New here... suspected bpd mom and sister. Long rant.

[Guest guest]

This will probably be long. My name's na and I'm 26, happily newly married

with a beautiful baby boy.

As a child, I loved my mom, but I always thought she was mean. As I got older,

and especially around my preteen years, I started thinking she was crazy. I

didn't understand why she was the " cool " mom to all my friends, but if she and I

were alone, she did nothing but chastise me and nitpick everything I did. In

church, around the age of 4 or 5, if I fidgeted, she'd pinch me incredibly hard

and shoot me a seething look. After church was finished she'd drag me out and

scream at me in the car about how disrespectful I was.

I heard the word " disrespectful " so many times in my life. If I disagreed with

her, I was being disrespectful. It didn't matter what it was about. I could be

simply stating my own opinion and she'd light up with a fiery rage with the

implication that someone was criticizing her beliefs.

Routinely, in public, if someone inadvertently stepped in front of her or

something she'd loudly exclaim " EXCUSE ME " and follow the person around talking

about how rude people are. If people (even strangers) she passed were talking in

hushed tones, she'd assume they were talking about her, and say something like

" Do you have something you want to say to me?! "

I moved out of her house and in with my dad when I was 15, because of an

incident where my mother flew off the handle. Instead of riding the school bus

home from high school, I told my mom I was getting a ride home with my friend,

but we had to run a couple of errands first. Less than thirty minutes after

school, my mom called my friend's phone every fifteen minutes asking where the

hell I was, and finally forced my friend to meet her at the grocery store so my

mom could get me. The entire ride home she slapped me and called me

disrespectful and I said she was crazy. She peeled into the driveway, threw open

my door, and dragged me out by my hair, proceeding to slam my head into the car.

When I told her I was going to call the cops and report her for abuse, I grabbed

the phone and she tackled me to the ground and called her friend " Matt " . She

told him I was violent and she was scared for her safety. I was able to get the

phone later and call my dad. I'm surprised she drove me to the airport a couple

of days later.

To this day, she'll tell anyone who will listen " Puberty was hell for me with my

girls. " and how terrible we were. She always screamed " I'm a GOOD MOM! " at me

when I called her out on her behavior. She told every new person she met that

she was " the black sheep of the family " , and about how she had overcome

adversity to achieve a college education while being a " single mother with two

kids " . She thinks she's a hero and a victim all at once.

I wasn't aware of borderline personality disorder until very recently, when in

describing a recent incident involving my mother to my inlaws, they handed me

the book " Stop Walking on Eggshells " . I was amazed at how some of the anecdotes

seemed to have been written about my mom.

Recently, I have decided I will never contact my mother or sister again. My

sister seems to have followed in my mother's footsteps. While neither has ever

been diagnosed with a mental illness (and will adamantly tell you that YOU are

sick if you imply so), I suspect both have BPD. The catalyst for this decision

(amongst other awful incidents) was this summer. Last year, I fell pregnant and

having re-established my relationship with my mother after my teen years via

phone (we didn't see each other in person but once every two years), I assumed

she was no longer " crazy " . She didn't argue with me on the phone, and she wanted

to come help me raise my child, since the man who got me pregnant did not want

to be in the baby's life. She was living in Ohio at the time, and I in Oregon.

In Ohio, she kept moving from apartment to apartment because of fights she'd get

in with her neighbors and landlords, but presented them in such a way that she

was being victimized. She also kept switching jobs (she is an RN) because she

would get into fights with her coworkers or say they were picking on her for her

faith (she's Catholic and considers herself very Christian in her actions).

During one of the moves, she wanted to downsize, and asked if she could send

some of her things to me. A few weeks later, a semi truck full of furniture and

three men arrived at my door. I was heavily pregnant and could not even walk

through my house after they delivered everything. She sent me about $100 a month

presumably to " help " , which I appreciated, and graciously accepted. I used the

money to pay for a storage unit, and moved as many items as I could into it

after renting a uhaul, leaving the very heavy items in my house because I was so

far along.

