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I don't even know where to begin... .Having my first Son six years ago was a total epiphany. It was the first time in my life that it dawned on me... ."how does she treat me this way"? There was this perfect little boy on my chest, and I was increasingly consumed with the realisation that my life had not been... .well, "normal".

I haven't even scrolled through this board. I don't know if I can. Or want to. I do know that I feel alone. Totally alone. Like no one else could possible understand, or even picture what I have seen and been through.

In Understanding the Borderline Mother, Lawson speaks of annihilating rage... .and I could not find the better words. Reading that book make very well be the most validating experience of my life.

I am 35. With a perfect home, perfect family, perfect children - a total perfectionist, with a successful career - yet, somehow, I have failed, on every single level, to satisfy my Mother.

Perfectionism, by the way, is not a quality. It is a flaw. And in my opinion, a symptom of damage. Why must I perfect? Because there's a very little, fragile girl in me who figures - maybe, just maybe if I get it right this time, Mommy will be happy.

My Mother is undiagnosed. Therapists are all idiots, in her "humble" opinion. The only reason she ever went to therapy was "to fix me". I sometimes wish desperately that I could get that "stamp" --- that official, "congratulations! She's Borderline" -- but then, I think - what difference would it make? Whatever label we choose, or whatever conclusion is reached, she will never, and I mean - never, look within herself and consider that maybe, even just maybe she is to blame, or responsible - or even, totally not to blame, but in a position to make things better.

My Mother has hated me for as long as I can remember. Slapping me across the face at 2 years of age would be one of the first testaments to that... .She will profess her love to me, but only in an argument --- "Oh for God's sake, you know I love you"... .but in truth, I can't remember the last time she uttered the simple words "I love you". I can't remember the last time she hugged me. Or kissed me. I don't remember the last time she bought me a birthday present, or praised me.

I am a highly regarded professional, yet - she pounces on every opportunity to remind me I am nothing. My children are wonderful, compassionate, giving children, yet she pounces on every opportunity to point out their shortcomings. I keep a beautiful home, yet she will desperately seek out the one light pocket where lingers a cobweb, to remind me that I am a pig. I make home cooked meals - which she systematically refuses to eat. The groceries I buy aren't good, my kids' shoes are too big, my Husband is useless, my business partner is a b___, our family is all asss, my house is a pig sty, my hair is ugly, I am so thin I look like a rat, my friends are all just using me, I should have been aborted, I am selfish, neurotic, retarded, a b___, hateful... .as you can imagine, the list goes on.

Despite withstanding this for as long as I remember, I am happily married, with happy children, and I am efficient and self-sufficient... .but inside, I long for a Mom. Desperately. Someone I can call, and share my deepest thoughts, without the fear of hearing "you're sick, you're too much, you're hysterical... ." - yeah, I think you get it.

I worry every day that I will suddenly reach my "breaking point" --- where all of this catches up to me, and destroys me. I have faith in my strength, but objectively - wonder how strong one person can be.

At what point do you cut ties? I am all she has. No friends. No other family. At what point do I throw in the towel? She is my Mother.

Hi Drifty,

*welcome*

Damaged or resilient? Maybe both, like those of us who have landed here. Have you seen this thread? https://bpdfamily.com/message_board/index.php?topic=280739.0;all

By the description of you life, I'd say you're darn resilient, especially still dealing with your mother. It sounds tiresome to say the least. Though you've made a great life fir yourself despite her, it sounds like you're still walking on eggshells. Around her, for sure, but maybe also around yourself?

It sounds like your mother is still very involved in your life. What kind of boundaries do you assert to protect yourself?

Lawson talks about fairy tale husbands. I think as children, our parents ca treat us like fairy tale children. As adults, we can rationalize it; but in reality,.we're still often trapped in the childhood dynamic. Knowing what's real (that you have made something of yourself) is one thing. It's the feeling that you haven't, the fleas from a lfetime of invlidation, which remains damaging.

We talk a lot on this site about validating the pwBPD in our lives. Yet we often forget to validate ourselves.

Turkish

Hi Drifty,

I was a perfectionist like you. A severe life threatening illness stopped it for me after 3 hospitalizations but my fathers insults didn't stop. He still tells me Im

messy and I haven't been anything but almost OCD clean since age 12. He had no compassion for my illness which he just sees as weakness. My "failure" gave me nearly depression, but it was a turning point for me. I cried for weeks. But I learned what my father saw as failure was only expected set backs in life. When we have the permission to not be perfect all the time we are so much happier. We you and I are more than the role our parents set up for us. If you're like me it improves relationships with others to admit your faults suddenly because before they thought I was "stuck up". It's impossible to make a BPD parent "happy" as in approval. I loved him and sent him gifts. That's all I could do.

If say you're pretty resilient btw! Definitely a survivor