Guest guest Posted April 6, 2012 Report Share Posted April 6, 2012 My older brother and I both recieved the brunt of my mothers illness. He because he was the first, dislexic and independent. Me, because I am female and she had a neglectful and mentally abusive mother. My older brother has found a way to coexist. He is there but does not engage. I think, unconsiously he has set firm boundaries. I am geographically separated and seem to be getting the full force of her discontent. She is worse now that my Dad is dying. I am her dung child. She is tormenting my Dad with how rotten I am. I think her abandonment fears have blossomed and she is railing against him through me. But he can't keep the peace. My dad is coming to my city to get experimental cancer treatments. She won't come. Partly because of the cost and partly because of me. My younger two brothers are the golden children. I love them, I envy them. Their children are the stars and the moon. Life is unfair. My mother has sought treatment, is on anti-depressants, has had kind moments and absolutely rotten ones. She is gifted, smart and fragile. She can be empathetic with friends, full of information and she can explode in a heart beat. I find only after a conversation that I thought went well; that I blew it. It is the never knowing that drives me batty. It is literally bending down to pick up a fork and being told that that was a horrible thing to do; that it is her house and her fork and how could I? Insanity breeds insanity. Normality becomes the fiction. Heck I don't even know what normal is. I have never been accepted for myself. What does that feel like? To be well and truely loved? To not worry about every word or action. I bought my folks opera tickets because they said they enjoyed the opera. I was accused by my mom of trying to BUY her. Exactly where did that come from. She says I have something wrong with me because I try to do things for people. And that any one who does something for someone wants something. She is wrong. That is what make a better world. Helping caring and giving without reguard for reward. But it is wrong when I do that and only right when she does it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 7, 2012 Report Share Posted April 7, 2012 (((((dragonbird))))) I " hear " the pain in your post. I could have written your post, my own nada behaves so similarly to yours. You have a lot of insight already, about why your bpd mother acts and things and speaks the way she does. Like your mother, mine was always projecting her own interior landscape of thoughts and feelings onto me. I was often accused of possessing her own negative, unwanted thoughts and feelings. My Sister and I fairly recently, were able to joke with each other about this with each other on the phone. I said, " Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Liar; my name is Ingrate. " Its hard to accept that we're bereft of the unconditional love from our mother that most children take for granted, and that we will never have this; our mothers are not capable of giving us that, because of their particular form of mental illness. You will probably go through a true grieving process, pretty much identical to grieving the physical death of your parent, at some point, but you will be grieving the loss of the hope that your mother will have some kind of miraculous epiphany and transform into " the good mother. " The 5 stages of grief are: Denial- " there's nothing wrong, everything's fine " Anger - " Why me? Its not fair! " Who is to blame for this!? " Bargaining - " I'll do anything to make this not true, to fix this. " Depression - " Why bother with doing anything, what's the point? " Acceptance - " I can't fight this or change it, so I might as well accept it and prepare for it. " My suggestion is that if you can wrap your head around the realty that its not your fault that your mother treats you the way she does, NOT your fault that you were designated as " dung " child, that you are a good and worthy person who did not deserve such treatment, that will go a long way toward helping you process your trauma and grief. Every child deserves to be wanted, every child deserves unconditional love from their parents, and in my opinion every child deserves parents who are not severely mentally ill, emotionally retarded and emotionally negligent, withholding or abusive toward their child; you and most of us here were robbed of that birthright. Its not your fault. Knowing that you're not alone in this can help, and sometimes a good therapist can help us work through this stuff a little faster than we can on our own, seems to me. -Annie > > My older brother and I both recieved the brunt of my mothers illness. He because he was the first, dislexic and independent. Me, because I am female and she had a neglectful and mentally abusive mother. > > My older brother has found a way to coexist. He is there but does not engage. I think, unconsiously he has set firm boundaries. I am geographically separated and seem to be getting the full force of her discontent. > > She is worse now that my Dad is dying. I am her dung child. She is tormenting my Dad with how rotten I am. I think her abandonment fears have blossomed and she is railing against him through me. But he can't keep the peace. > > My dad is coming to my city to get experimental cancer treatments. She won't come. Partly because of the cost and partly because of me. > > My younger two brothers are the golden children. I love them, I envy them. Their children are the stars and the moon. Life is unfair. > > My mother has sought treatment, is on anti-depressants, has had kind moments and absolutely rotten ones. She is gifted, smart and fragile. She can be empathetic with friends, full of information and she can explode in a heart beat. I find only after a conversation that I thought went well; that I blew it. > > It