Unresolved Anger -- I'm a feeder fish!

January 18, 2011

I'm 4 months since figuring out mom is bpd. I have a birthday this week so I

really sympathize with Sara--my LC BPD mom will be acknowledging the day

somehow, and I'm sure to feel like I have to do something to reward her when she

does--another opportunity for taking on guilt.

While I can finally understand just where/why she is such a manipulating, lying,

dysfunctional human being, I am starting to look at my entire life in a new

light. As I relive these painful situations, I realize how much they influenced

my inevitable choices in life. Inasmuch as I am able to let go the guilt of

never finishing college, I can see now the seeds of my limited successes in life

were sown by her social anxieties (aren't FLEAS wonderful?).

Every time I had to reject something I really wanted (athletics, band, academic

challenges/clubs) because of her manipulating me (or because I knew at age 10

she couldn't deal with anything--even sitting with other parents), the coup de

grace was having to explain to family, friends teachers and coaches that I just

'chose' to quit.

As for my direct relationship with her, most of the time I have enjoyed golden

child status--the one who emotionally supported her, talked her down, directed

her from the brink more times than I can count. But then inevitably she gets POd

and pulls the cold shoulder or maniac witch.

But since finding out about BPD, I just can't tune out to her crazy BS anymore.

I feel like my whole life I have been used like a feeder fish for her. Whatever

my dreams were, they ended at age 10. That's when I subconsciously started to

understand that I didn't count.

Is it any wonder everything I do is lacking perfection, while I'm fraught with

anxiety every time I need to accomplish something different? Then I

procrastinate, feel guilty, etc.

Before finding BPD, I considered myself pretty healthy. Now that I know how much

I wasted my opportunities by filling her emotional pit, I just feel defeated.

Used up. Without purpose. I am tired of avoiding relatives in a way to cover up

the shame of her dysfunctions.

I hate her: it's a cold, broken emotion. Nearing 50, I don't have any more time

to spare in MY LIFE to give to her. I have no more tolerance. I don't want to

argue, I just want her to go away. Or die. No more guilt or obligation,

accusations, cold shoulders. I'm done.

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