At 6 months pregnant, I met my now-husband through his roommates, whom I have

known for years. Initially we were acquaintances, but began warming to each

other and despite some reservations on his part, we started to fall in love. I

told my mom I had met someone special but I didn't want her to feel displaced if

she still wanted to move up to Oregon, and that she should still feel free to

stay with us. He wanted to be in my life and help me raise my son, and was

present and contributed to the birth.

Meanwhile, my mom began to get exceedingly paranoid. She asked if I was selling

her furniture, or letting other people use it. Despite numerous attempts to

dissuade her, she routinely stated that my now-husband and I were trying to

" screw her over " and that we didn't want to help her out. She kept asking if my

fiance was a pedophile, because why else would he want to be with me? A week or

so later, my sister who lived in New Mexico said she was separating from her

husband due to a porn addiction, and my mom told her she could stay with us. In

my two bedroom apartment, there were my mom's dog and cat, my cat, my infant

son, my fiance, my mother, my sister, and her infant son, and large items of

furniture. My fiance took this all in stride, came home from work every day and

fixed dinner for everyone, while enduring cold stares from my mother and sister,

who went out to eat and did not contribute to the household. My mom's animals

pooped and peed on my carpet and she didn't clean it or apologize. It was hell.

One night, my mom broke a casserole dish in my sink and proceeded to run the

garbage disposal with the glass in it, even after I asked her not to.

Overwhelmed, I went into my bedroom and cried, and my husband came in to console

me. A few minutes later, we heard banging and crashing in the living room. My

mom began throwing all our belongings around to start stacking up her furniture

and was screaming that she was leaving. We explained over and over that I was

just upset and that she was welcome to stay. She and my sister said that I was a

leach and treated them terribly. We stayed with my inlaws until they moved their

things out. They told the rest of my family on my dad's side that my husband was

abusive and kicked them out. My sister called her pervert husband and he " saved "

them by moving up and renting a house for my mom and sister.

A couple weeks later, my husband and I got married. Neither my mom or sister

showed up, and neither made any attempt to congratulate us. On our honeymoon, I

began to receive unsolicited texts from my mom stating that holding her mail was

a federal offense and that she was going to call my son's biological father if I

didn't get her mail to her by 5 pm. I told her it wasn't possible because we

were out of town and she screamed and ranted at me and we had to drive back into

town and give my mom's few pieces of mail to my sister.

Fast forward to last night, my son is now 7 months old, my husband and I are

happily married and our dr cleared us for trying for another baby. I fell

pregnant in October, and sadly miscarried. The news was relayed to my mother and

sister and though we had changed our numbers, I think my aunt gave mine to them.

My mother and sister sent me texts telling me that I deserved a miscarriage and

that my husband was just a pervert who wanted to sleep with a pregnant woman and

that I wouldn't of miscarried if I wasn't so fat. They said I was a terrible

person, I deserved to be treated terribly, that my husband was a pedophile, and

that I was a whore for getting pregnant before. I asked them to be respectful

and they continued to launch into paragraphs of hateful lies and made up

incidences in which I had somehow slighted them.

Which brings me here. Sorry for the long post, I'm not aware of the etiquette or

common acronyms here, but I guess I needed some catharsis. If you got through

this, God bless you!

[Guest guest]

Whew. I'm not sure what to say except you are amazing for getting through all of

this and your husband sounds like a gem. He could have thrown them out any time

and we would have applauded.

I can relate to the whole attitude of disrespect. My nada is like that. Say

anything contrary to her way of thinking, even have a look on your face and she

would blow a gasket. She also gets irate if someone walks in front of her in the

store, will carry on about how rude people are and will give them the evil eye.

One of her favorite sayings: if she's talking and someone wants to add a

comment, she'll take a deep breath, frown and then say: well. . . . as I was

saying before I was so rudely interrupted... "

I'm glad you and your husband are finally out on your own. I'm sorry to hear

about the baby though. Very stressful and painful to think about the little boy

or girl that is gone.

So glad you're here and yes, we do write on about things bothering us. I think

only people who deal with BPD parents/relatives fully understand how difficult

it can be. If it's a mom, like mine, they look at you like you're exaggerating

and say, " But she's your mom. " Not really a mom, more a female parent unit. And

nadas can be nice to others but rip into you if you're the " bad " one, the one

she's chosen to hate.

