Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 ha...STOCKING STUFFERS. I can only imagine the terror some child would encounter to find *stalking* stocking stuffers on Christmas morning... > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Oh boy Bink - I don't know if she could differentiate you from her enough to love you. I'm still skeptical. But every BPD is different. My nada only loved me when someone was looking - or if she saw it as a way to get something she wanted. On Wed, May 18, 2011 at 12:13 AM, BINK! wrote: > > > ha...STOCKING STUFFERS. > > I can only imagine the terror some child would encounter to find *stalking* > stocking stuffers on Christmas morning... > > > > > > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself > feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell > they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: > all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who > they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday > or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, > it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending > for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I > can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from > waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression > for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious > toll on him). > > > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept > because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to > keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time > I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach > churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, > let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... > They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for > once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, > when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that > really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, > and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, > just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going > wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a > present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in > the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion > that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how > excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom > thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, > " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same > script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? > Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the > near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time > that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me > would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must > not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like > she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings > that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved > me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, > " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so > much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, > because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a > relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that > she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the > mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain > simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their > lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope > they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and > inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that > about my future. > > > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of > functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with > other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with > authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I > never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with > myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put > up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even > the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE > DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just > a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and > then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back > out of it. > > > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, > so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional > turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm > ever going to have to deal with. > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Yeah, I'm back to that 99% of the time that I agree with you this morning, but I am stuck with the overwhelming sense of pity still. Blah. > > > > > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > > > > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > > > > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself > > feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell > > they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: > > all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who > > they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday > > or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, > > it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending > > for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I > > can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from > > waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression > > for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious > > toll on him). > > > > > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept > > because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to > > keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time > > I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach > > churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, > > let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... > > They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for > > once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, > > when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that > > really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, > > and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, > > just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going > > wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a > > present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in > > the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion > > that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how > > excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom > > thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > > > > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, > > " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same > > script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? > > Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the > > near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time > > that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me > > would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > > > > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must > > not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like > > she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings > > that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved > > me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, > > " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so > > much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, > > because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a > > relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that > > she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the > > mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain > > simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > > > > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their > > lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope > > they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and > > inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that > > about my future. > > > > > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of > > functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with > > other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with > > authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I > > never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with > > myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put > > up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even > > the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE > > DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just > > a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and > > then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back > > out of it. > > > > > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, > > so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional > > turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm > > ever going to have to deal with. > > > > > > > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Actually, I thought " stalking stuffers " was intentional, not to mention brilliant. My two cents on nada " love " : she may have thought she loved you. She failed. She would never admit that, but she failed to adequately love you, otherwise you wouldn't be in this group. The question is, do we have to give her credit for trying? And I think the answer is, it depends on what she does when confronted with the fact that she failed. The simple fact that " confronting " our nadas with such information would most likely trigger a meltdown of one form or another, my answer would be no, credit for trying doesn't count if you gave up, which is what refusing to accept responsibility fundamentally is. If a parent can absorb that information, reflect on it, and say, " Jeez, I messed up. What can I do to make it better from this point forward? " then maybe credit is due. > > > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). > > > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. > > > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. > > > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 I agree. I think that is why it was so difficult for me and took so many decades for me to finally go virtually No Contact with my nada. She wasn't, never was 100% bad. If she had been, it would have been easy, or easier, to just run away and decide to have nothing to do with her at an earlier age. My nada always has been a blend, a back-and-forth, a " Jekyll and Hyde " kind of individual. The " good mother " part of her kept me hooked. I've read that " intermittent reinforcement " is the basis of gambling addiction, and that is a factor in my relationship with my nada, I believe. It took decades for me to accept that she was always going to follow a period of good behavior, normal behavior, kindly behavior, with a devastating, gut-punching period of bad behavior. " Nice mom " could turn on a dime and rake me over the coals for not being good enough, not successful enough, not married or even dating. I was conditioned to just stand there while all my inadequacies and imperfections would be detailed and made fun of, my failures exposed and denigrated. I'd be called an ingrate, lazy, and worse names, accused of things I never said or did, and... everything was my fault, because she was a perfect mother and felt she deserved better. So... This is what mental illness is, folks. We have experienced live, in-person demonstrations of a dysfunctional brain. Its just that because we were *raised* by this individual from infancy, we are incapable of perceiving that her behavior is dsyfunctional and toxic to us. That is why it is a tragedy, because the child has no means of perceiving that she is being mistreated by a mentally ill person. The child has *no option* but to bond to whoever her primary caregiver happens to be. " Love " isn't supposed to be a wild roller-coaster ride of extreme, worshipful adoration or clinging neediness followed by being denigrated and despised and perhaps beaten, or rejected and humiliated. That isn't " love " , that is mental illness. -Annie > > > > > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > > > > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > > > > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). > > > > > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > > > > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > > > > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > > > > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. > > > > > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. > > > > > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Bink, I found your post so powerful. One of the reasons I don't want to be a mother myself is because I can't stand the idea of there being a child who feels about me the way I feel about my mother. And no, I don't think most mothers *want* this kind of relationship with their children, but at least for my mother, what she had inside of her was too terrifying for her ever to risk facing it by getting help, even if it would mean a better relationship with her children. Nobody wants to be born with illness or have illness inflicted on them by abusive parents, but some want health enough to do something about their problems. For most of us, our mothers will never be that person. Their fear of their problems is stronger than whatever love they may have for us. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Well put. The bottom line is that our mothers always put their own feelings/needs/fears above all else. They were not willing to admit they had a problem, not willing to seek help for it. It was *easier for them* to just continue as they were. That is their " sin " , if you want to think about it that way: " Me first, me first, me first!! " -Annie > > > Bink, I found your post so powerful. One of the reasons I don't want to be a mother myself is because I can't stand the idea of there being a child who feels about me the way I feel about my mother. And no, I don't think most mothers *want* this kind of relationship with their children, but at least for my mother, what she had inside of her was too terrifying for her ever to risk facing it by getting help, even if it would mean a better relationship with her children. Nobody wants to be born with illness or have illness inflicted on them by abusive parents, but some want health enough to do something about their problems. For most of us, our mothers will never be that person. Their fear of their problems is stronger than whatever love they may have for us. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Yeah...isn't it the truth. I hate these Pollyannas who are all " You can just decide to change, and change anything at all! All you have to do is decide to be happy! " (Stay away from the New Age section of the bookstore.) It seems like there's just dysfunction in some people's lives, period. It's like a tether tying you down. Like a dog chained in the yard, you can only go so far, and that's it. My whole family, including me, is just like this. ((((hugs)))) . Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 " Stay away from the New Age section of the bookstore.) " And the BEST LINE OF THE WEEK AWARD goes to .... YOU! Maybe that's why I told my Nada 2 years ago that her, " Unlicensed-Yurt Living on Commune Near the Buddist Temple in N. Cal Redwoods - Therapist " was full of %#$@$#%! Egads.... Lynnette > > Yeah...isn't it the truth. I hate these Pollyannas who are all " You can just decide to change, and change anything at all! All you have to do is decide to be happy! " (Stay away from the New Age section of the bookstore.) > > It seems like there's just dysfunction in some people's lives, period. It's like a tether tying you down. Like a dog chained in the yard, you can only go so far, and that's it. My whole family, including me, is just like this. > > ((((hugs)))) > > . > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 This was hard. Just he depth of sadness is hard to bear. I wish I had some answers for you but I'm letting you know I heard you and I empathize. I see my mother as an evil person and it is easier that way. The argument isn't hard to make in my case. ---------- Please excuse any typos or terseness, this message was sent from a mobile device. Why am I crying? I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Not to be argumentative but that " positivity " isn't all cap. I don't like new agey stuff that blames the victim but life is not easy for anyone. My brain naturally takes itself to negativity and fear. I have to tell my brain " shut up have some gratitude, the love you need is inside you at all times " I crave crave love all the time. ---------- Please excuse any typos or terseness, this message was sent from a mobile device. Re: Why am I crying? " Stay away from the New Age section of the bookstore.) " And the BEST LINE OF THE WEEK AWARD goes to .... YOU! Maybe that's why I told my Nada 2 years ago that her, " Unlicensed-Yurt Living on Commune Near the Buddist Temple in N. Cal Redwoods " was full of %#$@$#%! Egads.... Lynnette > > Yeah...isn't it the truth. I hate these Pollyannas who are all " You can just decide to change, and change anything at all! All you have to do is decide to be happy! " (Stay away from the New Age section of the bookstore.) > > It seems like there's just dysfunction in some people's lives, period. It's like a tether tying you down. Like a dog chained in the yard, you can only go so far, and that's it. My whole family, including me, is just like this. > > ((((hugs)))) > > . > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Too much New Agey stuff tells you that " you control everything by what you believe and how you feel about it. " Seen it, read it, believed it, suffered the consequences. I'm not talking about " love " here, just the real chances people have, economically and in the world, to make their own lives what they themselves want. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Thanks everybody for your responses. This is a really hard topic for me to deal with, as I'm sure it causes all of us great pain to grapple with the idea of parents and their feelings towards us when they shift so rapidly and extremely. I don't know if you guys have been keeping tabs on my posts lately, but I've been trying to deal with the idea of the inner child. While it is very difficult to deal with mine (because I'm essentially exactly the same person I was when I was 7, except I'm capable of taking care of myself without putting up with all mom's crap), it is not hard for me to imagine my mom's. Is that weird? It's almost like looking at a dog and going, " I bet you were the CUTEST puppy... " There are some times, especially when she's being silly with her animals where I just go, " How could somebody be mean to a kid like this? " (My mom suffered abuse and neglect from an alcoholic father and a self-centered mother.) Is this just my childhood empathetic grooming kicking into high gear? Is it normal for me to understand my mom's emotional wants and needs more than my own? It's just so much easier for me to be able to see inside other people than it is to see inside myself. > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 How about " follow your bliss " ? Is there anything that you enjoy while you do it. I consider myself a " weird " person. Some like me some don't. But I really enjoy costumes and my dogs. Yes there will always be negative things but if life is joyless maybe there's something that can be done to enjoy the present a little more. I ache on a regular basis for love BUT there are pleasures to be had anyway. ---------- Please excuse any typos or terseness, this message was sent from a mobile device. Re: Why am I crying? Too much New Agey stuff tells you that " you control everything by what you believe and how you feel about it. " Seen it, read it, believed it, suffered the consequences. I'm not talking about " love " here, just the real chances people have, economically and in the world, to make their own lives what they themselves want. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 Rambling... I think that what Roganda might be getting at is the idea that following your bliss isn't as simple as just making a decision to do so. There are economic and social concerns that must be met or managed before one can begin to follow one's bliss. Take " Eat, Pray, Love, " for example. I can't stand this story. (To people who like it, I am sorry. I truly do not mean to take away any of the positives you got from watching/reading this story, but it did not resonate with me. Instead, it was like plucking a dead string on a guitar: it buzzed, then fizzled out.) The fact that it's a real life story pisses me off even more. Who has the time or the money to go on a soul-searching quest to far away lands to stuff your face, zone out, and build houses for abused women? Come on?! It's one of the most classist, elitist things I've seen in a long time (watched the movie, didn't read the book, but my mom-in-law HATED it). And when you say " follow your bliss, " do you mean like, entrepeneurially or just as a hobby? Some people go whole-hog and shoot for the stars. Others have kids, mortgage payments, codependent spouses and family members, etc that are just freaking hard to shake or even manage. If following your bliss is feeding bread to birds on the beach, then you can probably manage to achieve that. If following your bliss means being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, good luck... I'm not going to say don't try, I am just recognizing the reality that something so competitive will be hard to attain. A positive outlook might help, but it's going to take a lot more to see a goal like that through to the end, you know? Having said all that, I personally believe that you should do everything within your power to structure your life in such a way that you can follow your bliss and put the time into finding out what that bliss is. Positives and negatives, you need them both. Negative does not necessarily mean joyless, and positive does not necessarily mean joyful. If you buy into a concept hook, line, and sinker without giving it critical thought, you're probably not going to be following your bliss whether the message is positive or negative. Believing that something good is going to come to you without the realization that work is a necessary component of achieving your goal is going to leave you dissatisfied and possibly isolated from people because of things like the idea that each of us experiences our own reality and there is nothing objectively true about the world. Now I'm no objectivist, but I do believe in the scientific method. That's about as new age as I get, I guess. Try it. If it doesn't work, change something until you isolate the right variable. That's how I try to live anyway. > > How about " follow your bliss " ? Is there anything that you enjoy while you do it. I consider myself a " weird " person. Some like me some don't. But I really enjoy costumes and my dogs. Yes there will always be negative things but if life is joyless maybe there's something that can be done to enjoy the present a little more. I ache on a regular basis for love BUT there are pleasures to be had anyway. > > ---------- > Please excuse any typos or terseness, this message was sent from a mobile device. > > Re: Why am I crying? > > Too much New Agey stuff tells you that " you control everything by what you believe and how you feel about it. " > > Seen it, read it, believed it, suffered the consequences. > > I'm not talking about " love " here, just the real chances people have, economically and in the world, to make their own lives what they themselves want. > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 18, 2011 Report Share Posted May 18, 2011 I think you're just being a normal, empathetic human being. Its damned hard to strike a balance, a healthy balance, between empathy and self-protection when we're talking about our own abusive bpd mother. We have no objectivity in our own case; its very difficult to have distance and perspective, aka objectivity, when you're looking at your own self and your relationship with your own mother. I understand that my mother believes that she had a horrible childhood of physical abuse and emotional neglect, but, my own experiences of my mother's parents and my experience of her siblings and their families was diametrically opposed to my mother's version of reality. My own mother is the *only* adult whom I ever saw have red-faced, screaming rage tantrums and inflict verbal and physical abuse on anyone. My mother's parents were calm, kindly, loving people, who showed no signs of favoritism, no verbal or physical abuse toward me or my little Sister or toward any of my cousins. (Well, they did favor their only grandson a bit, I have to admit, but nothing traumatizing to us girl cousins.) My mother's sisters do not corroborate my nada's version of their childhood, and were in fact bewildered when my Sister told them what our mother had been feeding us for our whole lives RE her/their treatment as children. In either case, whether my mother actually was abused or she just believes that she was, receiving abuse as a child is no explanation, no reason, and no excuse to dish it out to your own children. If anything, receiving abuse at the hands of your own parents should make a person MORE empathetic to children. Being an emotionally and physically abused child made my own little Sister a very compassionate mother to her own boy. She made a point of not treating him the way she'd been treated. But... this is just me and my point of view. Maybe