers on it to decorate it then.

She got an envelope, had a big pile of free address labels. She was picking out

those with snowmen and such on them. I saw one batch that had pretty birds on

them. I said, " Oh, those are pretty. " She said, " Yeah, those are my favorite, I

save those for special people. " And back into the pile they went.

So first off she has no " special " friends and second, I'm not special enough for

the pretty address labels. She got the winter labels picked out, chose one,

clipped off her name and address and handed it to me. I stuck it on and that's

all I got, one sticker. Then she told me to write my name on it. Happy Frickin'

Christmas to me. (gag, gag).

If it wasn't for learning about BPD this year and visiting this site now, I

would have been really hurt and angry. As it is, I just shake my head and

realize she's a fruitcake and not a sweet one at that.

>

>

> I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

>

> But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

>

> I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got terminally

ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE victim (not

saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit smoking 5

packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

>

> As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head

with the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for

ME kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was

for my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything

she did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Isn't Christmas grand! (gag, gag) My nada was a real drama queen while my Dad

was dying. Went on and on about how hard this was on her. She'd even get mad at

him, saying he was just using her, expecting her to wait on him hand and foot

like he was the king. There were days when she refused to even cook for him.

Even after he died she would pester us about cleaning out the garage and attic

of stuff. We'd go over, try to start on it only to have her say she didn't want

to deal with it. Just leave it. Then she'd whine to the neighbors about how we

weren't helping clean out the garage even though she had mentioned it to us

several times and we knew it was important to her (poor little miss).

Eventually we got it cleared out, hauled stuff to the dump (at our expense) and

organized. Now she brags about what a good job " she " did on fixing up the

garage. (gag, gag)

Today she wanted me to help her with some gift cards. Last week she gave me

money to buy some Taco Bell gifts cards for myself. I had to hand them over to

her of course. This week she wanted me to figure a way to wrap them. I asked,

" Are these the cards you bought for me? " You never know with her. She can

conveniently forget things and give them to others. But yes, these were for me.

I told her to just put them in an envelope. She wanted to do more. I said put

some stickers on it to decorate it then.

She got an envelope, had a big pile of free address labels. She was picking out

those with snowmen and such on them. I saw one batch that had pretty birds on

them. I said, " Oh, those are pretty. " She said, " Yeah, those are my favorite, I

save those for special people. " And back into the pile they went.

So first off she has no " special " friends and second, I'm not special enough for

the pretty address labels. She got the winter labels picked out, chose one,

clipped off her name and address and handed it to me. I stuck it on and that's

all I got, one sticker. Then she told me to write my name on it. Happy Frickin'

Christmas to me. (gag, gag).

If it wasn't for learning about BPD this year and visiting this site now, I

would have been really hurt and angry. As it is, I just shake my head and

realize she's a fruitcake and not a sweet one at that.

>

>

> I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

>

> But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

>

> I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got terminally

ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE victim (not

saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit smoking 5

packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

>

> As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head

with the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for

ME kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was

for my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything

she did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Isn't Christmas grand! (gag, gag) My nada was a real drama queen while my Dad

was dying. Went on and on about how hard this was on her. She'd even get mad at

him, saying he was just using her, expecting her to wait on him hand and foot

like he was the king. There were days when she refused to even cook for him.

Even after he died she would pester us about cleaning out the garage and attic

of stuff. We'd go over, try to start on it only to have her say she didn't want

to deal with it. Just leave it. Then she'd whine to the neighbors about how we

weren't helping clean out the garage even though she had mentioned it to us

several times and we knew it was important to her (poor little miss).

Eventually we got it cleared out, hauled stuff to the dump (at our expense) and

organized. Now she brags about what a good job " she " did on fixing up the

garage. (gag, gag)

Today she wanted me to help her with some gift cards. Last week she gave me

money to buy some Taco Bell gifts cards for myself. I had to hand them over to

her of course. This week she wanted me to figure a way to wrap them. I asked,

" Are these the cards you bought for me? " You never know with her. She can

conveniently forget things and give them to others. But yes, these were for me.

I told her to just put them in an envelope. She wanted to do more. I said put

some stickers on it to decorate it then.