I do hope you'll stay around, read the posts that interest you and I hope we can

be an encouragement. And don't you just love Oregon? We moved here over 30 years

ago and we love it.

>

> This will probably be long. My name's na and I'm 26, happily newly

married with a beautiful baby boy.

>

> As a child, I loved my mom, but I always thought she was mean. As I got older,

and especially around my preteen years, I started thinking she was crazy. I

didn't understand why she was the " cool " mom to all my friends, but if she and I

were alone, she did nothing but chastise me and nitpick everything I did. In

church, around the age of 4 or 5, if I fidgeted, she'd pinch me incredibly hard

and shoot me a seething look. After church was finished she'd drag me out and

scream at me in the car about how disrespectful I was.

>

> I heard the word " disrespectful " so many times in my life. If I disagreed with

her, I was being disrespectful. It didn't matter what it was about. I could be

simply stating my own opinion and she'd light up with a fiery rage with the

implication that someone was criticizing her beliefs.

>

> Routinely, in public, if someone inadvertently stepped in front of her or

something she'd loudly exclaim " EXCUSE ME " and follow the person around talking

about how rude people are. If people (even strangers) she passed were talking in

hushed tones, she'd assume they were talking about her, and say something like

" Do you have something you want to say to me?! "

>

> I moved out of her house and in with my dad when I was 15, because of an

incident where my mother flew off the handle. Instead of riding the school bus

home from high school, I told my mom I was getting a ride home with my friend,

but we had to run a couple of errands first. Less than thirty minutes after

school, my mom called my friend's phone every fifteen minutes asking where the

hell I was, and finally forced my friend to meet her at the grocery store so my

mom could get me. The entire ride home she slapped me and called me

disrespectful and I said she was crazy. She peeled into the driveway, threw open

my door, and dragged me out by my hair, proceeding to slam my head into the car.

When I told her I was going to call the cops and report her for abuse, I grabbed

the phone and she tackled me to the ground and called her friend " Matt " . She

told him I was violent and she was scared for her safety. I was able to get the

phone later and call my dad. I'm surprised she drove me to the airport a couple

of days later.

>

> To this day, she'll tell anyone who will listen " Puberty was hell for me with

my girls. " and how terrible we were. She always screamed " I'm a GOOD MOM! " at me

when I called her out on her behavior. She told every new person she met that

she was " the black sheep of the family " , and about how she had overcome

adversity to achieve a college education while being a " single mother with two

kids " . She thinks she's a hero and a victim all at once.

>

> I wasn't aware of borderline personality disorder until very recently, when in

describing a recent incident involving my mother to my inlaws, they handed me

the book " Stop Walking on Eggshells " . I was amazed at how some of the anecdotes

seemed to have been written about my mom.

>

> Recently, I have decided I will never contact my mother or sister again. My

sister seems to have followed in my mother's footsteps. While neither has ever

been diagnosed with a mental illness (and will adamantly tell you that YOU are

sick if you imply so), I suspect both have BPD. The catalyst for this decision

(amongst other awful incidents) was this summer. Last year, I fell pregnant and

having re-established my relationship with my mother after my teen years via

phone (we didn't see each other in person but once every two years), I assumed

she was no longer " crazy " . She didn't argue with me on the phone, and she wanted

to come help me raise my child, since the man who got me pregnant did not want

to be in the baby's life. She was living in Ohio at the time, and I in Oregon.

In Ohio, she kept moving from apartment to apartment because of fights she'd get

in with her neighbors and landlords, but presented them in such a way that she

was being victimized. She also kept switching jobs (she is an RN) because she

would get into fights with her coworkers or say they were picking on her for her

faith (she's Catholic and considers herself very Christian in her actions).

During one of the moves, she wanted to downsize, and asked if she could send

some of her things to me. A few weeks later, a semi truck full of furniture and

three men arrived at my door. I was heavily pregnant and could not even walk

through my house after they delivered everything. She sent me about $100 a month

presumably to " help " , which I appreciated, and graciously accepted. I used the

money to pay for a storage unit, and moved as many items as I could into it

after renting a uhaul, leaving the very heavy items in my house because I was so

far along.