my compassion-ometer is burnt out where my own mother is concerned, because she has so often been the perpetrator of abuse, and has apparently lied about other people being abusive to her. I know for a fact that she has lied about having physically assaulted Sister and me; nada claims she never hit us. Nada claims that my dad used to beat her, but I never saw my dad raise a hand to anyone; he was a very calm man and would leave the house when mom started screaming at him. And, like I said, she claims that her father beat both her and her sisters often, but her sisters don't corroborate that claim. So, in my case, I think my mother is severely mentally ill, she has only a skewed, distorted way of interpreting reality (cognitive distortion/negative filter) that makes other people the villains, and she is never at fault and is always the victim. And she will lie and exaggerate and even " bear false witness " to convince others that her version of reality is true. So, my compassion and resilience are all shot to hell, I guess. If you still have empathy and compassion for your mother, then, more power to you. I admire your resilience. There is no ought or should, there is only what is, and what YOU as an individual feel you can do or want to do, in your case. -Annie > > > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). > > > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. > > > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. > > > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 19, 2011 Report Share Posted May 19, 2011 I understand your feelings. In the book The Memory Palace, the author writes that a mentally ill person still has their core personality. So, it's like there is a person with a personality and the mental illness eats away at them. I do love the mother that my nada might have been. I do wonder who that might have been. My mother is intelligent, brave, and humorous. And then there is BPD. I understand your wondering, did they wake up and intend to give a kind gift, but just couldn't do it? Was there love someone in there, in all those crazy and unstable interactions? I know there certainly was pain, and the whole thing is so confusing and complex, it's no wonder it makes you cry. Crying is healthy. Hugs, WTH Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 19, 2011 Report Share Posted May 19, 2011 Keep in mind that you were trained from the beginning to understand/cater/soothe your nada's emotions. That was our job as KO's. The nada is always first, and we are.... well I'm not going to say second because that's a stretch. Anyway, I think it's perfectly normal to feel as though we understand others more easily than ourselves. I also grapple with overwhelming and very confusing emotions around the rare memories I have of nada being kind to me. I don't know why either, but these memories are more painful. Sometimes I think it's because we're afrid to believe that the tiny, soft place inside of us that is so sensitive can be touched by such a lunatic; how vulnerable we are. I think also that it's a healthy sign that you still have feelings of empathy, vulnerability, confusion, and self-doubt. It's so the opposite of BPD.... so that has to be a good thing, no? " The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt. " -Bertrand I have also observed that some of the most intelligent (emotionally and intellectually) people I know are also the most depressed and vulnerable. I hear you BINK, we all have moments where we feel like a small child in need of a hug. I wish I could hug the snot right out of your nose today Hugs from HF. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 19, 2011 Report Share Posted May 19, 2011 I struggle with the few moments of motherliness from my nada too. It's easier to just be angry, to set up that wall and hold it it firm if I can think of her as all bad. Then every now and then she'll do something that seems like a normal mother thing but I can't take it in - instead I feel angry, skeptical, and " played " . I think that's the worst part, feeling played, knowing that she may be being nice now but in most every way that matters I still don't exist for her as other than a resource. One time I had a therapist who proposed the the good and bad moments were both equally real, and I have to say I don't think my mind can take that one in without some sort of brainquake. Hugs to you Bink, you've got lots of company. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 19, 2011 Report Share Posted May 19, 2011 Annie, I remember in one of my old psychology courses they taught about all the different kinds of reinforcement. And what you said about intermittent reinforcement is right on - they did experiments with poor little rats and by giving them the treat for pressing a lever farther and farther apart they could set it up so the rat would almost kill itself pressing the lever waiting for a treat. If the rat finally stops pressing the lever they say the behavior is " extinguished " . Related back to Bink's thread, I think that's why I feel angry when my nada does something loving because it feels like she's keeping up my training to make sure the behaviors of mine she wants don't extinguish. Then I feel like a cynical bastard for thinking that. > > I agree. I think that is why it was so difficult for me and took so many decades for me to finally go virtually No Contact with my nada. > She wasn't, never was 100% bad. If she had been, it would have been easy, or easier, to just run away and decide to have nothing to do with her at an earlier age. My nada always has been a blend, a back-and-forth, a " Jekyll and Hyde " kind of individual. The " good mother " part of her kept me hooked. I've read that " intermittent reinforcement " is the basis of gambling addiction, and that is a factor in my relationship with my nada, I believe. > > It took decades for me to accept that she was always going to follow a period of good behavior, normal behavior, kindly behavior, with a devastating, gut-punching period of bad behavior. " Nice mom " could turn on a dime and rake me over the coals for not being good enough, not successful enough, not married or even dating. I was conditioned to just stand there while all my inadequacies and imperfections would be detailed and made fun of, my failures exposed and denigrated. I'd be called an ingrate, lazy, and worse names, accused of things I never said or did, and... everything was my fault, because she was a perfect mother and felt she deserved