Memory

[Guest guest]

I had an unusual memory come back today. I remember when I was 7 and my

nada paid to have the local drug store guy call and pretend he was Santa and

ask me what I wanted for Christmas. I was so excited about it. That same

night she told me there was no Santa and who he really was on the phone. I

remember being so angry with her for telling me two weeks before Christmas

and after that phone call. I don't know if my brother was partially to

blame since he was older and was already in the " know " on Santa, but it

really bothered me that they didn't wait and allow me to enjoy it one more

Christmas since it was so close anyway. The odd thing for me is that I've

never allowed my kids to " do " Santa. We have fun with it, but they've known

from the beginning it was just fun and not real. I just couldn't bring

myself to lie to them about it and have them realize I was lying to them or

have to worry about when they would really find out. I'm sure there is some

hidden psychosis with all that. . . .

[Guest guest]

Wow, that is a pretty miserable thing to do to a kid. Like giving you a candy

just to yank it away. I'm sorry you had to go through that.

Good for you to decide to protect the kids from ever having that happen to them.

>

>

>

> I had an unusual memory come back today. I remember when I was 7 and my

> nada paid to have the local drug store guy call and pretend he was Santa and

> ask me what I wanted for Christmas. I was so excited about it. That same

> night she told me there was no Santa and who he really was on the phone. I

> remember being so angry with her for telling me two weeks before Christmas

> and after that phone call. I don't know if my brother was partially to

> blame since he was older and was already in the " know " on Santa, but it

> really bothered me that they didn't wait and allow me to enjoy it one more

> Christmas since it was so close anyway. The odd thing for me is that I've

> never allowed my kids to " do " Santa. We have fun with it, but they've known

> from the beginning it was just fun and not real. I just couldn't bring

> myself to lie to them about it and have them realize I was lying to them or

> have to worry about when they would really find out. I'm sure there is some

> hidden psychosis with all that. . . .

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

,

If anything points to sadism, that does. I'm sorry you were raised by someone

who took obvious pleasure in your hurt and disappointment.

All the best,

Ashana

[Guest guest]

Sadistic!

This is a perfect example of the outrageous, sadistic head&*^%$# that

BPD caregivers perpetrate on their vulnerable dependents!

What a vicious and cruel set-up!

Soooo many questions flashed into my mind - - -

How, in the name of heaven could this kind of treatment be justified!

(..and yet I know how she would justify this kind of treatment - " it was

for your own good... " )

What kind of sadistic monster would set her child up, and %^&$ with their

head like this? ( ...a character disordered witch " Nada " )

What must the rest of your life like?

This was not simply misguided parenting, tough love, or a temporary lapse

of good judgement, I'm willing to bet, that it was one example out of

hundreds of thousands of daily occurrences, that reinforced that you were

you were not emotionally safe with the person who was supposed to be your

foremost champion and protector!

She actually *used* Santa Clause, *and* her pharmacist in the service of

her disorder, as tools with which to wound, damage, and shame her own

little girl!

The fact that she involved a third party, who was either " in on the

joke, " or, was an unwitting participant, (who thought that he was making a

small child happy, and helping a customer/friend), to help destroy your

belief in a benevolent, loving, generous and compassionate, and *truste*d

male figure is so typical of the insidious and cruel nature of the BPD

Witch. She also managed to screw with your ability to trust your pharmacist!

This was a well planned, two-for-one-shot for her.

This was brutalization of your trust.

Were you sent to the pharmacy on errands after this, or did you have to

face him when you went there with your nada?

I don't see any hidden psychosis - but a completely understandable

response to an untenable potential. You were protecting both your children,

and yourself from the trust shattering possibility of a Nada-like attack on

the invaluable and precious parent-child bond of trust.

We have done something similar. From early in our childs life, we would

find opportunities to " be Santa Claus " for each other, as well as someone

else. We had a " Santa Claus Jar " in which we stashed spare change, and

bought socks for the Veterans Home, or other things of that nature. We

might " Santa Claus " a neighbor, and shovel their walk.....you get the

picture.

We didn't ever want anyone to be able to take away our childs faith or

trust, in something wonderful, so we tried to manifest the concept in a

form that we felt would be safe from cruel people.

What your nada did was abominable, and just the tip of a really, really

ugly iceberg.

Dang!

Warm Regards, Sunspot

On Thu, Nov 8, 2012 at 11:06 PM, Renslow jwjrenslow@...>wrote

> **

>

>

>

>

> I had an unusual memory come back today. I remember when I was 7 and my

> nada paid to have the local drug store guy call and pretend he was Santa

> and

> ask me what I wanted for Christmas. I was so excited about it. That same

> night she told me there was no Santa and who he really was on the phone. I

> remember being so angry with her for telling me two weeks before Christmas

> and after that phone call. I don't know if my brother was partially to

> blame since he was older and was already in the " know " on Santa, but it

> really bothered me that they didn't wait and allow me to enjoy it one more

> Christmas since it was so close anyway. The odd thing for me is that I've

> never allowed my kids to " do " Santa. We have fun with it, but they've known

> from the beginning it was just fun and not real. I just couldn't bring

> myself to lie to them about it and have them realize I was lying to them or

> have to worry about when they would really find out. I'm sure there is some

> hidden psychosis with all that. . . .