She got an envelope, had a big pile of free address labels. She was picking out

those with snowmen and such on them. I saw one batch that had pretty birds on

them. I said, " Oh, those are pretty. " She said, " Yeah, those are my favorite, I

save those for special people. " And back into the pile they went.

So first off she has no " special " friends and second, I'm not special enough for

the pretty address labels. She got the winter labels picked out, chose one,

clipped off her name and address and handed it to me. I stuck it on and that's

all I got, one sticker. Then she told me to write my name on it. Happy Frickin'

Christmas to me. (gag, gag).

If it wasn't for learning about BPD this year and visiting this site now, I

would have been really hurt and angry. As it is, I just shake my head and

realize she's a fruitcake and not a sweet one at that.

>

>

> I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

>

> But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

>

> I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got terminally

ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE victim (not

saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit smoking 5

packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

>

> As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head

with the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for

ME kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was

for my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything

she did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

A baby s world is all about her. She cries when distressed, coos when

happy, and doesn t give a damn who is inconvenienced by it.

A child is still quite self centered, realizes that their are others

besides herself, and may like them or care for them and want them

around, but she is still the center of her universe. She doesnt quite

understand that others can hurt when she hits them, or that her pain and

desire is not the sum total of the universe.

Learning these things is part of the emotional maturation from a

toddler to an older child, then an adolescent, then finally an adult.

In each of these phases, the child can experience some degree of love

and affection for others, but more as she matures than when she is

immature.

Now, think of Nada as a 3 year old child in an adult body. Suddenly her

self centeredness makes sense. She loves to the extent she is able, but

until she matures beyond 3 emotionally, she will never express love in

the caring, selfless way an adult, and in particular a mother to her

child, would normally do.

Hope this helps.

Doug

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of

time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me.

On the one hand, as a child, she was emotionally absent from me. Then

when I became an adult, she wanted to control me to the point that she

was killing me, destroyed my friendships and relationships with her

" craziness " and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you

because I love you. "

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the

irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do

it week after week while sitting in therapy. My therapist says, " well,

your mom loved you in her own way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean,

do pedophiles " love in their own way " too? It's just as logical.

Sometimes loving someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

>

> At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm still

in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

> Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with abandonment

issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues. I am struggling with

the holidays approaching. Trying so hard to put on a happy face and

force myself to enjoy it for my husband, for my friends, for my kids.

And for my therapist not to think all her hard work with me is just

throwing feathers in the wind. I just want to be okay with things and

right now, while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

things STILL.

>

> I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried to shoot

herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase that. My mother

grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom threatening to shoot herself

on Christmas Eve to get my father to break the door down and make it all

about her and " rescue " her. I was 7. I remember it like it was

yesterday. I remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and

my grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother who

never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

> I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought to

myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and the horse it

rode in on. I think my mother could have been a serial killer or the

unibomber and I wouldn't have been this affected by it.

>

> (

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

You're right: it seems to help when we can stop taking the abysmal way they

treat us, personally, as though we deserve it or caused it somehow. We are

their own daughters, their own sons, yet a stranger our bpd parent might

encounter on the street gets treated with more kindness and respect. Under such

circumstances it is hard to take the mistreatment as anything *but* a very

personal attack.

It really does help to realize that borderline pd in particular is a disease or

dysfunction of interpersonal relationships. The person with bpd can be

high-functioning in public and on the job, well-thought-of, able to maintain

friendships outside the family, and only show the ugly, hateful, resentful,

sadistic side of his or her personality to those s/he feels closest to.

What a horrible condition personality disorder is. The covert abuse inflicted

by the pd parent is as insidious and toxic as any secret pedophile or secret

serial killer, in my opinion.

I hope a cure is found soon, I really do.

-Annie

> >

> >

> > I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

> >

> > But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

> >

> > I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got

terminally ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE

victim (not saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit

smoking 5 packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

> >

> > As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head

with the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for

ME kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was

for my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything

she did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

You're right: it seems to help when we can stop taking the abysmal way they

treat us, personally, as though we deserve it or caused it somehow. We are

their own daughters, their own sons, yet a stranger our bpd parent might

encounter on the street gets treated with more kindness and respect. Under such

circumstances it is hard to take the mistreatment as anything *but* a very

personal attack.