>

> At 6 months pregnant, I met my now-husband through his roommates, whom I have

known for years. Initially we were acquaintances, but began warming to each

other and despite some reservations on his part, we started to fall in love. I

told my mom I had met someone special but I didn't want her to feel displaced if

she still wanted to move up to Oregon, and that she should still feel free to

stay with us. He wanted to be in my life and help me raise my son, and was

present and contributed to the birth.

>

> Meanwhile, my mom began to get exceedingly paranoid. She asked if I was

selling her furniture, or letting other people use it. Despite numerous attempts

to dissuade her, she routinely stated that my now-husband and I were trying to

" screw her over " and that we didn't want to help her out. She kept asking if my

fiance was a pedophile, because why else would he want to be with me? A week or

so later, my sister who lived in New Mexico said she was separating from her

husband due to a porn addiction, and my mom told her she could stay with us. In

my two bedroom apartment, there were my mom's dog and cat, my cat, my infant

son, my fiance, my mother, my sister, and her infant son, and large items of

furniture. My fiance took this all in stride, came home from work every day and

fixed dinner for everyone, while enduring cold stares from my mother and sister,

who went out to eat and did not contribute to the household. My mom's animals

pooped and peed on my carpet and she didn't clean it or apologize. It was hell.

>

> One night, my mom broke a casserole dish in my sink and proceeded to run the

garbage disposal with the glass in it, even after I asked her not to.

Overwhelmed, I went into my bedroom and cried, and my husband came in to console

me. A few minutes later, we heard banging and crashing in the living room. My

mom began throwing all our belongings around to start stacking up her furniture

and was screaming that she was leaving. We explained over and over that I was

just upset and that she was welcome to stay. She and my sister said that I was a

leach and treated them terribly. We stayed with my inlaws until they moved their

things out. They told the rest of my family on my dad's side that my husband was

abusive and kicked them out. My sister called her pervert husband and he " saved "

them by moving up and renting a house for my mom and sister.

>

> A couple weeks later, my husband and I got married. Neither my mom or sister

showed up, and neither made any attempt to congratulate us. On our honeymoon, I

began to receive unsolicited texts from my mom stating that holding her mail was

a federal offense and that she was going to call my son's biological father if I

didn't get her mail to her by 5 pm. I told her it wasn't possible because we

were out of town and she screamed and ranted at me and we had to drive back into

town and give my mom's few pieces of mail to my sister.

>

> Fast forward to last night, my son is now 7 months old, my husband and I are

happily married and our dr cleared us for trying for another baby. I fell

pregnant in October, and sadly miscarried. The news was relayed to my mother and

sister and though we had changed our numbers, I think my aunt gave mine to them.

My mother and sister sent me texts telling me that I deserved a miscarriage and

that my husband was just a pervert who wanted to sleep with a pregnant woman and

that I wouldn't of miscarried if I wasn't so fat. They said I was a terrible

person, I deserved to be treated terribly, that my husband was a pedophile, and

that I was a whore for getting pregnant before. I asked them to be respectful

and they continued to launch into paragraphs of hateful lies and made up

incidences in which I had somehow slighted them.

>

> Which brings me here. Sorry for the long post, I'm not aware of the etiquette

or common acronyms here, but I guess I needed some catharsis. If you got through

this, God bless you!

>

[Guest guest]

What a harrowing series of events. Sorry you had to endue such disrespect.

I hope you can get free of these two. My father always called himself the

black sheep of the family. Peculiar. Wonder what it means when these

psychos say that? My father's whole family is off beat and if there was a

black sheep, I can't think of one. Maybe it's just another, feel bad for

me, look at me tactic. Or it's an expression of their true inner sense of

worthlessness.

Good luck. This group will be here for you I believe.

> **

>

>

> Whew. I'm not sure what to say except you are amazing for getting through

> all of this and your husband sounds like a gem. He could have thrown them

> out any time and we would have applauded.

>

>

[Guest guest]

I am so sorry about your miscarriage. I also miscarried, and my Nada responded

similarly, almost rejoicing over it because she hated my dh so much. Your

husband sounds like he loves you very much:)

I can also relate to the 'super-religious' thing, and the pinching in church,

and screaming in the car, OMGosh, WHY the yelling in the car?? I used to hate

that.

