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can bpd's really love?

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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.

:o(

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