It really does help to realize that borderline pd in particular is a disease or

dysfunction of interpersonal relationships. The person with bpd can be

high-functioning in public and on the job, well-thought-of, able to maintain

friendships outside the family, and only show the ugly, hateful, resentful,

sadistic side of his or her personality to those s/he feels closest to.

What a horrible condition personality disorder is. The covert abuse inflicted

by the pd parent is as insidious and toxic as any secret pedophile or secret

serial killer, in my opinion.

I hope a cure is found soon, I really do.

-Annie

> >

> >

> > I remember the last Christmas dinner we had at my mother's. It was my

grandmother's last Christmas as she died the following year. She was in a

nursing home and my mother and father brought her to the house for Christmas.

She was in a wheelchair and if she even asked for a glass of water, my mother

made all the dramatics begin....running around, rolling her eyes, throwing her

hands up, and claiming she couldn't enjoy Christmas because all she was doing

was being 'caregiver.' It was ri.dic.u.lous.

> >

> > But the prior Christmases weren't much different. It was always filled with

drama of some kind -- arguing, drunk uncles ruining everything. It was a mess.

> >

> > I didn't think my mother's BPD could get any worse and then she got

terminally ill. Oh.my.God. It was horrendous then. She was then the ULTIMATE

victim (not saying she deserved to be ill, but she's the one who wouldn't quit

smoking 5 packs a day). Maybe I am harsh, uncaring, but I was so sick of the

victimization syndrom that I absolutely couldn't stand the sight of her in the

end. I'm sure that makes me sound awful.

> >

> > As for them being able to love -- I think someone hit the nail on the head

with the fact that their love is merely a selfish, what can me loving you do for

ME kind of love. I felt like when I was dressed semi okay as a child, it was

for my mother to get the praise, not for her children to look nice. Everything

she did for me feels like it had something in it for her.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

I've wondered that myself (as I'm sure lots of people have!) What my T said to

me of my nada was, " That's a good question. Since she was unpredictable,

conditional, with her love, you have to wonder: had you been any different a

person or child, would she have loved you less? Expressed affection less? Been

worse more often? " These are depressing questions to ask, but I feel very

strongly that the answers are yes, yes, yes.

Sometimes in my [unpleasant] interactions with my nada, I can't bring myself to

see her as a person (just as, like you said, a pedophile is also a person,

but...). I still hate her and resent her too much to feel the remotest pity for

her. I try to tell myself that, while she is a very dysfunctional and warped,

cruel being, she must also be CAPABLE at least of feeling love. And she has done

kind things for me. But when she does these things, I can only wonder...Does she

really do it for me? Or does she do it to make herself feel better about

herself? To stack the cards in her favor for when the Obligation Channel starts

playing again later? Why/Why/Why?

Can non-BP's ever really know? :-/

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time, but

I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me. On the one hand, as

a child, she was emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me, destroyed my

friendships and relationships with her " craziness " and did it in the " name of

love. " " I am destroying you because I love you. "

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy. My therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her

own way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love in their own

way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving someone in YOUR own way is

the WRONG way.

>

> At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm still in the

" why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

> Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with abandonment issues,

with trust issues, with confidence issues. I am struggling with the holidays

approaching. Trying so hard to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it

for my husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not to think

all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in the wind. I just want

to be okay with things and right now, while it's better than the years before,

I'm not okay with things STILL.

>

> I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried to shoot herself

on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase that. My mother grabbed the gun

and ran into the bathroom threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get

my father to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue " her. I

was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember all day on Christmas

was spent with my uncle and my grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The

suicidal mother who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

> I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought to myself....I

hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and the horse it rode in on. I think

my mother could have been a serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have

been this affected by it.

>

> (

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

I've wondered that myself (as I'm sure lots of people have!) What my T said to

me of my nada was, " That's a good question. Since she was unpredictable,

conditional, with her love, you have to wonder: had you been any different a

person or child, would she have loved you less? Expressed affection less? Been

worse more often? " These are depressing questions to ask, but I feel very

strongly that the answers are yes, yes, yes.