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Thank you for the validation that her behavior was truly ugly! I honestly

don't remember a vast majority of my childhood particularly related to my

nada which leads me to believe that there is something there but that I may

be blocking it. She has continually apologized for my childhood over the

years when I have withdrawn and been protective of myself from abuses, as if

her impending attacks weren't the problem - just my childhood, and I always

thought it was odd. I need to probably work through my memories (maybe -

unless not remembering is better). Every now and then something will pop in

that is clear - I even remember where I was and what she was doing when the

phone call came from the drug store. . . but I have no recollection of

entire years otherwise. Strange.

[Guest guest]

I have found it is better to remember. I feel much more whole now that I have.

Take care,

Ashana

[Guest guest]

Happy Saturday All !

I wanted to comment here in that I don't remember much about my childhood

either…I mean almost nothing. I have memories…but they are more like remembering

that some event happened because I have seen the photos of the event. But they

aren't really *my* memories or memories of *my* feelings. It's a disconnected

feeling that hasn't ever bothered me, probably because it goes right along with

my attitude of throwing out my regret/grief/longing for a normal mother. But,

yeah, I don't remember much either!!

I do have my own memories starting about middle school/13 yo. But this is also

when the raging, hysterics, FOG, nada behavior, etc really started (independent

thinking for the nada's mini-me begins! it really hit the fan!!) OR!?! is it

that this is just when my own memories begin and so I remember the BP

behaviors?? OR?OR? This is a brand new thought for me, as I am writing this…I

will have to reflect on this later. May be, if I ever get around to it hehehe!

keep on keeping on!

[Guest guest]

Thanks - good to know others struggle with that. Or. . . or. . . is

it possible we don't remember much before the teen years because we weren't

allowed to be an individual? We weren't allowed to have our own opinion or

do anything that wasn't nada approved? IDK - I just think it is weird

either way.

jwjrenslow@...> jwjrenslow@...

[Guest guest]

That just triggered a memory for me...I remember being in elementary school and

it was right before Christmas. Nada was giving me a shower and I was chatting

away about how excited I was that Santa was coming soon. She said to me that I

was stupid for still believing in Santa, of course there was no such thing.

I remember holding back my tears and crying later when I was alone. I don't know

what hurt more, this belief being suddenly crushed, or just feeling totally

stupid and humiliated.

The more I think about these things the more I hate her. A friend of mine

recently told me to think of the good times. Honestly, I can't think of " good

times " . What does that even mean?! I think it is meaningless to me. The only

thing I can remember vividly is the fact that I cried every single day growing

up. Every day of my life. Even at a young age I realized that it was completely

abnormal. I just don't know how to ever release the rage.

>

>

>

> I had an unusual memory come back today. I remember when I was 7 and my

> nada paid to have the local drug store guy call and pretend he was Santa and

> ask me what I wanted for Christmas. I was so excited about it. That same

> night she told me there was no Santa and who he really was on the phone. I

> remember being so angry with her for telling me two weeks before Christmas

> and after that phone call. I don't know if my brother was partially to

> blame since he was older and was already in the " know " on Santa, but it

> really bothered me that they didn't wait and allow me to enjoy it one more

> Christmas since it was so close anyway. The odd thing for me is that I've

> never allowed my kids to " do " Santa. We have fun with it, but they've known

> from the beginning it was just fun and not real. I just couldn't bring

> myself to lie to them about it and have them realize I was lying to them or

> have to worry about when they would really find out. I'm sure there is some

> hidden psychosis with all that. . . .

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

I also have what I call " dark years. "

When I put myself through college, I also put myself through therapy. My every

wise counsler warned me that in the future, when my life felt safe and secure

enough, unbidden memories -both good and bad- would bubble up. She also told me

that at that point in time I would be ready and able to deal with them. Guess

what? She was right!

Most often they come when I am in a very relaxed state, work and family life are

going well, and nothing at all is on my mind. Taking a warm shower or sitting on

the front porch can trigger them. I used to be afrain. Now I see them as little

gifts that allow me to reclaim the past and take a duller ownship of my life.

Thank you for being the found family I can discuss the past with. YOu don't know

how very important you are!

Warm wishes for a very happy day,

MB

[Guest guest]

A very honest and brave list member posted that he/she recalls crying every day.

Wow... I thought I was the only one.

One of my hardest memories to live with was that between my Freshman and Junior

years of high school I became " all bad " to my BPD mother (momster phase?) Not a

day past when I wasn't covered in welts or going to school with a black eye.She

was a violent woman who broke a bread boards over my back, frequently knelt on

top of me while pounding my head into the floor, and beat me with knotted ropes.

Once she even came after me with a hammer. We lived in a small Southern town. No

one ever mentioned these welts and bruises until Junior year when a Chem.

teacher asked, " Is everything alright at home? " I lied and told him yes. How was

I going to tell him that my mother, who was also a teacher, was beating me? I

was afraid she would loose her job. I never lifted a hand against her. Not even

to protect myself. I can remember walking the back wood and the long drive to

our house in tears. Years later when my father (at the urging of wife #3) came

to look for the daughter he had abandoned to the care of an alcoholic BPD, the

neighbors told him , " Oh we seen her walk' up and down that drive way cryin'.

We knew somethin' was wrong. " Why didn't they help me? I still don't understand

the conspiracy of silence. It takes a village folks. Please speak up when you

see a child wearing the marks of physical abuse! You may call the CPA or the

local Sheriff's office to make an anonymous report.

MB