My first memory sucks. It's me choosing my mom over my dad. They were fighting, again. My mom was holding me, and I just wanted the yelling to stop. I looked at my dad, and then told my mom I wanted to go home. And just like that, we were gone. The look in my father's eyes is something I've never been able to forget.
I don't remember much after that. Not for the next few years anyway. I have a flash memory of a birthday party, but I don't remember it for sure. Most of my memories are out of order. It's hard for me to remember ages, dates, occasions, or what other memories came before it.
I lot of what I remember though isn't all that happy. It's tears, broken hearts, hating myself, and disappointment. It's fighting with my parents, spending a lot of time alone in my room, being picked on at school, feeling ugly, and not knowing how to be a "normal" girl. I've been traumatized by so many people, and many of them close to me. I just wanted kids at school to like me, my dad to be closer, my step dad to not pick on me, my step mom to not try and be my mom, and for my mom to actually act like she cared about me as much as she did my sister.
I think my mom and my step dad were the biggest influence when I was younger. I lived with them most of the time. My step dad was abusive. He picked on me constantly, tearing me down, calling me names, and on a few occasions, was physically abusive. One time in particular, he literally threw me out of my bed and onto the floor. And anytime I tried to tell my mom, she either didn't believe me or told me to get over it. Some years later, my step mom told me she thought he was abusing me, but never said anything to anyone. She left me on my own.
My mom was neglectful. Granted, she was suffering her own mental illness battle, but she didn't tell me anything until after I was in high school. I spent at least a decade trying to get my mom's attention. It got even worse after my sister was born. As my sister and I were growing up, they were close. Both introverts, both happy to be alone, both having a good relationship with the other. And here I was, an extrovert that needed to be around people, someone who didn't fit in with her family and didn't know why, someone who was too much work.
At school I was constantly picked on and bullied. I was called names, singled out, threatened, and called horrid names. When I told my mom, she told me I kept getting picked on because I reacted. Um... yes. It hurts my feelings. It also didn't help that no one up to that point had taught me to handle situations like that. I stayed close to the teachers and faculty in elementary school. At recess, I would always stay close to them, to help eliminate some of the bullying. The only period of time that I wasn't picked on, was when I had my first boyfriend. During those few weeks, I was untouchable. Kids wanted to hang out with me, talk to me, sit next to me at lunch. It was amazing. Then I caught him kissing another girl, and somehow I ended up as trash again.
My step mom was just as harmful for me. When I moved to Washington to live with my dad and her, I was so excited. I was excited for a new start, no bullies, no fighting with my mom, no more abuse from my step dad. It was supposed to be wonderful. It wasn't though. In many ways it was better, but in many ways it was so much worse. I was forced into religion, which meant more guilt, more rules, more expectations that I couldn't meet. I couldn't dress right, talk right, act right, do anything up to the "Godly" standards that were laid out before me. And I tried. God knows I tried. But I felt guilty enough about who I was anyway, I didn't need a congregation helping with that. My step mom basically enforced that I was some evil child that needed to be saved. And she blamed my mother. I know this because she has insulted her on several occasions, through me. And I didn't want to be my mother.
My dad was never around. A work-a-holic that didn't know how to say no to work, which left me alone or with a religion welding step mother. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in my room or out in the woods that surrounded their house. One of the few times in my life that I would willingly spend significant time outside. And if my dad was home, he was either watching sports or asleep. Usually both at the same time. You could try to change the channel, and he would wake up and tell you to turn it back.
Current day status with all these people?
Mother - She hasn't talked to me in weeks. She knows I've been struggling, and not a word. She's left me, once again, on my own.
Step dad - Out of my life. I have no contact with him.
Step mom - Minimal contact. She and I have talked one on one maybe twice in the past year. I finally put my foot down after an incident when Kyle and I broke up.
Dad - We talk at least twice a week, usually about nothing. But he has turned into the most supportive and understanding parent a girl could wish for. Even if he doesn't know what to say, or how to react, he tries.
I don't remember much after that. Not for the next few years anyway. I have a flash memory of a birthday party, but I don't remember it for sure. Most of my memories are out of order. It's hard for me to remember ages, dates, occasions, or what other memories came before it.
I lot of what I remember though isn't all that happy. It's tears, broken hearts, hating myself, and disappointment. It's fighting with my parents, spending a lot of time alone in my room, being picked on at school, feeling ugly, and not knowing how to be a "normal" girl. I've been traumatized by so many people, and many of them close to me. I just wanted kids at school to like me, my dad to be closer, my step dad to not pick on me, my step mom to not try and be my mom, and for my mom to actually act like she cared about me as much as she did my sister.
I think my mom and my step dad were the biggest influence when I was younger. I lived with them most of the time. My step dad was abusive. He picked on me constantly, tearing me down, calling me names, and on a few occasions, was physically abusive. One time in particular, he literally threw me out of my bed and onto the floor. And anytime I tried to tell my mom, she either didn't believe me or told me to get over it. Some years later, my step mom told me she thought he was abusing me, but never said anything to anyone. She left me on my own.
My mom was neglectful. Granted, she was suffering her own mental illness battle, but she didn't tell me anything until after I was in high school. I spent at least a decade trying to get my mom's attention. It got even worse after my sister was born. As my sister and I were growing up, they were close. Both introverts, both happy to be alone, both having a good relationship with the other. And here I was, an extrovert that needed to be around people, someone who didn't fit in with her family and didn't know why, someone who was too much work.