Sometimes in my [unpleasant] interactions with my nada, I can't bring myself to

see her as a person (just as, like you said, a pedophile is also a person,

but...). I still hate her and resent her too much to feel the remotest pity for

her. I try to tell myself that, while she is a very dysfunctional and warped,

cruel being, she must also be CAPABLE at least of feeling love. And she has done

kind things for me. But when she does these things, I can only wonder...Does she

really do it for me? Or does she do it to make herself feel better about

herself? To stack the cards in her favor for when the Obligation Channel starts

playing again later? Why/Why/Why?

Can non-BP's ever really know? :-/

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time, but

I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me. On the one hand, as

a child, she was emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me, destroyed my

friendships and relationships with her " craziness " and did it in the " name of

love. " " I am destroying you because I love you. "

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy. My therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her

own way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love in their own

way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving someone in YOUR own way is

the WRONG way.

>

> At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm still in the

" why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

> Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with abandonment issues,

with trust issues, with confidence issues. I am struggling with the holidays

approaching. Trying so hard to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it

for my husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not to think

all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in the wind. I just want

to be okay with things and right now, while it's better than the years before,

I'm not okay with things STILL.

>

> I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried to shoot herself

on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase that. My mother grabbed the gun

and ran into the bathroom threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get

my father to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue " her. I

was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember all day on Christmas

was spent with my uncle and my grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The

suicidal mother who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

> I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought to myself....I

hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and the horse it rode in on. I think

my mother could have been a serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have

been this affected by it.

>

> (

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

I've wondered that myself (as I'm sure lots of people have!) What my T said to

me of my nada was, " That's a good question. Since she was unpredictable,

conditional, with her love, you have to wonder: had you been any different a

person or child, would she have loved you less? Expressed affection less? Been

worse more often? " These are depressing questions to ask, but I feel very

strongly that the answers are yes, yes, yes.

Sometimes in my [unpleasant] interactions with my nada, I can't bring myself to

see her as a person (just as, like you said, a pedophile is also a person,

but...). I still hate her and resent her too much to feel the remotest pity for

her. I try to tell myself that, while she is a very dysfunctional and warped,

cruel being, she must also be CAPABLE at least of feeling love. And she has done

kind things for me. But when she does these things, I can only wonder...Does she

really do it for me? Or does she do it to make herself feel better about

herself? To stack the cards in her favor for when the Obligation Channel starts

playing again later? Why/Why/Why?

Can non-BP's ever really know? :-/

>

>

> I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the end of time, but

I do have to question whether my mother ever truly loved me. On the one hand, as

a child, she was emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me, destroyed my

friendships and relationships with her " craziness " and did it in the " name of

love. " " I am destroying you because I love you. "

>

> I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize the irrational

behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I continue to do it week after week

while sitting in therapy. My therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her

own way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love in their own

way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving someone in YOUR own way is

the WRONG way.

>

> At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm still in the

" why did she do this to me? " phase.

>

> Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with abandonment issues,

with trust issues, with confidence issues. I am struggling with the holidays

approaching. Trying so hard to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it

for my husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not to think

all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in the wind. I just want

to be okay with things and right now, while it's better than the years before,

I'm not okay with things STILL.

>

> I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried to shoot herself

on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase that. My mother grabbed the gun

and ran into the bathroom threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get

my father to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue " her. I

was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember all day on Christmas

was spent with my uncle and my grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The

suicidal mother who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

>

> I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought to myself....I

hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and the horse it rode in on. I think

my mother could have been a serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have

been this affected by it.

>

> (

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

My nada also thinks nice presents is the same as love. That's why giving gifts

to her was always hard, if it wasn't some expensive thing that she really liked

then we must not love her! (She's gotten a little better with that, I usually

just get her flowers and she knows I don't have much money. She likes flowers.

But she still doesn't like anything my dad gives her.)

I remember as a kid a lot of my friend were jealous of all the nice things I

had. But I was jealous of the real MOTHER they had. I couldn't explain that the

toys I had were not important at all - other kids didn't understand. They

thought my parents were awesome because they would spend lots of money on me.

