I'm new here...

[Guest guest]

I just wanted to say thank you for having a group like this! I happened into it

from the website for the new book on the subject. I cannot believe there are so

many other adult children of BPO parents. Many of you can probably relate to the

sense of isolation; I grew up the only child of a widow who was the " black

sheep " of the family. She had moved 100 miles away from her family of origin,

and kept me isolated from my father's family (as well as from any other adult

who showed any caring interest in me). Sound familiar, anyone? So when I

stumbled across this group, I just couldn't believe it. Other people who have

" parented " their own parents while growing up?

My mother was never diagnosed, because she avoided at all costs any sort of

psychiatric or psychological help offered. No head-shrinkers for her--there was

nothing wrong with her. They were the crazy ones. I therefore lived through her

constant cycle of boyfriends, new friends, friends-becoming-enemies overnight,

job losses, angry outbursts that could be nothing or turn into hour-long

tirades, accusations, verbal and emotional abuse. Emotional neglect until she

was lonely and needed affection or a shoulder to cry on. Verbal cruelty until

she needed something to brag about, so I'd be transformed into the perfect

daughter. Her agoraphobia, fear of being alone, and several suicide attempts.

Her impulsivity and lack of judgment extended to her health; she was a highly

non-compliant diabetic, had had multiple back surgeries, smoked, and was grossly

obese, as well as depressed (again she disagreed with her doctor on this one, he

was just being stupid).

I'd like to say that I found the strength to create healthy boundaries for

myself and enforced them with my nada, but the truth is I was rescued by her

untimely death at 53. Her own bad choices had done her in. I still wish I could

say that I was sorry she was gone. I don't feel bitter or angry anymore (years

of therapy), but I will never know if I could have stood up to her. When she

died, I was a broken human being, unable to even say the word no to someone

without experiencing guilt and fear. BPD is a disorder, but what is the name for

our disorder?

Anyway, I've come a long way since her death. I can trust people (to a healthy

degree), can feel connected to others without people-pleasing, I can make

decisions without hearing a million differing opinions telling me I'm WRONG

again. I've even gotten to the point where I can look at the way I perceive the

world and not feel like its all outside of my ability to accept, or change, if I

choose. I can see the ways that I am and not instantly affix her face there. I

am happy to have found others with similar experiences because it makes me feel

like less of a freak. I have deliberately avoided talking about the years 0-18

with anyone unless I've known them for years, because I am still afraid that

they wouldn't believe some of the crazy stories, or wouldn't understand the

impact of those experiences.