At school I was constantly picked on and bullied. I was called names, singled out, threatened, and called horrid names. When I told my mom, she told me I kept getting picked on because I reacted. Um... yes. It hurts my feelings. It also didn't help that no one up to that point had taught me to handle situations like that. I stayed close to the teachers and faculty in elementary school. At recess, I would always stay close to them, to help eliminate some of the bullying. The only period of time that I wasn't picked on, was when I had my first boyfriend. During those few weeks, I was untouchable. Kids wanted to hang out with me, talk to me, sit next to me at lunch. It was amazing. Then I caught him kissing another girl, and somehow I ended up as trash again.
My step mom was just as harmful for me. When I moved to Washington to live with my dad and her, I was so excited. I was excited for a new start, no bullies, no fighting with my mom, no more abuse from my step dad. It was supposed to be wonderful. It wasn't though. In many ways it was better, but in many ways it was so much worse. I was forced into religion, which meant more guilt, more rules, more expectations that I couldn't meet. I couldn't dress right, talk right, act right, do anything up to the "Godly" standards that were laid out before me. And I tried. God knows I tried. But I felt guilty enough about who I was anyway, I didn't need a congregation helping with that. My step mom basically enforced that I was some evil child that needed to be saved. And she blamed my mother. I know this because she has insulted her on several occasions, through me. And I didn't want to be my mother.
My dad was never around. A work-a-holic that didn't know how to say no to work, which left me alone or with a religion welding step mother. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in my room or out in the woods that surrounded their house. One of the few times in my life that I would willingly spend significant time outside. And if my dad was home, he was either watching sports or asleep. Usually both at the same time. You could try to change the channel, and he would wake up and tell you to turn it back.
Current day status with all these people?
Mother - She hasn't talked to me in weeks. She knows I've been struggling, and not a word. She's left me, once again, on my own.
Step dad - Out of my life. I have no contact with him.
Step mom - Minimal contact. She and I have talked one on one maybe twice in the past year. I finally put my foot down after an incident when Kyle and I broke up.
Dad - We talk at least twice a week, usually about nothing. But he has turned into the most supportive and understanding parent a girl could wish for. Even if he doesn't know what to say, or how to react, he tries.
So what does all of this have to do with my Borderline Personality Disorder?
Fear of Abandonment and a Distorted Self Image
I am terrified of being alone. People have been leaving me my whole life. Friends, family, significant others. They've just left me. Which leads me to believe I'm unlovable. I'm the common denominator. I've hung out with so many different kinds of people, and no one stays. There must be something wrong with me. So I started changing how I acted around groups of people. I could be a princess, a goth, a Christian, a rebel, kinky, a home maker, a geek, innocent, or a holy terror. Which group of people I was around is how I acted. I ran away from home, smoked cigarettes in high school, went to bars while underage, smoked pot, and was promiscuous. And in the process, I have no idea who the hell I am.
All I know is that I don't know who I am and people always leave. They always wake up and realize what a pile of crazy shit I am, and bail. I've come to expect it. I've come to encourage it. Just saves time in the long run. My brain tells me I don't deserve to be happy, that I've done horrible things in my life and can't be happy.
At least that's my my BPD tells me. And I'm just now learning that it's my BPD that has distorted many things in my life. It's turned my life into a mirage where it's hard to differentiate between what I've made up and what is real. I don't know what thoughts are real and normal or made up and erratic. I'm constantly questioning myself and how I feel, which just makes me frustrated, which makes me irritable. It's this never ending circle of bat shit crazy.
And it's exhausting. But it's something that, since I'm now aware of it, I have to learn to live with and handle. I have to learn to not let my fear of abandonment keep me from people. I can't let my distorted self image keep me from seeking love from people. And I can't let either keep me from working on finding out who I am underneath all the made up personalities, masks, and filth.
I'll let you know what I find.
Fear of Abandonment and a Distorted Self Image
I am terrified of being alone. People have been leaving me my whole life. Friends, family, significant others. They've just left me. Which leads me to believe I'm unlovable. I'm the common denominator. I've hung out with so many different kinds of people, and no one stays. There must be something wrong with me. So I started changing how I acted around groups of people. I could be a princess, a goth, a Christian, a rebel, kinky, a home maker, a geek, innocent, or a holy terror. Which group of people I was around is how I acted. I ran away from home, smoked cigarettes in high school, went to bars while underage, smoked pot, and was promiscuous. And in the process, I have no idea who the hell I am.
All I know is that I don't know who I am and people always leave. They always wake up and realize what a pile of crazy shit I am, and bail. I've come to expect it. I've come to encourage it. Just saves time in the long run. My brain tells me I don't deserve to be happy, that I've done horrible things in my life and can't be happy.
At least that's my my BPD tells me. And I'm just now learning that it's my BPD that has distorted many things in my life. It's turned my life into a mirage where it's hard to differentiate between what I've made up and what is real. I don't know what thoughts are real and normal or made up and erratic. I'm constantly questioning myself and how I feel, which just makes me frustrated, which makes me irritable. It's this never ending circle of bat shit crazy.
And it's exhausting. But it's something that, since I'm now aware of it, I have to learn to live with and handle. I have to learn to not let my fear of abandonment keep me from people. I can't let my distorted self image keep me from seeking love from people. And I can't let either keep me from working on finding out who I am underneath all the made up personalities, masks, and filth.
I'll let you know what I find.
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