better. > > So... This is what mental illness is, folks. > > We have experienced live, in-person demonstrations of a dysfunctional brain. Its just that because we were *raised* by this individual from infancy, we are incapable of perceiving that her behavior is dsyfunctional and toxic to us. > > That is why it is a tragedy, because the child has no means of perceiving that she is being mistreated by a mentally ill person. > The child has *no option* but to bond to whoever her primary caregiver happens to be. > > " Love " isn't supposed to be a wild roller-coaster ride of extreme, worshipful adoration or clinging neediness followed by being denigrated and despised and perhaps beaten, or rejected and humiliated. > > That isn't " love " , that is mental illness. > > -Annie > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 19, 2011 Report Share Posted May 19, 2011 Exactly: the randomly alternating good/loving/motherly behavior with the malicious/hateful/abusive behaviors destroys our ability to trust our mothers. So when the good behavior does appear, randomly, it (a) gives us that intermittent reinforcement but ( intellectually we realize that it IS just random, and we can't trust that it will be consistent or genuine. Or, worse, our trust has been so utterly destroyed that we suspect that it might even be a deliberate, planned manipulative act. Its just freaking sad, either way; any way you look at it. And yes, I've read that the rat experiments start with giving the rat a food pellet each time it presses the lever. Then, once every two or three times it presses the lever. Then, every eight times, or every 20 times. Then... just randomly. The poor damned little rat will never leave that lever, never stop pressing it until it keels over from exhaustion or dies of starvation. The " mother as your angelic rescuer AND mother as your terrifying tormentor " alternating back and forth, back and forth, over and over again is the basis for generating a " betrayal bond " , which I suspect is related to the addiction of intermittent reinforcement, as well. When mommy is both: your persecutor who punishes you harshly and scares the crap out of you, AND the one who then stops the torment and is kind to you, it can really break a child's mind and will. Its basically emotional torture; even captured terrorists are not supposed to be subjected to emotional torture (although in reality they are, or so I understand. Its illegal, but, they do it anyway.) I've read that " trauma bonding " in the specific form of the " betrayal bond " is as hard as super-glue to break free of. Think " Stockholm Syndrome " . Its a brainwashing technique, a mind-altering experience designed specifically to break the victim's willpower and make the victim compliant and eager to please their captor. Even adults can be broken by this form of emotional torture when the following conditions exist: the individual: *is kidnapped, *held in captivity and isolated from other captives (if any,) *completely helpless (in a cel, or chained, etc.) *threatened with death or hideous torture, *realizes that there is no escape, *realizes that s/he is totally, abjectly dependent on her captor to allow her very bodily functions: her captor decides if she may go to the restroom, if she may eat or drink, if she may sleep. *realizes that her very life is dependent on the whim of her captor. When the terrifying, all-powerful captor then shows some slight compassion and kindness to their captive, it can trigger the captive to revert into an infantile emotional state of *needing* to bond with their captor. Of course, there are other factors involved, such as the emotional resilience of the captive, their age, the length of the captivity, whether or not physical torture or rape is actually inflicted, whether the captive has had training to endure and survive such an incident (military or covert operative training) It helps me to be more objective about my own situation when I understand that mind-control techniques and behavioral modification techniques like " intermittent reinforcement " and " betrayal bonding " and " the Stockholm Syndrome " are quite real. And, it helps me to realize that a small child is no more prepared to defend herself against emotional torture than she is prepared or able to defend herself against a physical assault from an adult. -Annie -Annie > > > > I agree. I think that is why it was so difficult for me and took so many decades for me to finally go virtually No Contact with my nada. > > She wasn't, never was 100% bad. If she had been, it would have been easy, or easier, to just run away and decide to have nothing to do with her at an earlier age. My nada always has been a blend, a back-and-forth, a " Jekyll and Hyde " kind of individual. The " good mother " part of her kept me hooked. I've read that " intermittent reinforcement " is the basis of gambling addiction, and that is a factor in my relationship with my nada, I believe. > > > > It took decades for me to accept that she was always going to follow a period of good behavior, normal behavior, kindly behavior, with a devastating, gut-punching period of bad behavior. " Nice mom " could turn on a dime and rake me over the coals for not being good enough, not successful enough, not married or even dating. I was conditioned to just stand there while all my inadequacies and imperfections would be detailed and made fun of, my failures exposed and denigrated. I'd be called an ingrate, lazy, and worse names, accused of things I never said or did, and... everything was my fault, because she was a perfect mother and felt she deserved better. > > > > So... This is what mental illness is, folks. > > > > We have experienced live, in-person demonstrations of a dysfunctional brain. Its just that because we were *raised* by this individual from infancy, we are incapable of perceiving that her behavior is dsyfunctional and toxic to us. > > > > That is why it is a tragedy, because the child has no means of perceiving that she is being mistreated by a mentally ill person. > > The child has *no option* but to bond to whoever her primary caregiver happens to be. > > > > " Love " isn't supposed to be a wild roller-coaster ride of extreme, worshipful adoration or clinging neediness followed by being denigrated and despised and perhaps beaten, or rejected and humiliated. > > > > That isn't " love " , that is mental illness. > > > > -Annie > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 19, 2011 Report Share Posted May 19, 2011 Dear BINK, I haven't had a chance to read all the responses yet, but I wanted to quickly acknowledge that I share many of these same thoughts/feelings. It does make things so much more challenging, to a point where I wonder if it would have been easier if she had been completely and incorrigibly evil (in the purest sense of the word), then there would be less confusion, less bewilderment, less " mental acrobatics " as you so aptly termed. This is the reason why I have a significant amount of empathy, or at least sympathy, for my mother. I know she is miserable, and I know that she did not set out to live a miserable life. I know she tries and I know she believes her own twisted version of things, but even if events/memories/views are not real, her own personal misery has to be very real. In her own, often twisted way, I know she loves me. I have no doubt that if someone held us up at gun point, she would stand in front of me and take a bullet, which still does not stop her from emotionally torturing me and verbally abusing me on a fairly regular basis. It is hard to reconcile these things. The occasional burst of light - the lucid episodes (I like to call them), make things even more confusing. The few glimpses of goodness and true care. (I recently wrote a post about this very thing). I have no answers. I just wanted you to know you are not alone. Hugs, Arianna > > I am finding myself bawling tonight after reading this website. > > http://www.guesswhatnormalis.com/ > > Especially the article about the author's mother. I just find myself feeling...such pity for these mothers who obviously don't know what the hell they're doing. I mean, it's really extraordinary when you think about it: all the little instances when you can see that they're *trying* to be who they want to be. It's just unbearable to think about it that way. Birthday or Christmas presents that don't make any sense to you, but for some reason, it made your mom think of you and she bought it and wrapped it up intending for it to please you. I just don't know what it is about this thought, but I can't stop crying, so I'm silently sobbing in the living room to keep from waking up my husband (who has had to deal with me and my anxiety/depression for way too long...almost 20 years, and it's starting to take an obvious toll on him). > > I mean, I have this one Christmas card that my mom wrote me that I kept because I thought it was so over-the-top and full of crap that I just had to keep it to remind myself of how two-faced she was. I was only 12 at the time I got it, but reading all the positive things in the letter made my stomach churn. I couldn't believe my mom would write something like this about me, let alone give it to me. And I remember the stalking stuffers that year... They had all been dinosaur stuff, which I loved, and it was so odd that for once she had gotten something right. Like, I couldn't trust it. It was like, when is the other shoe going to drop? The only other present that I got that really made me feel good was my electric guitar when I was in high school, and it was such a weird feeling. It was so hard to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, she was paying a little bit of attention. So much was going wrong in my life and here was this shiny new guitar for me. I mean, a present that cost over $100? For me? How much was I going to have to pay in the long run for something like this? I just couldn't shake the suspicion that I felt...like it was going to be taken away if I really showed how excited I was to get it. But I have to think that at some point, mom thought, " You know, she's really going to like this. " > > How many of these mothers (and maybe fathers, too), wake up and decide, " Today is going to be different, " only to see it follow the exact same script as the day before and collapse at night in a crumpled pile of fail? Surely nobody WANTS to be like our moms. Nobody WANTS to deal with the near-constant threat of abandonment. To think that there was such a time that my mom loved me so much that she thought the idea of abandonment by me would be fatal is just too much to think about. > > 99% of the time, I'll argue 'til I'm blue in the face that my mother must not have loved me. How could she love me? She sure as hell didn't act like she loved me. But maybe what I've been doing is just denying these feelings that threaten to crush me: she loved me like I was a part of her. She loved me so much, and she STILL got it wrong. It's so much easier to think, " Clearly, this woman didn't have any care for my wellbeing at all. " It's so much tidier that way. It's easier for me to distance myself from that, because...well...who wants that? Who would willingly be a part of a relationship that brings on so much pain? But to argue the opposite, that she did these things to me AND ALSO LOVED ME... The contradiction, the mental acrobatics required to hold those two thoughts in my one brain simultaneously is...really difficult on many fronts. > > I mean, these women had hopes and dreams, too. They didn't want their lives to turn out like this. Nobody says, " When my kids are adults, I hope they shrink away from me in fear because of my unpredictable mood swings and inability to function on a day-to-day level. " I sure as hell don't hope that about my future. > > And yet, look at me? One would hardly argue that I am a model of functionality. On my best days, I'm liable to have faulty interaction with other humans. I can't keep a job because I've got some deep-seated beef with authority figures that I can't seem to shake. I have no sense of future... I never even planned on being alive this long. I don't know what to do with myself! And my husband is patient and loyal, but how long is he going to put up with this crap of me being unmotivated and having no energy to do even the simplest things? I mean, for god's sake...WHY CAN'T I EVEN WASH THE DISHES EVERY DAY?! It seems like such an insignificant thing, but it's just a thousand little insignificant things that pile up and never get done and then I am up to my armpits in failure and I need help digging myself back out of it. > > I'm rambling, and I'm soggy, and I can't breathe through my nose anymore, so I'm going to try to wrap this up into a coherent ball of emotional turmoil. My mom loved me and that's probably one of the hardest things I'm ever going to have to deal with. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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