is the never knowing that drives me batty. It is literally bending down to pick up a fork and being told that that was a horrible thing to do; that it is her house and her fork and how could I? > > Insanity breeds insanity. Normality becomes the fiction. Heck I don't even know what normal is. I have never been accepted for myself. What does that feel like? To be well and truely loved? To not worry about every word or action. > > I bought my folks opera tickets because they said they enjoyed the opera. I was accused by my mom of trying to BUY her. Exactly where did that come from. She says I have something wrong with me because I try to do things for people. And that any one who does something for someone wants something. > > She is wrong. That is what make a better world. Helping caring and giving without reguard for reward. But it is wrong when I do that and only right when she does it. > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted April 7, 2012 Report Share Posted April 7, 2012 It is so very nice to be heard and that you and the folks in this group take the time to respond. Thank you Teri > (((((dragonbird))))) > > I " hear " the pain in your post. I could have written your post, my own nada behaves so similarly to yours. You have a lot of insight already, about why your bpd mother acts and things and speaks the way she does. > > Like your mother, mine was always projecting her own interior landscape of thoughts and feelings onto me. I was often accused of possessing her own negative, unwanted thoughts and feelings. My Sister and I fairly recently, were able to joke with each other about this with each other on the phone. I said, " Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Liar; my name is Ingrate. " > > Its hard to accept that we're bereft of the unconditional love from our mother that most children take for granted, and that we will never have this; our mothers are not capable of giving us that, because of their particular form of mental illness. > > You will probably go through a true grieving process, pretty much identical to grieving the physical death of your parent, at some point, but you will be grieving the loss of the hope that your mother will have some kind of miraculous epiphany and transform into " the good mother. " > > The 5 stages of grief are: > Denial- " there's nothing wrong, everything's fine " > Anger - " Why me? Its not fair! " Who is to blame for this!? " > Bargaining - " I'll do anything to make this not true, to fix this. " > Depression - " Why bother with doing anything, what's the point? " > Acceptance - " I can't fight this or change it, so I might as well accept it and prepare for it. " > > My suggestion is that if you can wrap your head around the realty that its not your fault that your mother treats you the way she does, NOT your fault that you were designated as " dung " child, that you are a good and worthy person who did not deserve such treatment, > that will go a long way toward helping you process your trauma and grief. > > Every child deserves to be wanted, every child deserves unconditional love from their parents, and in my opinion every child deserves parents who are not severely mentally ill, emotionally retarded and emotionally negligent, withholding or abusive toward their child; you and most of us here were robbed of that birthright. Its not your fault. > > Knowing that you're not alone in this can help, and sometimes a good therapist can help us work through this stuff a little faster than we can on our own, seems to me. > > -Annie > > > > > > My older brother and I both recieved the brunt of my mothers illness. He because he was the first, dislexic and independent. Me, because I am female and she had a neglectful and mentally abusive mother. > > > > My older brother has found a way to coexist. He is there but does not engage. I think, unconsiously he has set firm boundaries. I am geographically separated and seem to be getting the full force of her discontent. > > > > She is worse now that my Dad is dying. I am her dung child. She is tormenting my Dad with how rotten I am. I think her abandonment fears have blossomed and she is railing against him through me. But he can't keep the peace. > > > > My dad is coming to my city to get experimental cancer treatments. She won't come. Partly because of the cost and partly because of me. > > > > My younger two brothers are the golden children. I love them, I envy them. Their children are the stars and the moon. Life is unfair. > > > > My mother has sought treatment, is on anti-depressants, has had kind moments and absolutely rotten ones. She is gifted, smart and fragile. She can be empathetic with friends, full of information and she can explode in a heart beat. I find only after a conversation that I thought went well; that I blew it. > > > > It is the never knowing that drives me batty. It is literally bending down to pick up a fork and being told that that was a horrible thing to do; that it is her house and her fork and how could I? > > > > Insanity breeds insanity. Normality becomes the fiction. Heck I don't even know what normal is. I have never been accepted for myself. What does that feel like? To be well and truely loved? To not worry about every word or action. > > > > I bought my folks opera tickets because they said they enjoyed the opera. I was accused by my mom of trying to BUY her. Exactly where did that come from. She says I have something wrong with me because I try to do things for people. And that any one who does something for someone wants something. > > > > She is wrong. That is what make a better world. Helping caring and giving without reguard for reward. But it is wrong when I do that and only right when she does it. > > > > > > > TODAY(Beta) • Powered by Yahoo! > The fastest growing cities in America > Privacy Policy > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.