Welcome:)Mel

> >

> > This will probably be long. My name's na and I'm 26, happily newly

married with a beautiful baby boy.

> >

> > As a child, I loved my mom, but I always thought she was mean. As I got

older, and especially around my preteen years, I started thinking she was crazy.

I didn't understand why she was the " cool " mom to all my friends, but if she and

I were alone, she did nothing but chastise me and nitpick everything I did. In

church, around the age of 4 or 5, if I fidgeted, she'd pinch me incredibly hard

and shoot me a seething look. After church was finished she'd drag me out and

scream at me in the car about how disrespectful I was.

> >

> > I heard the word " disrespectful " so many times in my life. If I disagreed

with her, I was being disrespectful. It didn't matter what it was about. I could

be simply stating my own opinion and she'd light up with a fiery rage with the

implication that someone was criticizing her beliefs.

> >

> > Routinely, in public, if someone inadvertently stepped in front of her or

something she'd loudly exclaim " EXCUSE ME " and follow the person around talking

about how rude people are. If people (even strangers) she passed were talking in

hushed tones, she'd assume they were talking about her, and say something like

" Do you have something you want to say to me?! "

> >

> > I moved out of her house and in with my dad when I was 15, because of an

incident where my mother flew off the handle. Instead of riding the school bus

home from high school, I told my mom I was getting a ride home with my friend,

but we had to run a couple of errands first. Less than thirty minutes after

school, my mom called my friend's phone every fifteen minutes asking where the

hell I was, and finally forced my friend to meet her at the grocery store so my

mom could get me. The entire ride home she slapped me and called me

disrespectful and I said she was crazy. She peeled into the driveway, threw open

my door, and dragged me out by my hair, proceeding to slam my head into the car.

When I told her I was going to call the cops and report her for abuse, I grabbed

the phone and she tackled me to the ground and called her friend " Matt " . She

told him I was violent and she was scared for her safety. I was able to get the

phone later and call my dad. I'm surprised she drove me to the airport a couple

of days later.

> >

> > To this day, she'll tell anyone who will listen " Puberty was hell for me

with my girls. " and how terrible we were. She always screamed " I'm a GOOD MOM! "

at me when I called her out on her behavior. She told every new person she met

that she was " the black sheep of the family " , and about how she had overcome

adversity to achieve a college education while being a " single mother with two

kids " . She thinks she's a hero and a victim all at once.

> >

> > I wasn't aware of borderline personality disorder until very recently, when

in describing a recent incident involving my mother to my inlaws, they handed me

the book " Stop Walking on Eggshells " . I was amazed at how some of the anecdotes

seemed to have been written about my mom.

> >

> > Recently, I have decided I will never contact my mother or sister again. My

sister seems to have followed in my mother's footsteps. While neither has ever

been diagnosed with a mental illness (and will adamantly tell you that YOU are

sick if you imply so), I suspect both have BPD. The catalyst for this decision

(amongst other awful incidents) was this summer. Last year, I fell pregnant and

having re-established my relationship with my mother after my teen years via

phone (we didn't see each other in person but once every two years), I assumed

she was no longer " crazy " . She didn't argue with me on the phone, and she wanted

to come help me raise my child, since the man who got me pregnant did not want

to be in the baby's life. She was living in Ohio at the time, and I in Oregon.

In Ohio, she kept moving from apartment to apartment because of fights she'd get

in with her neighbors and landlords, but presented them in such a way that she

was being victimized. She also kept switching jobs (she is an RN) because she

would get into fights with her coworkers or say they were picking on her for her

faith (she's Catholic and considers herself very Christian in her actions).

During one of the moves, she wanted to downsize, and asked if she could send

some of her things to me. A few weeks later, a semi truck full of furniture and

three men arrived at my door. I was heavily pregnant and could not even walk

through my house after they delivered everything. She sent me about $100 a month

presumably to " help " , which I appreciated, and graciously accepted. I used the

money to pay for a storage unit, and moved as many items as I could into it

after renting a uhaul, leaving the very heavy items in my house because I was so

far along.

> >

> > At 6 months pregnant, I met my now-husband through his roommates, whom I

have known for years. Initially we were acquaintances, but began warming to each

other and despite some reservations on his part, we started to fall in love. I

told my mom I had met someone special but I didn't want her to feel displaced if

she still wanted to move up to Oregon, and that she should still feel free to

stay with us. He wanted to be in my life and help me raise my son, and was

present and contributed to the birth.

> >

> > Meanwhile, my mom began to get exceedingly paranoid. She asked if I was

selling her furniture, or letting other people use it. Despite numerous attempts

to dissuade her, she routinely stated that my now-husband and I were trying to

" screw her over " and that we didn't want to help her out. She kept asking if my

fiance was a pedophile, because why else would he want to be with me? A week or

so later, my sister who lived in New Mexico said she was separating from her

husband due to a porn addiction, and my mom told her she could stay with us. In

my two bedroom apartment, there were my mom's dog and cat, my cat, my infant

son, my fiance, my mother, my sister, and her infant son, and large items of

furniture. My fiance took this all in stride, came home from work every day and

fixed dinner for everyone, while enduring cold stares from my mother and sister,

who went out to eat and did not contribute to the household. My mom's animals

pooped and peed on my carpet and she didn't clean it or apologize. It was hell.

> >

> > One night, my mom broke a casserole dish in my sink and proceeded to run the

garbage disposal with the glass in it, even after I asked her not to.

Overwhelmed, I went into my bedroom and cried, and my husband came in to console

me. A few minutes later, we heard banging and crashing in the living room. My

mom began throwing all our belongings around to start stacking up her furniture

and was screaming that she was leaving. We explained over and over that I was

just upset and that she was welcome to stay. She and my sister said that I was a

leach and treated them terribly. We stayed with my inlaws until they moved their

things out. They told the rest of my family on my dad's side that my husband was

abusive and kicked them out. My sister called her pervert husband and he " saved "

them by moving up and renting a house for my mom and sister.

> >

> > A couple weeks later, my husband and I got married. Neither my mom or sister

showed up, and neither made any attempt to congratulate us. On our honeymoon, I

began to receive unsolicited texts from my mom stating that holding her mail was

a federal offense and that she was going to call my son's biological father if I

didn't get her mail to her by 5 pm. I told her it wasn't possible because we

were out of town and she screamed and ranted at me and we had to drive back into

town and give my mom's few pieces of mail to my sister.

> >

> > Fast forward to last night, my son is now 7 months old, my husband and I are

happily married and our dr cleared us for trying for another baby. I fell

pregnant in October, and sadly miscarried. The news was relayed to my mother and

sister and though we had changed our numbers, I think my aunt gave mine to them.

My mother and sister sent me texts telling me that I deserved a miscarriage and

that my husband was just a pervert who wanted to sleep with a pregnant woman and

that I wouldn't of miscarried if I wasn't so fat. They said I was a terrible

person, I deserved to be treated terribly, that my husband was a pedophile, and

that I was a whore for getting pregnant before. I asked them to be respectful

and they continued to launch into paragraphs of hateful lies and made up

incidences in which I had somehow slighted them.

> >

> > Which brings me here. Sorry for the long post, I'm not aware of the

etiquette or common acronyms here, but I guess I needed some catharsis. If you

got through this, God bless you!

> >

>

[Guest guest]

You are not alone in your experiences and having lived with and

unsuccessfully tried to figure out why your Mom is the way she is. That

was, indeed, a rambling sentence.

What you can do for you is to be everything to your baby you never had.

No contact seems to be a common piece of advice. Hard to maintain 100% of

the time but your Mom will do nothing but try to drag you down into the

depths of hell with her. Don't go there. You have a family of your own

now...

[Guest guest]

I think NC is the answer because we CAN'T HELP THEM and they can only hurt

us. It occurred to me today. We just want to make them happy and they just

want to make us miserable. And they just want us to make them happy! How

does that work?

They want to make us miserable to control us and see us as low down as they

feel. And they want us to deliver everything their mommy and daddy didn't

deliver and they want to kick us hard and freequently. Then they tell us

we're not " good " because we're not making them happy. If only we'd try

harder!!!!

No way any of that is ever going to work.

On Thu, Dec 6, 2012 at 9:20 PM, Janice Hall janicehalldesigns@...>wrote:

> **

>

>

> You are not alone in your experiences and having lived with and

> unsuccessfully tried to figure out why your Mom is the way she is. That

> was, indeed, a rambling sentence.

>

> What you can do for you is to be everything to your baby you never had.

>

> No contact seems to be a common piece of advice. Hard to maintain 100% of

> the time but your Mom will do nothing but try to drag you down into the

> depths of hell with her. Don't go there. You have a family of your own

> now...

>

>

[Guest guest]

Thank you for your response, sorry I didn't reply sooner. I get the feeling that

so many BP parents think their children are disrespectful for simply having

opinions. And my nada does the same thing when people inadvertently interrupt

her. Thank you for the welcome, and I do love Oregon.

> >

> > This will probably be long. My name's na and I'm 26, happily newly

married with a beautiful baby boy.

> >

> > As a child, I loved my mom, but I always thought she was mean. As I got

older, and especially around my preteen years, I started thinking she was crazy.

I didn't understand why she was the " cool " mom to all my friends, but if she and

I were alone, she did nothing but chastise me and nitpick everything I did. In

church, around the age of 4 or 5, if I fidgeted, she'd pinch me incredibly hard

and shoot me a seething look. After church was finished she'd drag me out and

scream at me in the car about how disrespectful I was.

> >

> > I heard the word " disrespectful " so many times in my life. If I disagreed

with her, I was being disrespectful. It didn't matter what it was about. I could

be simply stating my own opinion and she'd light up with a fiery rage with the

implication that someone was criticizing her beliefs.

> >

> > Routinely, in public, if someone inadvertently stepped in front of her or

something she'd loudly exclaim " EXCUSE ME " and follow the person around talking

about how rude people are. If people (even strangers) she passed were talking in

hushed tones, she'd assume they were talking about her, and say something like

" Do you have something you want to say to me?! "

> >

> > I moved out of her house and in with my dad when I was 15, because of an

incident where my mother flew off the handle. Instead of riding the school bus

home from high school, I told my mom I was getting a ride home with my friend,

but we had to run a couple of errands first. Less than thirty minutes after

school, my mom called my friend's phone every fifteen minutes asking where the

hell I was, and finally forced my friend to meet her at the grocery store so my

mom could get me. The entire ride home she slapped me and called me

disrespectful and I said she was crazy. She peeled into the driveway, threw open

my door, and dragged me out by my hair, proceeding to slam my head into the car.

When I told her I was going to call the cops and report her for abuse, I grabbed

the phone and she tackled me to the ground and called her friend " Matt " . She

told him I was violent and she was scared for her safety. I was able to get the

phone later and call my dad. I'm surprised she drove me to the airport a couple

of days later.

> >

> > To this day, she'll tell anyone who will listen " Puberty was hell for me

with my girls. " and how terrible we were. She always screamed " I'm a GOOD MOM! "

at me when I called her out on her behavior. She told every new person she met

that she was " the black sheep of the family " , and about how she had overcome

adversity to achieve a college education while being a " single mother with two

kids " . She thinks she's a hero and a victim all at once.

> >

> > I wasn't aware of borderline personality disorder until very recently, when

in describing a recent incident involving my mother to my inlaws, they handed me

the book " Stop Walking on Eggshells " . I was amazed at how some of the anecdotes

seemed to have been written about my mom.

> >

> > Recently, I have decided I will never contact my mother or sister again. My

sister seems to have followed in my mother's footsteps. While neither has ever

been diagnosed with a mental illness (and will adamantly tell you that YOU are

sick if you imply so), I suspect both have BPD. The catalyst for this decision

(amongst other awful incidents) was this summer. Last year, I fell pregnant and

having re-established my relationship with my mother after my teen years via

phone (we didn't see each other in person but once every two years), I assumed

she was no longer " crazy " . She didn't argue with me on the phone, and she wanted

to come help me raise my child, since the man who got me pregnant did not want

to be in the baby's life. She was living in Ohio at the time, and I in Oregon.

In Ohio, she kept moving from apartment to apartment because of fights she'd get

in with her neighbors and landlords, but presented them in such a way that she

was being victimized. She also kept switching jobs (she is an RN) because she

would get into fights with her coworkers or say they were picking on her for her

faith (she's Catholic and considers herself very Christian in her actions).

During one of the moves, she wanted to downsize, and asked if she could send

some of her things to me. A few weeks later, a semi truck full of furniture and

three men arrived at my door. I was heavily pregnant and could not even walk

through my house after they delivered everything. She sent me about $100 a month

presumably to " help " , which I appreciated, and graciously accepted. I used the

money to pay for a storage unit, and moved as many items as I could into it

after renting a uhaul, leaving the very heavy items in my house because I was so

far along.

> >

> > At 6 months pregnant, I met my now-husband through his roommates, whom I

have known for years. Initially we were acquaintances, but began warming to each

other and despite some reservations on his part, we started to fall in love. I

told my mom I had met someone special but I didn't want her to feel displaced if

she still wanted to move up to Oregon, and that she should still feel free to

stay with us. He wanted to be in my life and help me raise my son, and was

present and contributed to the birth.

> >

> > Meanwhile, my mom began to get exceedingly paranoid. She asked if I was

selling her furniture, or letting other people use it. Despite numerous attempts

to dissuade her, she routinely stated that my now-husband and I were trying to

" screw her over " and that we didn't want to help her out. She kept asking if my

fiance was a pedophile, because why else would he want to be with me? A week or

so later, my sister who lived in New Mexico said she was separating from her

husband due to a porn addiction, and my mom told her she could stay with us. In

my two bedroom apartment, there were my mom's dog and cat, my cat, my infant

son, my fiance, my mother, my sister, and her infant son, and large items of

furniture. My fiance took this all in stride, came home from work every day and

fixed dinner for everyone, while enduring cold stares from my mother and sister,

who went out to eat and did not contribute to the household. My mom's animals

pooped and peed on my carpet and she didn't clean it or apologize. It was hell.

> >

> > One night, my mom broke a casserole dish in my sink and proceeded to run the

garbage disposal with the glass in it, even after I asked her not to.

Overwhelmed, I went into my bedroom and cried, and my husband came in to console

me. A few minutes later, we heard banging and crashing in the living room. My

mom began throwing all our belongings around to start stacking up her furniture

and was screaming that she was leaving. We explained over and over that I was

just upset and that she was welcome to stay. She and my sister said that I was a

leach and treated them terribly. We stayed with my inlaws until they moved their

things out. They told the rest of my family on my dad's side that my husband was

abusive and kicked them out. My sister called her pervert husband and he " saved "

them by moving up and renting a house for my mom and sister.

> >

> > A couple weeks later, my husband and I got married. Neither my mom or sister

showed up, and neither made any attempt to congratulate us. On our honeymoon, I

began to receive unsolicited texts from my mom stating that holding her mail was

a federal offense and that she was going to call my son's biological father if I

didn't get her mail to her by 5 pm. I told her it wasn't possible because we

were out of town and she screamed and ranted at me and we had to drive back into

town and give my mom's few pieces of mail to my sister.

> >

> > Fast forward to last night, my son is now 7 months old, my husband and I are

happily married and our dr cleared us for trying for another baby. I fell

pregnant in October, and sadly miscarried. The news was relayed to my mother and

sister and though we had changed our numbers, I think my aunt gave mine to them.

My mother and sister sent me texts telling me that I deserved a miscarriage and

that my husband was just a pervert who wanted to sleep with a pregnant woman and

that I wouldn't of miscarried if I wasn't so fat. They said I was a terrible

person, I deserved to be treated terribly, that my husband was a pedophile, and

that I was a whore for getting pregnant before. I asked them to be respectful

and they continued to launch into paragraphs of hateful lies and made up

incidences in which I had somehow slighted them.

> >

> > Which brings me here. Sorry for the long post, I'm not aware of the

etiquette or common acronyms here, but I guess I needed some catharsis. If you

got through this, God bless you!

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Run as fast as you can and don't look back!

I'm twice your age and have stories just like yours. I'm not kidding. I

spent too many years going through what you have and are going through with

your mother. It cost me a couple of marriages and left me with a ton of

baggage to carry around.