“May God have mercy on your soul,” my mother said. The bee sting is over. I’ve come to peace with her words.
Like a Borderline, she projects. So, maybe she is actually saying may God have mercy on her soul. Just maybe.
All this Borderline talk has me feeling a bit queasy. Does this mean it’s time for a break? Does this mean I’m getting really close to the soul of the matter? I’m so happy I have a therapist who I can ask these questions to and gain some insight I’m not developing on my own. A past therapist told me to “pepper in” books about borderlines because of the emotions that come up. I have so far been most affected by Beverly Engel’s Healing Your Emotional Self. It was when talking about this book that my therapist mentioned pepper. I never finished that book. Maybe I can mix it up a little and pick it back up, and take a break from my current reading. I just don’t know, but I trust that my therapist will.
I searched online for some articles about BPD and adult children of BPD parents, but did not find much except links to books to buy. What if a person cannot afford to buy books? What if articles are easier for them to read for books? After my www search, I feel there isn’t enough information about BPD that is free and readily available. There are blogs about the subject, which is nice, at least for me, to hear another’s firsthand account of growing up with a BPD parent.
This just popped into my head, so I’ll share. I never felt like I had a childhood. I had to be an adult and deal with adult emotions, rage and plain awkward situations. I remember my mom and step dad fighting because she cheated on him. He asked why she wasn’t more upset when telling him about it. Her response: “Because Kristin is right here.” I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I remember her saying that she didn’t love the guy and it was “just sex.” She told me this, a 7-year old. She would never admit that this situation took place, but I don’t need her to, because I’ve found some healing in no longer needing her validation.
I have stories for days. Her always telling me she had to walk around on eggshells because of me. I was five years old, mother! I didn’t understand the phrase, just understood that I was bad and made her feel bad, I just didn’t know why. I’m feeling some anger recounting these events, as I’m entitled to feeling. I hope there are others who have come across my blog and found it helpful, perhaps after not finding any helpful information online. And alternately, I hope I’m not screwing up someone’s beliefs. But this is my story. Others are certainly different, but we all dealt with the same type of behaviors: projection, splitting, raging, crying…
I’ll keep sharing my story as long as there is someone out there who is reading it.