I may have had lots of toys, but I didn't feel loved.

As an adult, I don't really like getting gifts. I'd much prefer a hug.

Casey

> > >

> > > >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> > > >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> > > >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> > > >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> > > >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> > > >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> > > >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> > > >I love you. "

> > > >

> > > >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> > > >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> > > >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> > > >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> > > >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> > > >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> > > >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> > > >

> > > >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> > > >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> > > >

> > > >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> > > >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> > > >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> > > >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> > > >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> > > >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> > > >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> > > >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> > > >things STILL.

> > > >

> > > >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> > > >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> > > >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> > > >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> > > >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> > > >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> > > >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> > > >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> > > >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> > > >

> > > >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> > > >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> > > >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> > > >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> > > >affected by it.

> > > >

> > > >(

> > > >

> > > >

> > >

> > > --

> > > Katrina

> > >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

[Guest guest]

My nada also thinks nice presents is the same as love. That's why giving gifts

to her was always hard, if it wasn't some expensive thing that she really liked

then we must not love her! (She's gotten a little better with that, I usually

just get her flowers and she knows I don't have much money. She likes flowers.

But she still doesn't like anything my dad gives her.)

I remember as a kid a lot of my friend were jealous of all the nice things I

had. But I was jealous of the real MOTHER they had. I couldn't explain that the

toys I had were not important at all - other kids didn't understand. They

thought my parents were awesome because they would spend lots of money on me.

I may have had lots of toys, but I didn't feel loved.

As an adult, I don't really like getting gifts. I'd much prefer a hug.

Casey

> > >

> > > >I know this could probably be debated and discussed until the

> > > >end of time, but I do have to question whether my mother ever

> > > >truly loved me. On the one hand, as a child, she was

> > > >emotionally absent from me. Then when I became an adult, she

> > > >wanted to control me to the point that she was killing me,

> > > >destroyed my friendships and relationships with her " craziness "

> > > >and did it in the " name of love. " " I am destroying you because

> > > >I love you. "

> > > >

> > > >I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that trying to rationalize

> > > >the irrational behavior of a BPD is completely futile, but I

> > > >continue to do it week after week while sitting in therapy. My

> > > >therapist says, " well, your mom loved you in her own

> > > >way. " Umm, what is THAT anyway? I mean, do pedophiles " love

> > > >in their own way " too? It's just as logical. Sometimes loving

> > > >someone in YOUR own way is the WRONG way.

> > > >

> > > >At some point, I'm going to have to let it go, but I guess I'm

> > > >still in the " why did she do this to me? " phase.

> > > >

> > > >Because I struggle now...a lot. With relationships, with

> > > >abandonment issues, with trust issues, with confidence issues.

> > > >I am struggling with the holidays approaching. Trying so hard

> > > >to put on a happy face and force myself to enjoy it for my

> > > >husband, for my friends, for my kids. And for my therapist not

> > > >to think all her hard work with me is just throwing feathers in

> > > >the wind. I just want to be okay with things and right now,

> > > >while it's better than the years before, I'm not okay with

> > > >things STILL.

> > > >

> > > >I want to enjoy Christmas without remembering my mother tried

> > > >to shoot herself on Christmas Eve. Well, hmm, let me rephrase

> > > >that. My mother grabbed the gun and ran into the bathroom

> > > >threatening to shoot herself on Christmas Eve to get my father

> > > >to break the door down and make it all about her and " rescue "

> > > >her. I was 7. I remember it like it was yesterday. I

> > > >remember all day on Christmas was spent with my uncle and my

> > > >grandmother consoling my suicidal mother. The suicidal mother

> > > >who never actually did attempt suicide, but whatever.

> > > >

> > > >I was reading online about BPD this morning and I just thought

> > > >to myself....I hate this disorder. I hate, hate, hate it and

> > > >the horse it rode in on. I think my mother could have been a

> > > >serial killer or the unibomber and I wouldn't have been this

> > > >affected by it.

> > > >

> > > >(

> > > >

> > > >

> > >

> > > --

> > > Katrina

> > >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >