BPDFamily.com

No, it's not a wolf in a wig sitting under a lamp in the corner, she really is  :)

The Rescue

I had just arrived at work yesterday when I got a call from her area code. It was her PA (Physician's Assistant, or she could be a Nurse Practitioner), calling me to say that they had her at the clinic. She had my mom's permission to talk to me (which makes things a lot easier). Her truck was MIA, and my mom had been hitchhiking in 20-30F weather along the side of the highway. She was not quite asking me to come get her. I told her that my mom didn't have heat. That was enough. The PA told me that when she had hitch-hiked to the hospital down the highway, that the guy who assaulted her found her at the hospital and went there. A police report was filed, supposedly. The PA suggested she get a restraining order. I replied that it was about as good as the paper it was printed on, and she agreed. So there was the added factor of removing her from danger.

I said that I needed to pass down some things at work, go home to get cold weather gear (Non-Californians are probably laughing at this), and that I would be there within about 4 hours. It's a 2.5 hour drive, around 130 miles. I called my Ex to ask if she could watch the kids, since it was my custody night. She said no problem. Anything to get extra time with them. (She checked in last night with me to ask if she wanted me to watch the kids for the weekend. No! I worry about the recent over-enmeshment between her and D3, but that's another story.)

I made good time, and stopped on the way to check in with a friend who is local there. Then I drove up the mountain and stopped at the local convenience store. They asked me about her. She's apparently become a General Store Fly. They told me that she will sit out front and babble to the air. A few days ago, one of the employees saw her throw up on the sidewalk, clean it up and then leave. They weren't mean about it, but she was starting to bother some of the customers. I sensed genuine concern on their part, too. It's a small town.

As I arrived at the clinic, I was met by the PA. She told me that she gave my mom a mental health assessment test for an involuntary psychiatric hold. In California, that's a 5150. The PA said that she was one point short of a 30 point test of being held. My buddy later quipped, "so she's 5149."

My mom was glad to see me, but not as glad as when I saw her two weeks ago. They wouldn't let her leave and she was frustrated. She started telling me about "they are always messing with the calendar. Why do they keep changing Christmas every year? That clinic doesn't even have clocks on the wall so you can't tell what time it is." I knew better than to JADE.

We drove to a storage facility to get packing material for her china. I said that I wanted to go home not too long after dark. She replied, "oh, we'll be working long past dark! I knew it was going to be like this!" I bit my tongue. As we were going into the showroom, she said that she was hallucinating. She commented that she always took care of people who did, but now knew what they were seeing. I didn't ask what she was seeing. Don't ask, don't tell.

They didn't have bubble wrap. So I drove ten miles down the hill go a box store to get supplies. She seemed a little calmer by then, but I was still envisioning doing whatever she wanted to do at 11PM in 25F weather, in the mud and ice, with flashlights.

We ended up getting out of there within an hour. She switched from whatever she had in her mind to just getting the essentials. I think it will be ok as long as she trusts me. Even super validation skills may not work if she dissociates. The medical people still can't figure out what is going on other than PTSD.

Being so cold, the home didn't smell as badly as it normally does (at least my eyes weren't watering from the mildew, animal waste, and food rot) though the dust and lack of humidity due to the cold were causing me to cough. We abandoned packing the china, and just focused on a few bags, some toys she had gotten for the kids, and her two elderly Chihuahuas. Her truck ended up being parked in her drive. I dropped the spare keys off at my friend's work (my brother from another mother), and he said he would get it today. She wasn't driving because the battery is shot. Who knows how that happened.

She was slamming the county she formerly loved, even the people at the store (because they rejected her in her mind). She told me, "I need to pick better friends." I didn't say that I've noticed the same pattern since I was a little boy. Friends are super white, then worse than black holes in her mind.

It was strange, but mile after mile driving home, she seemed to get better. We stopped for fast food as I hadn't eaten in 8 hours. She devoured a huge burger. Even she was surprised. I got a chicken sandwich from the dollar menu (I probably outweigh her by over 100 lbs). I kept talking about how the next month would go, assuring her that I had no problem supporting her, but that it would be nice to transfer her bank account and social security locally. Finding a local health care provider will be my job, I also know. The legality, the horde, and the property issues are another matter. One crisis at a time.

The Chihuahuas took to the house. The little devil teacup kept trying to bite and challenge me. I said, "Look, I'm the alpha here! My house, my rules!" The little imp was angry, baring and snarling, which is maybe an octave lower than a snarling chipmunk given such a small beast.

My mom's cell phone was out of minutes, and she didn't know the pin. So after giving her a tour of the small house, making sure she had the tv, food, showing her how to use the microwave and such, I left her at home this morning. I have no way of getting ahold her her. I didn't want to show her the alarm pad with the medical panic button. I referred her to a neighbor across the street. I'll see how she did today in an hour or so. I haven't gotten any emergency calls, but we'll take care of the phone situation this weekend. I'll probably get a land line (I haven't had one in 16 years) as well.

I can handle the slow mental processing. It's hallucinating and the black and white thinking that get to me. I suppose the default is to 5150 her if things get really out of hand. We'll see in a few days how things go. I get the kids back Friday evening.

I set up and account for her on my computer and downloaded some solitaire games. She's computer illiterate to the point of being a cave-woman (never try to teach a Waif how to use a computer). I said, "look Mom, touch screen!" I still envision returning home to a smoking pile of slag where my nice PC used to sit. "How could that have possibly happened!"

So, as Red Foreman once said, "Fun time is over!" My life is now irrevocably changed. I kind of felt the anxiety deep down on the way to work today. Taking care of little kids is easy. An elderly person? Does anyone know if I can put her on a time-out? lol

The most annoying thing was that she forgot her thyroid medication at her house shack. I didn't have much of a problem calling the clinic and getting it transferred down here, with me authorized to pick it up.  

So, this is how it starts, ends, or goes. My mom asked me a few times when my Ex was going to bring the kids home. I said that she didn't live there anymore. "Oh, right... ." She is really out of it.

Turkish, it is indeed a new era.

I recently lost my dad (93 years old, a well-lived life) and have bought a house in my hometown and moved my 89 year old Mom into that house. She had a uNPD/BPD stepmother who reared her (ha!) from the point of 6 years old (my mom) and 18 (the step mom). Ugh! So my mom has PTSD and some fleas.

The good news is that my husband says that he's never seen me as patient as I've been with Mom this year. I think this forum has helped me prepare.

I will hold you in my heart. This isn't easy!

Hi Turkish

So how's grandma wolf doing now? And how are you doing?

This is a huge change indeed. Now it will be more important than it's probably been in a long time to really prepare yourself mentally and emotionally as best you can. I think this would be a good time to review the material about mindfulness, things you can do to end the cycle of conflict, boundaries and the various communication techniques.

I am very glad though that you've managed to get her away from there before the extreme cold arrived. No matter what has happened in the past and how difficult her behavior can still be, she's still your mother and it becomes clear from your posts that in spite of everything you do care about her.

Good thing you stamped your authority on those chihuahuas, you really need to show them who's the leader of the wolf pack!

One step at a time |iiii

Wow Turkish. 

I've been away from here for a little while but have been following your story since Thanksgiving. Everything you are doing for your mom is incredibly admirable. You have given it so much thought and are doing a great job at keeping things in balance with her as much as possible. There is so much there to juggle.

Loved the description of the elderly chihuahua beasts  :) Kudos for all you are doing and for having a plan B if it doesn't work out.

My mother also hoards... .it seems so many of the BPD parents do? We think she was beginning to suffer from dementia too, which meant we were all suffering   So I can relate to a lot of what you talk about. Your mom is very lucky to have you caring for her. 

I'm sorry for your loss Gagrl. I can imagine it is hard on your mom, too (which is probably harder on you).

It's so strange that someone can have PTSD their whole lives. I think my mom's gets triggered by recent events, but the root goes back over 60 years. Given a probably lifetime of ongoing "oddness," it probably never quite goes away due to the choices that a pwBPD makes. A mess of their own lives, basically. My Ex's drama was mostly from her head. So is that of a dBPD family friend. Also the decades of incident after incident, and loss after loss my mom experienced.

I won't update this thread every day, but here is... .

The First Night

What's the number one fear of a pwBPD? Abandonment.

I abandoned my mom by going to work.

I pulled into the driveway and went straight across the street to talk the neighbors to give them my number and tell them what was going on. They told me that the husband had quadruple bypass surgery 7 weeks ago (which explains why I hadn't seen them much). Not being rude, I sat and listened. After a while, the wife noticed my mom on the street looking for me. I bid them farewell and caught my mom on the street. She was at the home of another neighbor's, people no one likes and the wife might be BPD or untreated Bi-polar, asking what time it was. I caught up to her and she was in bad shape emotionally, I could tell.

There's an old Eddie Murphy routine where he describes old people, "What time is it? I'm cold. I don't know what time it is and I'm cold!" The first thing my mom started going off on me about was the lack of clocks in the house. There was a power outage last summer, and I never reset the stove clock. She also thought I'd be back by 2PM, not 5 PM as I had repeatedly told her. She started talking about people "messing with the calendar." After that, it was full Waif mode. Talking about how she was a prisoner here and it took her hours to figure out how to open the door to go outside. That where she was she had freedom and friends. The friend comment is interesting since it alternates with not being able to trust anyone in the mountains. Observing splitting back and forth in a single conversation is really remarkable.

She started telling me that I had talked to her ex-Friend (the one who also has BP, and told me that), that I talk to her for hours and told her all sorts of things. I replied that I didn't talk to her other than for a few seconds two weeks ago when my mom was at her house and they called me, and for a little while last week when her friend called me to tell me my mom was at the hospital. My mom said, "you're lying!" She said that her friend was sweet on me and thought I was rich (I wish my mom had never told her I owned a home), and was looking for a "rich guy." I repeated calmly, "mom, I never talked to her." I was mindful to not accuse her friend nor my mom of anything.

She walked to the other side of the kitchen and started going off on how she "couldn't do this" and wanted to go back. Here I thought I'd try one of the techniques my T used (this veers away from the BPD communication tools): The Truth. Short, direct. I said, "you can certainly go back, mom. And they will detain you." "Why would they do that?" "You can't drive, and you're not safe there." I stopped myself from citing the 5150 criteria ("danger to self, others, or unable to care for one's self". I set the clock on the stove. That seemed to mollify her a little. I was so frustrated, especially after she called me a liar, that I was almost willing to trigger her and turn her in. Aside from the moral component, I think in some way I may be legally responsible for her at this point. Up until it becomes a danger to me (or the kids for sure), I'll have to deal with this the best I can.

I said that we needed to go see the kids to take their medicine bag since I wouldn't get them back for two days. She seemed to think I was abandoning her again. I had to repeat that we were both going to go. She complained about not seeing the kids. I said that we were going to my Ex-laws' house to give it to them. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

When we got there, it was better almost instantaneously. My Ex's family hadn't seen her for about 2.5 years (my Ex left two years ago). I think my Ex's mom was crying being happy to see her. They fed my mom, and I also ate, though I usually decline. The kids were happy to see my mom and running around like the hooligans they are, especially with their little cousin now living in grandma's house.

An aunt, uncle, cousins and my Ex's grandmother (who's almost 90) dropped in. My mom really loved that old lady, even though they can't speak each other's language. Based upon stories my Ex used to tell about how horrible her grandmother was to my Ex's mother back in the day, this may be where BPD started in their family. Now she's a harmless old lady, a matriarch.

We departed after about an hour. My mom was much better. We stopped by a store to get a bath mat (so my mom won't slip in the shower), and went home. My mom commented, "I thought it went well with [my Ex]." I said that it did, and that it depended upon my Ex's mood, which could vary. My mom replied, "well, that's BPD." I didn't bother to review the previous two hours with her regarding her own behaviors.  :)

I suppose this may get better after a routine sets in. The memory lapses are still there, and I try to be patient in having to repeat things several times. I left coffee and her pill with a note on the counter. COFFEE-->  PILL--->

I'm a hermit who doesn't fear abandonment, and can self-soothe. It jarred me that my mom kept following me around the house and talking to me. So I sat down and watched part of a show with her. Then I retreated to my bedroom, read for a few minutes and tried to sleep. She seemed ok this morning. I set up Netflix to one of her shows, telling her that it would keep going through episodes for at least a few hours. If she messes up the remote (which is probable), then I'd be home by 5. The dog was still growling at me this morning. It's hard to dog-whisper something with the brain the size of a walnut.

Last night we talked about her medical issues. She said that her PA was very helpful. I said that she was, but that it was all up to us (me) now, getting her a provider close by based upon her Medicare (socialized healthcare for the elderly in the US). I've got a lot to do, more than I think or feel right now.

Hi Turkish.  What a major change for you and your mom.  Yikes.  As someone already said, it is not easy taking care of an elderly parent, especially one who has an emotional disorder.

Don't forget to plug into your states Elder Services when you can. 

I keep trying to think of supportive words, but they have already been said here.

Praying for you and yours.   

WOW, that is so true about the time and calendar! When I moved Mom into the house I bought, we had a combination of her furnishings and new furniture. We unpacked and organised, and I swear I got no peace until I hung her calendar and bought a good wall clock with numerals large enough for her to see.

We are about to spend nearly 2 weeks together, so it should be interesting, to say the least.

Tomorrow: Wally World to get supplies. Burner phone, WALL CLOCK (do they still make those cat clocks with the moving eyes?). She's insistent about shopping for clothes at a thrift store, more power to her.

Today was better. She's calmer. It's amazing that a hoarder living in filth can criticize you about the cleanliness of your house. She cleaned! Kids came back tonight. It's good. I'm going to get internal and external cameras soon. If she can kick me some money, that will help pay for it. At some point, it will give her value for contributing, too.

Yes Harri. I'm going to plug into a senior center. Maybe see of I can get someone to come by and take her out now and then while I'm at work.

Turkish, that is an amazing story. I actually am deep in the chapter on the waif in understanding the borderline mother. Thank you for sharing your life with us.

The First Week

It got better after the first night when I "abandoned" her to go to work, was keeping her a prisoner, and was conspiring against her with a friend whom she has painted black, having called me a liar. The PTSD symptoms have recided.

The words of a neglected child, after I cautioned her about walking my neighborhood, "it feels strage to have someone take care of me." It mist be, after having emancipated herself at 16, almost 58 years ago.

It's testing my patience having to deal with making up for 20% or more the lack of her cognitive ability. Multiple trips to stores, when one would do. The PTSD has died down, thankfully, but she's still painted black her old friends. One keeps calling me. Tonight, my mom sad that she would talk to her. It's paranoia about this who.am stealing her junk. We, I, still have the property and hoard issues to deal with, but it was snowing there today. We were close, but I had the kids with me, and couldn't travel to her property. That will soon be a huge legal mess as well.

Though she said she wasn't Dx'd with alzheimher's, her cognitive functions are way off. She locked me out on the back porch tonight. She thought tomorrow was Sunday. I am patient in reminding her of so many things. She got upset last night over D3 not getting a gift fast enough during a party (projection), and I averted an argument.

She can't or won't use the phone. I think it's up to me to research the elderly healthcare. I can see this going downhill fast. I'm getting internal an external cameras installed next month. Monotoring will only go so far. I need to be ready for a severe downturn. I can't lose my job. I have myself and my kids to care for.

Wow, I am taking notes from all of you.

None of us knows the future, but when it comes to my mother, basically, I am all she has left. The others, including her FOO, put on a good show " your mother is just wonderful". They invite her for holiday meals, but when it all comes down to it, not a single one of them would be there if she was not able to live independently.

I have spoken with my H, and neither one of us is willing to have her live with us. She is just too demanding and controlling. However, she has informed me that she is on the waiting list for a retirement/assisted living facility near me.

Anyone who would have an idea of what growing up with her was like would not blame me for going NC, but like many of you here, the idea of an elderly helpless mother is something I don't wish to have the Karma for. I don't think it is FOG, but my own ethics that would make this feel wrong to me. However, it would be a challenge to have boundaries with her as she does not respect them. At a distance, it is easier to have boundaries.

I don't feel enmeshed, but this is certainly a challenge for any of us, because, although our mothers were difficult, they are not the young, vigorous people who seemed to have power over us when we were children. Yet, they have BPD and all the interpersonal issues that go with it.

Turkish,

I feel for you. I hope you get as much help as you can, for the sake of your family and your sanity. If she really is not able to be left alone, then I hope there are alternative placements for her, at least adult day care where someone else can supervise her.

It is hard to care for a parent who has cognitive issues and/or is mentally ill. I have friends who have done this, but up to a point. They have been able to hire help, but when the parent needs 24/7 supervision they have decided it is more than they can handle.

My MIL is not mentally ill and is cognitively intact, but all her children have to work, and so, she is in assisted living. It is not ideal, but it is the best her family can do.

I think self care applies to us always. We can do our best, but we have to take care of ourselves.

Long day. Almost 10PM and I'm finally able to get on here fr more than a minute.

My mom was about to go to bed, but followed me outside for a smoke. She follows me everywhere. This is the most time I've spent with her since I was in my early teens.

Late last night, she latched the back door and locked me out. Since my little monsters went through a phase where they thought this was funny, I always carry my keys in my pocket. Later, I opened my side gate to go in the front door. She awoke, but didn't remember. I and more so D3 have had lingering sickness. She had awaken crying at 10:30PM due to ear pain. I dosed her and comforted her to sleep.

I got inside after 12am, and the smaller dog zipped inside, climbed up my sleeping mom and was growling at me. I thought the nice one was hiding. I didn't care that they were inside so I went to bed.

At 3am, I sensed something. S5 wasn't in bed (I've had them sleep with me and the humidifier, because my daughter and I awake coughing in the middle of the night). The hallway light was on and my mom was out of bed (the couch). S5 was tucking himself in their, saying he'd had a nightmare.

My mom was on the back porch smoking and angry. I had forgotten to close the side gate, and the nice dog got loose. She started going off how it wasn't working living here, and things weren't safe and so on. I apologized for leaving the gate open (I had to remind her again tonight that she locked me outside), but she was waiting out or something. I had made an appointment for my daughter to be seen this morning for her ear, since she has a history of ear infections. So this Christmas morning, I piled everyone into the car to go to the clinic. Thankfully, no infection, just fluid.

Tonight my mom was good, but she made a comment about what a rough night it was. I may have grunted a validating response. And here is where it turns back to me: I understand how attached she is to her little fuzz-monsters, but I'm the one who dealt with a dysregulating elderly person, and a sick little kid on Christmas (Better than my Ex's suicide ideation Christmas Day in '11!) I don't think it was that hard, just annoying. I think with all that my mom put us through when I was younger, including being temporaily homeless, living in a camper and the rest, this is no big deal (ok, despite that I am here complaining about it). It may be that my mom... .prepared me for my mom. Thankfully, I have a small house due to my uBPDx, because this really would suck if I were living in the old studio where I was for 7 years before I met the mother of my children.

Despite my complaints, at least I don't have to put up with being yelled at, smacked around,.or having things thrown at me like when I was a kid, so that's something  :)

I think it is a challenge, even in the best of circumstances. But at the moment, this is new, and adjustment phase. She may be testing your boundaries. It could all possibly settle down, but if not, you will have known you tried.

In a way, it is like introducing a new child into the family, but a "child" who has been in more control of their lives as well as had control over you when you were a child. A "child" with adult privileges, and a legal adult.

Some of these issues are common to families even in the best of circumstances. My in laws were stubborn, and insisted on staying in their large home with stairs past the point where is was safe. MIL kept falling and it was not until her doctors insisted that she had to move or get constant help that she even considered it. It is hard to lose control of your life and have to leave your familiar home. Giving up driving is another tough milestone, something grown children argue with elderly parents over. So add BPD, co dependency and other dynamics to this and it has to be a challenge.

I had not spent much time at home since I left for college and at one point, went to stay with my mother when my father was in the hospital to help out. I didn't think it would be a big deal. For only short visits, I didn't see what living with her would be like. Also, she had blamed me for her issues when I was a teen, and I had assumed that this was over with. I didn't know anything about how to manage BPD at the time. It was quite a shock to see that things had not changed, but this time, I was an adult, not a child, and what she was able to pass over as "normal" or "my fault" was obviously not.

I know that things would have been different if I had the information, support, and resources on this board, and the personal work I did. As you said, your mother prepared you for her. But it still is an adjustment even in the best of circumstances. You have changed and matured, but she may not know this yet. Her behaviors may be the same and she will use what has worked for her all along. But with firm boundaries, this adjustment may settle down some. I also think some kind of respite- adult day care, or some caretaker, to let you be a family with just your kids, and also give you a break- and her a social outlet besides your family could be helpful here.

Sounds like you had quite a Christmas, Turkish. I think I joined you in the sick kids department, although it was my 2 year old grandson that we had in the ER Christmas Eve. They are treating him for pneumonia. It does add to the normal chaos of life, doesn't it?

Something NotWendy said reminded me of words that our marriage T keeps telling me:

"You changed the rules to the game, and he doesn't know how to play anymore."


Sometimes I don't appreciate the comment from my T because I'm still dealing with my own issues of always feeling as if I've done something wrong, but the reality is that I have changed and gotten healthier. That's positive. As a result, like you, I'm better able to handle many of the previously dysfunctional triggering behaviors, and I don't react the same anymore.  |iiii You are sharing with us some of your frustrations, and I'm very glad that you have the freedom to do so and take advantage of it.  :) So healthy for you to do this with a 'safe' family!

All that being said, your mom may not like being there because you don't tolerate the things that you did before. It is so ironic to me that as I get healthier, my relationship with my DH gets more stressed. One would hope that healthy yields healthy all along the way, but sadly it doesn't work that way, especially with those who operate mainly in dysfunction or especially BPD.

I think it sounds like you are doing well. From a previous thread you had mentioned that you can tend to cope rather than sooth yourself. How are you doing in this regard? We survivors can hide away as our waifish traits that we learned emerge.

Kudos to you with your pack. 

Wools

Thanks for reminding me of what Notwendy said. That sears it into my brain, which needs it. Similar to what my T said, "personalities typcally don't change," when referring to my Ex. The kids will be with their mom for ten days after tomorrow, so I will have some more time.

I am calling a local senior center tomorrow (or Monday if no one's available) to get my mom hooked into resources. It bugged me tonight when I said, "ok, I'm retiring to the back porch to get on my website," she followed me outside for a smoke. Then she talked about wanting to get her truck back, which is safe at my buddy's property in the mountains. I said that if we brought it down here, it would be pulled over left and right. Aside from all of the dents, the tailgate is held on by a wrapped sterl cable, and it's missing the front grille. My mom said, "give me a break." I let it go. She's never driving again, and I'll turn her into DMV myself if I have to. She said she'd like to get it fixed. I would, too, as it used to be my truck, and it would be handy. It runs well.

Then I said that we needed to take care of the back property taxes, and see about getting her name on the titles to her 5 acres, and his 2 acres. I said that it was good to take one thing at a time, because all that I just mentioned is at least $10k. She admitted that I was right. If I don't initiate things, nothing will get done. I said that we need to cancel her electricity and water, because those bills are just racking up.

This isn't age. In 1983, we mved to her 25 acres after she lost her house to a short sale... Due to her depression, and BPD, the latter of which probably resulted in her getting fired from her nrsing supervisory job, she lost the 25 acres. After this, we lived in a camper, and were kind of homeless (2 days for real on the streets of Houston, Texas, after a failed 2.5 "experiment" to flee California (her problems).

For a woman wh's been on her own since 16, it's been one mess followed by another, punctuated by short periods of stability.

The one positive note I have to say is that while I was getting the kids to bed, she swept and cleaned the tile floor in the kitchen. She hates the Swiffer mop, and used baking soda and paper towels (hopefully with her feet... .I was busy for half an hour getting my high maintenence kds--- D3--- to sleep). The floor looked really good! Grandma wisdom. She said her mom used to do that back in the '40s and '50s. Lifehack?

I remind her to take her thyroid medication every evening, because sometimes she forgets. The other positive is that she is eating better (and in a clean environment). She self diagnosed with bulimia a few months ago, the first I'd ever heard of it. I thought she getting skinny was just age, because she's always been a little overweight. I made them all spaghetti tonight, and served my mom a good portion, plus a vegetable. Now she's in the kitchen making herself a sandwich. The nightly tutoring using the PS3 controller to navigate Netflix is ongoing, but she seems to pick up a few percent each day. Maybe I'll see if Hoarders is on Netflx. 

Thank you for everyone's posts, they are really helpful to read. I got to spend some time with my elderly grandmother before she passed away (90s), and I think she was the BPD matriarch. :)

This is a big transition for all of you. I am glad there are also some positives and that your mother is eating better.


You should never underestimate an old wolf, they might yet surprise you!


Bad Wolf! :)

Week 3

The PTSD issues seem to have died down. She feels safe. She's even working in the yard. She pulled some weeds in the back and it looked like a goat had chewed a patch. I keep telling her that my lawn mower is broken beyond something my ability can't fix. The shop is closed for vacation, and I'll get it in on Monday.

I told her today that I had looked into getting non-medical home care, maybe someone to come by once a week and take her out for a few hours to go to the stores. She replied warily that this could be a good thing, or maybe not. This is her trust issue. She's a registered nurse, so she knows of this world. She also told me back in the day that she went through 7 therapists before she found one whom she could trust.

There are things 3-5 blocks away, even a Starbucks, but behind this street, she's lost. She's been walking the street with the Chihuhuas, talking to neighbors, which is good. I only talk regularly to one, and know 3. The family next door is new, and they seem friendly.

For me, this is probably the most consecutive time I've spent with her in 30 years. It may be more unnerving for me. She hugs me now and then. She needs it. I alter between not liking it and being neutral. Imagine a son who doesn't want to hug his own mother?

The hoarding hasn't started, though she keeps talking about her stuff.

I told her my buddy was coming from out of town to visit for a few hours this weekend. She got a look on her face and said, "F____ doesn't like me." I said, "Ex used to say the same thing. You both are hyper-attuned to emotions." There's a small percentage of truth there, but this is the BPD in byte of their cases, triggered by rejection. I didn't explain to my mom that my friend whom I've known for close to 30 years remembers the summer of her Breakdown, where we went over to her house and movex as much of her hoard as we could out of storage. She lost what we couldn't move, some valuable antiques.

We had arrived with his truck and she was in a bad state. Crying, Waifing out. My then teenage friend was standing by the truck, wondering why we weren't going, as I stood on the front porch taking to my crying and angry mother. She looked at me and said, "just go!" I was so pissed that I thought about it. I had moved out 8 months before. I was tempted, but was so fed up that I told myself, "if I leave now, I'll never come back, and I won't care." I loved 50 miles away, in college, but came back on weekends to work, and my buddy's dad let me stay with them.

So at 18 years of age, I stifled the urge to go NC, talked her down, and we spent the next few hours moving stuff. My mom had just started therapy, remembered her molestation, and was on Prozac, which made things worse.

I had a session with my T last week. He said that I was a dutiful son. Does duty equal love? Maybe in some form. Ii remember my T saying to me a year ago or more regarding my Ex, "there's nothing wrong with being patient and kind. Those are aspects of love."

I am way more patient with my mom than my Ex even as a co-parent. My T was referring to  1st Corinthians 13 (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Corinthians+13)

So I'm struggling more inside at the moment. I left her grilled taco meat two days in a row for her to make lunch. Tonight, I made it for her, Mexican street taco style: fresh cilantro and onions. I've left her a small bowl of blueberries two days in a row. When I asked today why she didn't eat them, the response was the same, "I was saving them for you." Today, like yesterday, I showed her the strainer, where the bulk the blueberries were, "We have plenty, mom." For the second day, I couldn't tell if she had eaten, though there is plenty of food... The can of corned beef that she opemed a week ago sits in the fridge; I'm tossing it tomorrow. The ramen soups I bought for her remain untouched. I've been eating them late at night, not something I normally have.

Do I have a New Year's resolution here? I always found such things arbitrary. I'm sitting on the back porch, throwing back a few, chain smoking, listening to the lively party at the house behind me, and the music of others nearby. Mom's asleep by now on the couch in front of the tv. The loving (sometimes) and supportive (not) wife left two years ago. The Chihuhuas are cozy in their carrier next to me with their heating pad. My Ex has the kids for a week, so I can't hug or cuddle with them. I could give the nice Chihuahua a bath and cuddle with it, but the little vixens aren't house broken so they can stay outside in their carrier.

Am I whining? Cue a country song. Life has changed, but it's stable for now; the new normal. One day at a time. New Year, new life.

   Great story Turkish! Happy new year to you as well!

I am so impressed with how you are handling this.


My mother lives a distance from me, not impossibly far, but far enough that she would have to have someone bring her to visit. We visit her. Easier for me to drive to her, stay awhile, and then leave. Having my own car gives me the sense of security that I can leave. She is fine, has family and friends where she is and an active social life.

Yet, she will test me sometimes " when I come live closer to you" " when I come visit you". If I say nothing she pushes the topic until I say "ok mom". I know better than to say "no way". The times I did that led to dysregulations, painting me black to dad, and achieved nothing, because, well, she can do what she wants and I have no control over what she does or will do. But I admit the idea of it isn't appealing. One, because when she did visit, she would suddenly "not feel well" and become the center of attention. She would like down and ask to be taken care of. This, in the middle of the events she did visit for- the kids birthdays, holidays, became all about mom, not the kids.

I can not even imagine that I would find the kitchen floor swept, or something cooked, because, I have not seen her do any of this ever. She looked at me to do it, and now, she has help at home.

On the other hand, I have better boundaries and she is elderly and if she did move near me, I guess I would handle it. Living with me is not an option, it would stress our family sanity.

I don't wish to worry about an unknown- if she visits, if she comes here, is not something that I can control and I don't know if it will happen. It surprises me a bit that she considers this with me, her black child, but on the other hand, it so happens that her black child is the one who lives closest to her. I don't know if it is attachment on her part, or that she just wants to use me. I can't know. It's one of those mysteries. But what I do know is that, I have to act according to my own values, ethics, and  boundaries regardless.

Thanks for this thread. You have my admiration. I have friends who care for their elderly mothers. One is posting on Facebook about how she has the most wonderful mother in the world and loves her so much. I can't even relate to that idea- to have a mother we think of as Mom. I have a mother, but she isn't like the mothers my friends have.

Can you perhaps identify your exact thoughts and feelings when she hugs you?

I don't like hugging my mother or other people. My mother was never a very 'huggy' kind of person and hugging feels very uncomfortable to me. When I was a young kid, I used to kiss her on the cheek when I left to school. At a certain point I stopped doing this though because this 'loving' act totally contradicted the 'unloving' reality I was living in. I do pet her on her head though, just like how I used to pet my parrots :)


This was a pivotal moment in your life. It's 'funny' for lack of a better word how looking back at our lives it are sometimes single moments like this that can make a huge difference. Sometimes little decisions, perhaps not even made fully consciously but more intuitively, turn out to be very significant in hindsight.


I think the topic of duty is very interesting to explore. Decisions made out of a sense of duty are very different to me than decisions out of fear, obligation and guilt. Duty is about a personal choice based on what we believe is the right thing to do in a certain situation, this after carefully assessing the situation and knowing full and well what our decision entails. To me duty is about taking responsibility for things, not out of fear, obligation or guilt but because you believe this is the right thing to do based on your own personal values and morals. It's not about sacrificing ourselves for others, duty works both ways because we also need to be mindful of our own wants and needs and our own capabilities to fulfill this duty. We also have a duty to ourselves which needs to be balanced with the duty we feel to other people.


This makes me think of the Otis Redding song 'Sitting at the dock of the bay'. You seem to be in a reflective mood as I am too:

"Sitting in the morning sun

I'll be sitting when the evening comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sitting on the dock of the bay

Watching the tide roll away

Ooh I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay

Wasting time"

Happy New Year Turkish  

So many thoughts, Turkish, so many changes for you. It is a New Year!   

There are a lot of paradoxes which you have shared in your post:


Safe at times, yet unsure about trusting. She's reaching out to the neighbors, getting to know more of them than you.  Her need for hugs, yet it's a struggle for you. Duty vs love.

No wonder your head is spinning and you are "struggling more on the inside" as you said. There's hardly any norm and steady for you now, but rather the ups and downs of change. I'm not sure how you are, but I love steady because the past with my uBPDm was so unsteady.

Like you and the Parrot, I didn't like hugs from my mom (past tense for me since she is gone). They were always awkward, forced, obligated. I have thought much upon this for myself, feeling badly that I was erecting barriers of protection against her touch. I believe it was because nearly all of her touches were to hurt me when I was a child. How wounding that was to our souls, and we became vigilant to protect ourselves, if not from the physical hurt then from the emotional hurt which always accompanied the physical hurt. Lil Wools remembers what Wools doesn't, and it's Lil Wools who cannot bridge the gap to the current time. So I think there's a reason why we don't like the physical touch from them.

In spite of your inner struggles, you are doing well. You understand and you know how the game works at it's innermost technicalities. I hear that you wish to love her. My T reminds me that I loved to the best of my ability to love when I asked him if I ever really loved her. You are loving, even if by duty, to the best of your ability as well. I loved Kwamina's thoughts:


Words by Robert Frost from 'The Road Not Taken'

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,   

And sorry I could not travel both... .   

   

I shall be telling this with a sigh   

Somewhere ages and ages hence:   

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—   

I took the one less traveled by,   

And that has made all the difference.

You've taken the less traveled road, Turkish. Kudos to you!  |iiii    


Wools

Like you and the Parrot, I didn't like hugs from my mom (past tense for me since she is gone). They were always awkward, forced, obligated. I have thought much upon this for myself, feeling badly that I was erecting barriers of protection against her touch. I believe it was because nearly all of her touches were to hurt me when I was a child. How wounding that was to our souls, and we became vigilant to protect ourselves, if not from the physical hurt then from the emotional hurt which always accompanied the physical hurt. Lil Wools remembers what Wools doesn't, and it's Lil Wools who cannot bridge the gap to the current time. So I think there's a reason why we don't like the physical touch from them.


This is so true. My mother rarely hugs me but I cringe when she does.

I also appreciate what Kwamina says about duty. That is the place from where I see my role with my mother. She needs more help than Turkish's mother, so I could not be the one to be that caretaker. My mother would not take a walk in the neighborhood on her own, or do things around the house. Housework has always been done for her. However a retirement/assisted living near me would be a possibility if this is what she needs in the future. It would also be good for her to have friends there too.

Father, Daughter.

I can't believe  it's come to this, but it has. Her comment the other day about not being used to have someone take care of her is significant.

First, the funny: I live near a small airport. For a number of consecutive days, my mom has gazed into the sky and asked, "what's that?" I replied that it was an airplane. She asked what were the red and green lights. Remembering my sailing days ("green go out, red return", I said that the red lights were on the right, and green on the left. I explained this 3 nights in a row.

Yesterday, I spent the day with my mom, the longest in almost 30 years. I took a cheap toy remote control car my mom got S5 into work to solder a loose wire to fix it. I left her at home, and it was good to get out by myself for an hour. She gave me some cash, and I stooped by the grocery store on the way home. Turkish time. I needed it. I fixed us burritos for lunch when I got home. I don't think that she had dinner.

Today, I made quesedillas with leftover marinated meat. She commented, "it's nice to have a man in the house who can cook." My buddy came in from out of town this afternoon. She made the same comment to him. I didn't make dinner. I saw that she didn't eat dinner, though there's plenty of food. Microvaveable ramen. Sandwiches. Lunch meat.

I'm not a chef, but used to be a cook in my teenage years. Whipping up a basic meal is no problem for me. I get the sense that my mom is starting to expect this, though I've told her that "real" dinners will only happen when the kids are here. She's contibuting around the house: sweeping, folding laundary. The memory issues remain.

The visit with my friend went well, at least. No triggering.

i blew off going to the senior center yesterday. My denial and procrastination,.perhaps...

I recall a moment in my adolescence when I realized I was more of an adult than my mother. It was a bit shocking- I was a young teen and had to obey and listen to a mother who acted younger than I was.

I have had many times where the roles felt reversed. My mother would sign up to bring baked goods to a school function and then come home and rage at me to bake them for her. She had stopped taking me shopping for clothes by the time I was a young teen, yet I would go to the store with her and help her pick out clothes for her. She would give me her clothes to mend. I would cook. As soon as I got my license I would grocery shop.

When she visited me, it was like having another child in the house.

It is great that your mother is helping with cleaning. I would encourage that.

I think you are correct that your cooking for her may become an expectation on her part, and once this happens it will be hard to undo. I also suspect that once this happens, another expectation may start. Your observation of her not eating unless you fix something may be how she is beginning to see this. You may wish to address this by making her responsible for some of the meals- like a calendar where every Monday night is her night to cook. You may find no dinner on Monday, but it makes me think that unless this is a boundary, it could lead to you feeling you are doing more than you wish to.

Hi, Turkish! I've missed your sense of humor.

This is a big step, taking your mother in. I know you have always tried to look after her because she doesn't look after herself, and I can see where your T is coming from in saying you are a "dutiful" son. I think you are also a compassionate son and are working hard to be a good person in general, and those are admirable traits.

I can tell it worries you that your mom doesn't seem to be eating enough. That's understandable, especially considering her diagnosis of bulimia. You do know it is not your responsibility to make sure she eats, right? I mean, whether or not you prepare it for her, it's still up to her to decide what she's willing to eat. Still, it's a concern that would be valid to share with her doctor. If she isn't willing or able to maintain her own nutrition, she may need professional help with that. Do you think this is part of her memory issues, or something else?

I know you know this, too--but there will be ups and downs. I hear you say she has finally calmed down and feels safe. You and I both know that is a transitory state. I believe you will do everything you can to ease her discomfort as much as possible, because that is who you are, and I also want to remind you that no one has the power to make everything all better for her. Sometimes she will be content. Sometimes she will be stark raving mad. Neither of those states is controllable by you, neither is your fault or your responsibility.

Thank you for being you. I learn a lot from what you share with us.

Wishing you peace,

P.F.

Hi P.F.,

Glad to see you back!

The eating is weird. She commented about wanting Kim-Chee this weekend, so I bought some. She only ate a little. I'll probably have to throw it out. I bought some blueberries tonight, saying that they may help with her memory. She ate some. She ate something today, since a few slices of her rye bread were gone. She saw a can of smoked oysters yesterday. I ate new last night, and left the other can out. She didn't touch it. Maybe I have to explicitely tell her: "please eat this." I didn't make dinner tonight. She didn't ask. She was better today after I got home from work, which brings us to yesterday:

The Trip

My Ex had me watch the kds for a few hours Saturday afternoon, despite me not officially getting them back until Wednesday night due to the holiday schedule. I deferred driving to the mountains from Saturday to yesterday. No problem.  Kids come first.

Sunday morning about 8 am, my mom asked through my bedroom door, "Turkish, are you ready to go?" I usually get up at 6, even on weekends (lingering effects from babies), but I've recently eenjoyed going back to sleep for an extra hour, getting 7 hours of sleep...

She said that she was nervous all night, and only got about an hour of sleep, fearful of what she might find. I said that I had said that we were going to leave at 9; we left at 9:10. After two hours of mostly silent driving and AM radio, we arrived at my friend's house. He's keeping my mom's truck n his property, safe. We had lunch at a restaurant and went to her property.

My mom kept going on about her "frenemy" (in her mind) stealing stuff. I opened the door to her trailer and it was stuffed to the door. My mom's explanation was that her friend used a rake to get at the stuff at the top. Not wanting to validate the invald, I didn't say anything. Instead of walking across mud, my mom walked on a patch snow turned to ice and fell on her butt. O had to help her up. Thankfully, no injuries.

I follwoed her around to the back door of the shack... I noticed her muddy footprints in the patch of snow, but I saw a man-sized print pointing out, so someone had indeed been there within the past week.

The back door was closed. I thought about bringing my shotgun just in case the guy who was after her was there, but wisely decided against it. I "cleared" the house, unarmed. It was ten degrees colder inside. The electricity was still, on. I commented upon cancelling it, but my mom said it wouldn't be a good idea. She got some clothes from her room (my old room, though I only lived there about 7 months before I moved out at 18). I brought a respirator for the filfth, but given the cold, it didn't smell much, unlike warmer weather when the mildew, smoke, and animal waste makes it unbeathable.

Her feral cat turned tame was meowing from underneath the Hoard. I felt badly it's a sweet cat. I opened 3 cans of food for him. He was thin, but not ribby. He eats wild things. My mom's feral chicken showed up. Predators ate its family, but the chicken has survived in the woods on its own for weeks. It looked healthy. The bird came on the back porch and was pecking at the cat food for protein. Tough bird. Someone should sequence its DNA; it's obviously a superior example of its otherwise brainless species.

We had left packing materials three weeks ago so my mom could pack her mother's heirloom china from The Depression. After 30 mins, my mom's hands were ice. Like the first night I took her away from there, she was ready to leave all of a sudden. She said, "I guess I'm going to have to live here again." No.

For 7 place settings of heirloom china, we took a tea pot and a dairy dispenser.I hid in another room the plates she had started to pack and we left.

When we got back to my friend's place,  my  buddy had moved her truck (my old truck) from below his deck to the road. My mom kept asking for the keys. I said that the truck was unlocked, and that we came back to get the clothes she had in there. This conversation went on for about ten minutes, with me giving her bags to get her clothes.

"I need my keys."

"Why? The truck is unlocked. Get your clothes."

"But I need to drive my truck home."

"The truck's staying here where it is safe. You live with me now in the city."

"Oh yeah, I do, don't I?"

"Yes."

I won't detail the conversation where she wanted to drive it to the city...

After over 100 miles back, and ten mins from my home on a mostly silent drive, she suddenly asked, "where are my dogs? Are they at your house or mine?" I assured her that we were close to home and about to see them.

Going "home" for her was exremely dissociating. I was depressed and down all day at work today. It's tough to remain centered, even givin a 40 min conversation with my uBPDx last night due to issues she's been having with our Kids. When is enough enough? And am I wrong  for thinking this way? Tonmight, my mom told me I needed to take better care of myself, "because you're my only surviving relative." I told her that she sounded like my Ex. I didn't say, "what about me? Where do I fit into all of this?"

So only a minor annoyance tonight.

My mom always comes out when I pull into the driveway. I took out the trash cans, got a broom and swept debris from the driveway to the organic pile for tomorrow's trash pick-up. I started the washing machine to do a small load, and sprayed the tub in anticipation of scrubbing it since the kids were coming home tonight and they needed baths. Task 1, Task 2, Task 3. I move fast to get things done so I can relax.

I of course greeted my mom, but didn't let her disturb my routine. Then she said, "I don't want to mention this, but I want to talk to you about something," so I followed her into the house.

She went to my room, and poked into the corner of the closet, a hiddem place. She found her guitar and ac used me of keeping it while she had been asking me about it for years. She had been, but I reminded her that this past weekend that she had asked me about it, and I told her that it was safe with me. I rescued it about 15 years ago from her house. If it had stayed, it would have either been destroyed by some "Travellers" my mom mistakenly took in about ten years ago (that was a mess, and I and some friends had to kick these people off her property), and it would have absorbed the animal waste/smoke/mildew stench from her house, being permanently ruined, possibly warped from moisture as well. It's a hand-crafted job she got in Spain in '69.

Though I have nothing to hide, it disturbs me that she was searching nooks and cranies. She said,."I don't remember you telling me that." I've told her for years that I had it. I told her that I also had it re-strung.

We're going to the hardware store this weekend. Though I have nothing to hide, I don't like her going through my room. I'm going to get a locking knob for my room. She's been organizing things, and even sorted D3's dresser, which I appreciate. She makes my bed, though... .which feels weird to me.

When I was 12, we moved from the city to an unfinished and u insulated barn shell in the forest... I slept in a sleeping bag in a chair. Then in a cab-over camper. Later, in a sleeping bag on a friend's couch until I was 17.5 and we moved into her recently current house/shack and I had a real bed again for half a year until I moved out on my 18th birthday. Occasionally, it was in a car, or on crappy nursing home visitor's couches during the years I drove my mom at night (illegally, since I was way underage to have a license) to her night shift nursing jobs.  After that, I slept on a hideabed for 3 years in college (easy to "make" since you fold it up. Other than the living wit with my Ex from 2008-2014, I never bothered. My nomadic tendencies. A friend at work who's known me for 24 years pokes fun at me sometimes. I get it; I may seem weird. A 44 yo guy who doesn't make his bed, still living in his mother's basement. No, wait... .it's the other way around, sans the basement.

Solutions:


1. Start locking my door after I install a new knob.

2. Make my darn bed.

3. 1&2.

4. Tell my mom that while I appreciate her doing things around the house, I don't want her going into my room. (Boundary)

5. 3. I'm still finding it hard to stand up for myself.


I really wish I could afford to get a house with a basement... .

Have a place to lock up your things. You can tell her to not go in your room, but I would not be sure she wouldn't go that anyway.

My mother snooped through everything when we lived at home. Even when we are now adults with our own home, she would excuse herself to "go to the rest room" and then disappear, to wander all over the house and snoop.

While we don't really have anything to hide, we do have things that are private. Before any visits from my parents, we made sure that we didn't have any bank statements or personal letters lying on desks. Not that it was a big deal if she read them, but they are none of her business and we don't share our personal information.

My mother assumes that we are hiding some kind of juicy gossip from her, like we have some personal things to hide that she could "get the dirt on us".  When we visit her, we know she goes through our suitcases and personal items when we are out. We have even joked about buying something outrageously naughty and putting it in the suitcase because we know she is looking but we wouldn't really do that.

Verbal boundaries are meaningless to her. She denies that she snoops ( we've caught her red handed) and even if we asked her not to, she would do it any way. The only boundary we have is locks. In general, our financial information is in a locked place, but before she visits, we go around the house looking for any letters or bank statements or things we don't want to share with her and lock them up.

The snooping kind of bugs me, but I would tolerate it with my mom more (I have nothing to hide). My Ex constantly used excuses to come over (to "inspect" things due to her anxiety, was the main reason). It took a lot of consistent boundaries on my part for that to finally die off. PwBPD don't see bondaries or seperateness the same.

My mom's PTSD seems to have abated. She asked me yesterday if I had noticed that she got her hair cut. So she wandred off the street to the next block to a hairdresser. I'm glad that she is more with it, but cringe at my house being unlocked for that time. I had two burglaries two years ago, the second time with an alarm system. If her memory gets better, I can trust her with a key on a lanyard around her neck...

Last night, she followed me around again, even on my back porch as I was trying to spend time on the site here. I couldn't get on until after 9PM, undisturbed.

Tonight was different. My Ex is into this multi-level marketing thing, and has to leave at 5am tomorrow (Saturday) morning to travel. Typical LGAT (large group awareness training) stuff, it's 12-14 hour session. She gave up the kids for most of her custody weekend. Reminds me of my mom with the "get rich quick" schemes. Whatever. I'll take any extra time with the kids I can get.

I thought my mom would be happy to see her grandkids. She was, but I could tell that their happy rambunctiousness was starting to get to her. Though their irreverence can sometimes drive me nuts (and I have nothing to do with that, no   I don't want to stifle their spirits. I sent D3 to her room tonight after she acted out by throwing something on the floor. I also don't run The Lord of The Flies house here.

I was making dinner: turkey burgers and oven fries. Simple.

I wrote the above Friday night. Haven't had a chance to post it until now.

What's confusing are the day-to-day changes. The kids' mom picked them up from church Sunday morning. They were doing baptisms. The sermon was on baptism. They had the people being baptized go up front and give short testimonies. I wanted to leave, but my Ex wanted to have the kids watch. About 20 mins in, my mom asked, "what are they doing?" Since the band was still softly playing. I explained. I could excuse it by the lone lady who sat in the pew in front of us blocking my mom's view of the baptismal pool. I explained it and we left shortly thereafter, saying goodbye to the kids.

I really want to go see Star Wars, but feel weird if I take my mom. I have the kids this coming weekend; we'll try then. I took off for two hours Sunday to go to work and grocery shop. I could have checked my work email through the web interface (and I was expecting data over the weekend, so it was legit), but I needed the break because I felt (s)mothered.

I told my buddy at work today, and he said, "why were you frustrated? She's got memory issues." Truth, no SET. I think I needed that. I felt guilty for being frustrated. After I got home yesterday, my mom helped fold the kids' laundry, and commented, "this is a lot of laundry for such a small family." It wasn't mean, but rather an observation. I thanked her for helping to fold the kids' clothes. She commented that D3 had a better waredrobe than she had. I let it go.

Today was long. I barely checked the board. Got chewed out by proxy in a meeting. Took the kids to S5's classmates birthday party and didn't get home until after 8. Baths, bedtime. Lunches for tomorrow.

My mom seemed ok. I called her at 7:30 saying we'd be late. I'm, and was, the opposite of a mama's boy, but I didn't want her to be worried. She said she figured we were late because I called after the time I said we'd be home.

I was worried because at 630, as I was leaving and it was still kind of dark, I found her on the back porch after her morning cigarette, hugging one of the Chihuahuas, sitting in a chair, in the dark. I had asked if she wanted me to turn on the light, she said no. So I left her there in the darkness of the coming dawn. I thought I should have asked if she were ok, but I just said goodbye. This was one of the things that triggered my Ex about me. When faced with dysregulation or depression, I flee. That seems all about me. I'm thankful that she seemed ok when we got home tonight. Despite a hectic work day, I called people to set up an appointment to talk to someone to get her enrolled in healthcare locally.

I can imagine that seeing your mother sitting in the dark holding her chihuahua would make you feel uncomfortable. Dealing with dysregulation isn't easy, I'm glad she seemed alright when you got home. How are things now Turkish?

So are you going to see Star Wars? *) I have seen it already and I didn't take Ma Parrot along either


This is definitely a good thing. Have you had this appointment yet?


I'm not sure about this part though, should someone called Turkish really be making Turkey burgers? Sounds like some sort of cruel and unusual self punishment :)

I took the four of us to see Star Wars today. It ended up ok, but this morning:

The Hermit-Waif Wants To Flee

It was my custody weekend. Yesterday, my Ex's younger sister threw a birthday party for her two year old, and we were invited (they may have invited us even if I didn't have the kids). Their auntie moved back into her mom s house from another state recently.

My mom likes the ex-laws, and they like her. About 30 people ended up showing, which wasn't too many for their typical parties. My Ex's husband (her affair partner) showed up, saw my mom an started talking to her. He's Mr. Super Christian to a point I deem weird, but that's another story for another board. He got my Ex to go to a seeker-friendly mega church. I only talk to him when I have to.

As we were opening presents inside later, I spied him sitting down talking to my mom for a long time. I leaned over to my Ex-BIL's fiancée and said, "what's going on? It looks like [Homewrecker's] picking up on my mom. Dude stay out of my life!" She laughed. In retrospect, I needed to rescue my mom.

They all came inside the house. I told my mom we were going soon, and she looked a little weird and said, "yes, please." We got home, I got my crazy kids to bed. I wasn't that late, about 9:15, but my mom had made her bed on the couch. Lights out. No tv, no reading. I didn't think too much of it, even that she didn't want to have a night smoke on the back porch. I figured the party may have been a little draining, despite the good food. I found out this morning just how much it was.

I tried to sleep in a little. The kids love to play hop on pop. My middle-aged body can't take much. I finally got up to do the morning routine of tossing them whatever they wanted for breakfast, fixing my coffee and such. My mom was sitting in the couch in the dark living room. I thought to myself, I put the living room light on the timer last night, and forgot to switch it back to normal mode," yet when I went to make coffee, which made itself an hour before, it hadn't been touched.

In my romantic r/s, I made the mistake of often ignoring signs, assuming that the other person would handle things like I do: process by myself because I can only rely on myself. I got the kids doing whatever they were doing and went into the living room to ask my mom if everything was all right. Not even close.

"This isn't working. I think I need to go back to live at my place."

"What happened, what's going on that you feel that way?"

"Everything."

"Was it the party last night?";

"That was part of it, but I don't want to say more in front of the kids."

"So what was it?"

"The party was loud, and I heard the kids talking about me, saying things." Here, my hackles rose: I perceived that she was painting the kids black. I went back to the kids. I brought out clothes for S5 to change himself, gave D3 a banana, and went into the back porch. I was so angry, I thought about calling her NP at the clinic and asking what my legal liability was if I were to drop my mom back off in the mountains.

About five minutes after, my mom came outside to smoke. I was less frustrated, so I put on my Turkish hat.

"So what happened?"

"[Your Ex's husband] for one. Its like he knew everything about me! He kept asking me who my favorite character was from the Bible. I probably also said things I shouldn't have."

I replied that I think he's a bit of a goofy and odd guy, and that I was sorry that I should have gone over when I saw him talking to her for so long. She said that he was charming though. I said that my Ex falls for guys that are superficial like that, and with such guys, we need good boundaries. My mom replied, "you know that I'm bad at boundaries." I said, "I know."

Then she started in on her grandchildren. The party was too loud, and that she heard them saying "Grandma Turksh this and Grandma Turkish that." Like the kids were devaluing her? I said that the kids just say things, and it's not malicious. They're 3 and 5 (6 in two weeks).

This seemed to calm her a bit, but before I got out of bed, S5 had spied a barbie doll on the top shelf of their closet. I think my mom put it in their room two weeks ago. She had meant to save it for D3's birthday in the spring. S5 talked about it and told D3. My mom said, "S5 found it and when I tried to tell him it was for her birthday, he was mocking me!"  8:- My hackles started to rise again, but I calmy said that I wasn't sure how the doll ended up in their room, but that I had seen it, and it was my fault for not re-hiding it. Part of it was on me, though I hadn't realized her intentions.

I got the kids ready for church. We saw the movie later. Tonight, the kids were talking again about D3's birthday Barbie (it's a Mexican themed one; the kids are half Mexican on their mom's side). I talked to D3 tonight, and said that we were going to save it for her birthday, wrap it and everything. She was ok with that, so I put it on the top shelf of my closet. I told my mom, who was worried that she'd have to get D3 another present. My mom was surprised that D3 was ok with it (I'm a Princess Whisperer), but my mom seemed calm as well. No more talk about fleeing, at least for tonight.

Your ex's H must have said something triggering to your mother. Hopefully she will be over it.

I wouldn't have the nerve to say this, but if he started that with me- who is your favorite Bible character, I might reply- Moses, the one who carved you shall not commit adultery on stone tablets. Then see the response.

Long Day.

I feel like a wimp in advance for even writing this, but... .

Got the kids ready for their schools this morning. Told my mom to feel free to partake of the Al Pastor (Mexican marinated pork) I had bbq'd late last night. Her borderline dog was really going after me last night, no provocation that I could see. I was really angry, but had gotten very it. I'm human; it's a foolsh, walnut-brained sized beast. I need to be Wisemind about that.

I fixed a problem at work and got someone else's too up. Pouring oil into a vacuum pump, I stood up and gashed my head on the sharp edge of an exhaust flue. Since I had to sit on the floor because the pump fills slowly, the co-worker got a lint free cloth and was dabbing the blood from my head (I shave my head). Got his tool up, also resetting other hardware and software, saved the company money and downtime. Ran upstairs to a meeting. I felt my head and it was still seeping blood. I am supposed to report a work injury, but whatever. Need to remember to wrap the sharp edge of the flue in tape. I did the same thing a few months ago.

Brought the kids home. Set up S5 (6 this weekend!) to do his homework. It's always a struggle given his OCD traits, obsessed with building his lego models. Given a break in the rain, I went outside to mow the front yard and green strip by the street, which were badly overgrown. My mom came outside and just watched me. Felt creepy. By the time I got out the blower to clean up, she had gone back inside.

Next up, after struggling to get my son to finish his homework, which he finally did, I cookex spaghetti for the kids, and hamburger helper for my mom and me. The kids don't like "saucy" stuff like that. I had a craving, even if I don't eat it much. First time in a year, probably. I've been on a "street taco" kick lately, making them Mexican style, but it's getting old.

I got the kids bathed and ready for bed. I told them to go say goodnight to grandma and they did. My mom told both of them, "I love you!" They accepted her hugs and kisses, but didn't return the sentiment. As we were walking down the hallway, my mom told the kids, "oh, I love your daddy, too... .well, sometimes."

I like to think I'm tough, but I felt really annoyed (hurt) by that. I probably saved her life from the cold, and the ex-con that was obsessed with her, and she makes snide comments like that, and in front of my kids?

This seems innocuous, and it probably was, but I felt triggered by it, probably more than I should have been. I don't think it was meant to be directly hurtful; it's just the way she can be. I think back over the years about his many BFFs and surrogate "daughters" she has lost, and I can't help but think if those relationship debacles started with a comment like that.

I keep telling myself that I last lived with her over 26 years ago. She denies things like ever having smacked the dogs around (though she did it all of the time). We don't talk about the past. The here and now is what's important.

There have been some minor instances this past week but all in all, my mom's gotten better. The PTSD seems to have abated. She's helpful around the house. The other morning, she did make a weird comment, askingbifvthevkids were coming home that night. I said yes. She got a look on her face and I asked, "will this disturb your peace and quiet?" She responded something like, "kind of. Well, I suppose they are my grandkids."   This from the woman who wanted more kids, and just 5 years ago was talking about adopting a foreign orphan. The other day, she commented how she always wanted a daughter. It was a passing comment, not meant to be mean, but thanks mom. You split D3 yesterday. I'm sure you would have handled that well. No, I didn't say that, but I thought it.

She had it easy with me, the adopted Waif Child. I was quiet and reserved. Avoidant-something attachment style. My kids are open and nice to others, but are irreverent, and rambunctious.my mom prefers waifs she can control, even if implicitly.

In any case, tonight I told her that we were driving to the mountains. She refuses to call the county to check on the back taxes. She wants to go there in person because, "those ladies really like me." I'm sure that they do, but taxes due are taxes due. She said she wants to bring her truck back, the severely dented one with a missing front grille and the tailgate held on by a cable because of multiple accidents she's had on private property running into trees or over stumps. I pretty much said that it wasn't going to happen. Here I failed to validate her feelings and shifted the conversation towards going to the senior center tomorrow, watching the kids in the morning (well, D3, S6 has school). The Thursday trip should be interesting. She made a comment about some dirty dog carriers probably being stolen. She's still so attached to junk. I have a really hard time validating her "fear of loss" as my T said about the hoarding.

Sometimes i feel amazed I'm not a mess in life since i had no one to teach me how to do things right, though I know I could be doing better. Self-flagellation. Others who know my story or observed my teen years are amazed, too, not in a patronizing way.

I'm trying to be dutiful and responsible, honoring my mother who rescued me from foster care (me interracial at a time when i was a big deal, and with a physical disability to boot) but it's hard. She's eldery, and apart from the multiple mental illnesses, that's tough enough.

Hi, Turkish,

I haven't been around here for a few months, so I just read your whole thread here. Just wanted to say that a) you have my sympathy and b) you rock. I am one of those rooting for you and praying for you.

I need it. This morning it was "I just want to die."   I asked if she was thinking about killing herself and she reacted strongly, "no!" So depressive episode, not necessarily SI.

Had the morning off at home babysitting D3. My mom refused to go to the senior center to check it out, even though I said that they had legal help for seniors which she needs. "It's just a day care." Put a call into my T to get an idea of my legal liability here in case she insists on going back. She's right. In a way I am controlling it. I said we could go get a key made so she could walk the half mile to Starbucks or the home depot. Her memory has improved. She was still mad. I probably didn't help by pointing out that she got lost a block from home last week. "I made it back didn't I?" It's tough to find a validation target with someone who's been on her own since 16. But barely functioned. Lost home in the city to a short sale in '83. Lost 25 acres to foreclosure in '85. Almost lost her current 5 acres to foreclosure in '99, but I sent her $5k. Now it's the tax lein. So we're taking a trip to the mountains tomorrow morning... .

Made It Through The Day

I took a day off work due to my mom refusing to call the county tax collector's office. No appreciation that it costs me a day's salary. As many companies have done in the US, we no longer get sick time, but PTO (paid time off), which is vacation and possible sick time combined. I have two little kids.

After the almost 2.5 hour drive to the mountains, we first stopped by her bank to check her account balance. Her bank is 8 miles up the mountain highway from the town where the county offices reside. I gave her a choice, and she agreed it was better to stop by the bank first.

As she was going in, I said, "maybe you can check if you can set up an onlone account so you can check your balance from the city." She irritably replied, "no, that's private!" Still paranoid about me taking control when that isn't what it's about. I felt my face flushing. I was mad, but I didn't say anything.

After stopping to get her mail, we stopped at a burger stand for lunch. She said she'd pay. There wasn't a line, but the teenager at the window sat there while my mom searched her pockets for the cash she had withdrawn. After this went on for almost 3 mins, I figured out the non-triggering way out. I tossed the kid a twenty, and told me mom, "just give me a twenty later." I learned this previously at Wally World where there was a long line, she stood there lost, and I "signed" the electronic pad. She gave me static about it later, confused and upset. Another time was when I just paid for something. This isn't BPD, it's just slowness. I learned. After we got our burgers, she found her money. I didn't offer change. She didn't ask. My utility bill has gone up $100 already. I've never asked her for money. I won't.

Time at the property went well. Her anxiety about being robbed of her Hoard was abated when she was able to pack her Wedgewood china. Her semi-feral cat came around (not ribby; it's a good hunter, though we opened cans of cat food which he devoured). Her chicken showed up, too, mysteriously out of the woods. I need to send that thing to DARPA or something. It's amazing that a lone hen can survive so long, the rest of its brood having long been slaughtered by predators. It ate the cat food. Carnivorous chicken. Maybe that explains some things. Dino DNA

I picked up one box she had packed, to carry it to my car. I felt something wet on my hand. Feces. When she wasn't looking, I took pics of the floor in the kitchen. I guess i never thought off it, but most of the lineleum was encrusted with a dark layer. Dog and other animal feces. It's all over most of the house. I wish I were exaggerating.

Getting the china resulted in she feeling better. We drove 12 miles down to the county seat. She got the tax info from the ladies there. One of them really seemed to care about my mom, not your typical DMV government drones. There were no lines. Small town.

She had a payment due for the back tax payment plan. She also missed the October payment for the year's taxes, but the full amount of $1100 isn't due until April. The total back taxes are like $3400. Half is due this calendar year, the balance the next, with 1.5% interest accrual/mo. Not bad. She didn't have checks. It was a 2.5% charge to pay electronically. I was hanging back, letting her handle it, but I nosed my way in to understand what was due when. The ladies there were encouraging her. My mom said, "people said I couldn't do it, even my son, but I did." I was pissed, felt myself flushing again. I said, "I didn't say that. I sent you $1000 when this all started to help you make the first payment." I used my calm, Turkish voice. She said, "when was that?" I replied, "Two summers ago when I mailed you the money when you were 3 weeks from being evicted." "Oh."

We left with payment envelopes.

I said that it would be better to pay now, rather than by mail. I asked her if she had enough money in her account to make the payment, and that it would be better than accruing 1.5% into next month. After some fumbling, she pulled out her bank statement, keeping it hidden, and said yes.

As we walked out, I convinced her that it would be better to just make a payment today rather than mailng it. So we drove 8 miles back up the mountain to her bank. She got temporary checks. We drove back down, and she made the payment. She messed up writing the first check. The lady was nice and walked her through it. I just watched, resisting my urge to take control. This took 20 mins. I could have written a check for all of it, but her problem is her responsibility.

At least she didn't ask about the truck. She commented on the way back about not being able to drive in city traffic. All in all, I get the feeling that she wants to go back. After the winter and snows, I'm thinking about validating this. She's borderline functional, even though the PTSD symptoms have subsided. She's still obsessed with her hoard and being robbed. Attachment.

She was mailed a survey to rate her Nurse Practitioner. She said that she wasn't gong to fill it out because she still feels angry that she was detained for four hours until I picked her up, one point short of being declared 5150 and being held involuntarily. I told her that it was 30 degress F and that they were worried about her walking up the highway (dirt shoulder). She said that she can survive. I pointed out that she was cold in my house where I keep the thermostat at 65F. "I survive!" Wth is the validation target there?

I really think that she's going back in a month, maybe two. I have no problem providing shelter and food. The extra money isn't the issue. It's her stubborness and refusal to do what is simple in my mind, to reduce drama and take care of what's easily fixable. I think that she'll wreck the truck, hopefully not killing anybody, and then that will be it. Then I will get another call to rescue, things being much worse, from a situation that's totally avoidable. 

The day ended ok; the beginning, not so much.

Church day with the kids. The routine is to go for Pho (Vietnamese noodle soup) after church, especially given the cold weather.

Early this morning, my mom said, "I need to talk to you." Oh boy. She asked me if I talked to her family. I said that her siblings were all gone, who was she talking about? (I said this more nicely). She said her cousins. I said that yes, I was in touch with them on FB, her second cousins, whom I'd never met. She said, "im sorry if i start crying," and she did a little. Then she started telling me that she felt like she was going to die, telegraphing that she was ready... Imbalance issues which she's hidden from me (since I haven't observed this, I didn't comment).  She said that the other day that she caught herself on the wall. Also, that she couldn't lift her left foot for a while. I said that we should go to the doctor. She declined, saying that though there was something wrong, they had no clue. I can't help but think that the utter filth that she's lived in may not have given her some brain parasite. Who knows?

She started talking about how the clinic in the mountains poo--pood these symptoms and just kept her prisoner until I came to get her. She started talking again about being ready to die, but that she wanted to spend quality time with her grandchildren. I agreed that she has been spending good time with them. Then, it switched.

She started talking about her house. That it could be fixed. 20 years ago, the foundation, which is on cinder blocks, was bad. Last weekend, I took photos: ceilings decrepit with insulation hanging down, mold on the ceilings, and the best part: years of animal feces ecrusted on the ktchen floor. You can only tell that by a small spot near the door where you can still see the linoleum. I really should have tried to get her on the Hoarders show ten years ago. As much as I'm tempted to bring her back after winter, I can't. My friends at work, who've known me for over 20 years, said that I'd end up in the papers as the horrible son. Given the small rural county, they may be right. This isn't a major concern. She's still going on how the health professionals kept her prisoner. She still doesn't understand. I could contact a social wotker to start a case file, but my mom would hate me forever, and she'd end up in some facility. She'd rather die.

Going to see my T tomorrow. I need it.

Hi Turkish,

How are things now?


Perhaps this is not so much about your mother actually wanting to die, but more that she was scared that she was going to die. Perhaps as a result of her distorted thinking, those symptoms she mentioned like not being able to lift her foot, triggered a 'catastrophizing' response in her. Through all her dysfunction you have described in your posts, I also see that your mother in her disordered way does seem to really care about you and your kids. It could also be that underneath what she is saying about being scared to die, is that she is scared the good times she is now able to have with you and your kids would come to an end. She might be fearing that her body is physically 'ready to die', though spiritually or emotionally she really is not ready to die and that's why she is feeling so upset.

From her history you've described, she has experienced loss and abandonment through the years in various forms. You however have always been a consistent presence and force and have now stepped up more than probably anyone has ever done for her in her life. Though she might be bad in expressing it (and might indeed also be still attached to her house and her hoard), she probably does really like being around you and your kids. The attachment to the hoard is on the surface and most easily visible and hard to break. Yet while reading between the lines, underneath that more visible attachment might lie a more profound attachment to you and the next generation of the wolf pack, your kids. Though you cannot make her BPD go away, what you have done for her soul with your patience and kindness is invaluable. No matter how big her hoard might be, deep down inside seeing and being around you and your kids might be what your mother cherishes most of all.

Do you feel like any of this might explain what's going on with your mother feeling this way and expressing she is 'ready to die'.

I wasn't going to update this today, since it may be annoying (and given far more dire situations here, but since you replied... .enabler!


You are probably right about this being a triggered response. And yes, she does care about the kids and me. If she ever mentions wanting to die in front of the kids, I'm going to put the kibosh on that though!

My T asked yesterday, "When she is at her house, does she notice how it is, especially compared to where she is living with you?" I said, "No and yes. Kind of, but mostly no." He said, "your mother is mentally ill." Thanks, Dr. I could have just payed myself $185 to say that!

I didn't say that. He talked a little about how our society (not all of Western Society, but mostly the USA) doesn't really handle aging well. Since she is a Christian, he asked if I had hear of Stephens Ministers. I had. I looked into it, but it's hard to find someone here. Besides, my mom thinks that she doesn't need help or companionship. It's an interesting program though, Christian caretakers trained specifically for this. The program was started by a Psychologist and taken locally, then nationally outside of the original church. My mom doesn't trust anybody either. Hard to say. Which brings me to last night.

I had called the health care provider (HMO) to get an appointment to have someone talk to her about signing up her Medi-care (the USA's socialized medicine program for the elderly). She needs a local provider, though. They told me that I can't even make an appointment without having medical Power of Attorney. I wish that they had told me that last month.

I talked to my mom about it, and she was in a better mood, having taken herself off of her thyroid meds. She said that she felt better. She started complaining about the HMO and didn't want to even go to an info session in two weeks. I said, "so what if you need medical care?" She said that she would get herself to the UC (University of California hospitals in either San Francisco or near Sacramento, 1 and 3 hours away, respectively). I said that now she had the power to control things for herself, to get a doctor locally, to establish a relationship with someone. She was stubborn. I said that likely what would happen is that I would come home, find her on the floor, call 911 and they they would take her somewhere and it would be both out of my hands and hers as well. She asked why out of my hands. I said that because I have no legal options here.

I once more went through the story and her responses were the same.

This is what I told my T yesterday, that it was so frustrating that people were so turned inward into their own pain that they don't see how their choices impact and cause damage to those around them.

My mom also talked about the mountains and how they (the clinic people) "shafted" her by sending her to come live with me. Gee mom, I saved your life and so did they and your little dogs, too!

I didn't say this last part. So I told my mom, "Ok, if this is your decision, I won't mention it again," and I put the papers I had back into a manila folder and watched tv with her.

She just called me from home. When I called back, no answer. I need to get video cameras inside of the house, but she'd probably flip about that. So, I'm leaving work now to go check on things... .

Edit: I got a hold of her. Mistake call.

At what point might you consider having her declared incapable, so that you become a guardian? It sounds as if that could become a possibility.

I ask because my 89 year old Mother is currently living in a house I own, 350 miles from where I Live, and she is 95% on top of her health care, finances and daily needs. Someone your mom's age with t he cognitive issues she displays is concern I g.

I think that my mom would have a complete psychotic break if I were to do this. The clinicians who deatained her out of concern for her safety "shafted" her after all. I can think of ways I could do this, but I would not be able to handle her in my home.

She did call her friend in The Islands, a woman she's been friends with for almost 40 years. She's had issues in the past, but is mentally stable. The phone ran out of minutes. I forgot that I destroyed the PIN on the new card, so I let my mom talk on my phone. The friend had called me on my way home.

I was in the other room down the hall, but I could hear snippets of the conversation. Saying that my Ex was nice to her, but was BPD (my mom and her friend are RNs). I heard that she wanted to go back. I also heard an answer to a question, "no, it's not filthy." And, "the house needs minor repairs." Anyone not knowing better would assume that this sounds reasonable, and that she's in control of her faculties. This is what's difficult.

1) Aggressive plan: take her back and call the health department. The pound would remove her dogs due to the filth. She'd be evicted and homeless. The other downside is that the county would give a timeline to clean it all up. She'd also be cited. Majorly triggered, I wouldn't be able to handle her here. She'd end up in a home. Working in geriatric care the last 15 years of her career, she hates those places. I could handle being hated, but she'd never be the same.

2) Less aggressive plan: if she absolutely demands to go back, I'll take her back as I picked her up. The clinic would give her an assesment; she'd pass. My buddy would drive her truck back to her road where we found it (because when I got her, she had no idea where it was) with a dead battery. As the weather gets better, I know she will, push more to go back.

3) Brainstorm plan: have a social worker assigned to evaluate her situation after #2, right away. It would result in #1, however. Or, I'd be in the care of her here, but assigned POA. She'd hate me, and the three deoressive episodes I've dealt with thus far would be like Romper Room in comparison.

4) Wish plan: that she dies peacefully in her sleep as her parents did; in warmth, cleanliness and with me and her grandchildren. This sounds selfish, and it is. Maybe this makes me a bad son/person.

You're right, she is still so young, and having survived breast cancer and the beginnings of ovarian cancer in the last decade, there's no reason what she shouldn't be good for another decade.

Something changed and I can't put my finger on it.

No severe depressive episodes lately. I think as loud and as rambunctious as the kids can be, my mom appreciates them overall. D3 calls the "non" [borderline] Chihuahua "my pet." The kids kss my mom goodnight (I always send them to her at bedtime) and goodbye in the morning. I see my mom laugh and smile at their love, emotions I don't remember. I remember sometimes being loved, but the splitting (emotionally berating and smacking) confused me as a child so that I withdrew into my own world. Still, I'm happy when I see my mom happy with the grandchildren she had been asking for throughout my 20s and 30s. Her comment to her friend the other day about the kids being "out of control" still bugs me, but I was quiet, reserved and shy. I'm normally pretty Zen in the face of conflict, but it took me into my 40s to realize that this isn't my true personality. I look at my kids and realize, "this is how non neglected and n in abused children should be, not the waif, standing in the corner dressed in black."  I don't entirely lay this at my mother's feet, but also in combination with severe bullying from when I first realized it in 1st grade (6) until mid-way through high school, and then a little afterwards. Another subject for another board... ./auto-hijack.

When I come home, my bed and that of the kids are no longer made. I never asked, but it's a change. She no longer sweeps either, which is why I said tonight that I wanted to do a thorough house cleaning. I didn't blame her. I said that the weekend was perfect due to being home in the day and the way the morning light shines into the back rooms. At night, I miss seeing things. She wasn't triggered. Good.

I baked a frozen pizza late last night. I left a piece on the counter for my mom. It wasn't delivery, but D'Giorgno. As frozen pizzas go: da bomb. That the frozen pizza industrial complex took decades to figure out that vacuum-sealing pizzas results in such a better product is a culinary crime. /frozen-pizza hijack.

I was cleaning up the kitchen and started to toss the piece of pizza and my mom grabbed it, saying, "don't throw that out!" She proceeded to eat it, and told me, "this is the first I've eaten all day." I looked at some cheese-covered Kaiser rolls she'd picked up last Sunday. She said that they had started to mold so she didn't eat. I looked at the opposite counter, which had an unopened loaf of her favorite rye, unopened for a week. The wheat-grain partial loaf next to it which is for the kids' sandwiches. I asked her why hadn't she eaten. No reply. There's 3 kinds of lunch meat in the fridge, not including the new loaf of Braunschweiger I got her a few days ago. Cheese. A banana. Ramen in the cupboard, and also three frozen microwaveable meals o bought specifically for her. There is also canned meat, of which she had partaken of last month. So why hadn't she eaten? I don't know, and I really don't get it.

The night was ok. We went to the church to watch Woodlawn (great movie). I had brought my mom home a fajita burrito and she ate half of it when we got home after the movie. She thanked me and went to bed.

I was thinking of posting an update last night, like "almost two weeks with no drama," etc... .but that would have been boring, though hopeful. *sigh*

S6 had his tap dance class tonight. I already cut out of work early to pick the kids up from the Ex-laws. I told my mom that we'd be home an hour later, just past dark. I picked them up and headed to the dance studio. I would have needed an extra 15 mins to pick up my mom. I could have done it, but I also figure I have a right to my own time with the kids. I'm still reeling from recently getting the worst job performance review I've had in 23 years. Thanks, BPD  |iiii not my mom so much as my Ex, and I know that I'm ultimately responsible for me.

We arrived home just as it got dark. The lights weren't on... red-flag

My mom was sitting on the couch watching tv. I asked,."hi, were you taking a nap?" No. I could tell something was up. However, I had dinner to make, one kid bathe, trash to take out, and it was already late.

My mom started picking up their clothes to fold them, and I said, "oh, some of those are S6's dirty clothes... ." and I didn't get another word in other than she tossing the clothes onto the bed, "fine," and she walked back to the dark living room.

The kids were oblivious. I seared chicken for them, and more for an Indian dish I was making, vegetables, etc. My mom went outside to smoke. My daughter wanted to go outside to play with the dogs. I told her not to. Grandma needed time with her dogs. D3 got upset. Lashed out at her brother. I sent her to the living room, though she went to her room to pout.

She came back. I had done part of the chicken, and fed it to them, along with raw carrots, which they like. The rice had finished, but they wouldn't tomuch it. Their problem. I was still, working on the Indian dish. I added mushrooms and zuchini to the recipe.

D3 needed a bath, so I got her in there. My mom was still on the couch watching

Hill Street Blues. I got her finished, S6 dresses for bed (by himself, but it's a struggle), and had them say good night to grandma after their nightly routine. I had given my mom a spoonful of rice and the Indian goulasch. She said she wasn't hungry. I noticed afterwards that she went back for more.

After the kids were down, I updated my mom with logistical things and retired to the back porch. She soon came out to smoke. I said that we were going up to the mountains to visit next weekend. She said that she wasn't going (I could feel the Waif-Hermit already). I asked why. She said that she was mad at "V" for keeping her truck. I said that I had asked him to keep her truck. "Well then I'm mad at you." I skipped SE (because frankly I'm sick of this conversation) and said "ok, but the last time you came back, you said that you didn't think you could drive in city traffic." Silence. "You're doing well saving up paying the property taxes, and you have enough money to take care of that now. However, the truck needs about $4k worth of body work, and you can work on that next. " Stare. "The bed needs aligning, and the tailgate is held on my a steel cable because the bed is bent." "It's held on by a rope." "It's held on by a steel cable which your [bi-polar and unhealthy] friend put on there."

"So I see that you're still running around with the old gang."

"What gang is that, mom?"

"You know," she said.

"[BP friend]?"

"Yes."

TTTTT: "Mom, I go to work every day, come home. Take care of the kids who cycle in and out of here every 2-3 days. I don't have time to hang out with anybody. I talked to [BP Frenemy] two months ago, a wee, before you came here... She called me to ask about you. I missed the call, and you declined to call her back, and I respect that.Though I'm not necessarily angry at her, I

Don't like the way she was to you, so I won't accept any call unless you want to talk to her."

Silence. Some small, talk, and then, "I'm going to bed."

After a week of something near to normality, this dysregulation caught me off guard.

As pathetic as it sounds, this feels similar to my r/s with my Ex: a feeling that she always has one foot out the door. I can validate the episodes, but overall, it's not a stable r/s. How stable a r/s can one have with a person who is periodically and recurringly dissociated from reality?

Major red flags indeed. I remember this kind of behavior from my mother too, sitting in the dark or just sitting there with the television turned off and the telephone disconnected. Those were scary times because I wondered if she was really gonna loose it this time. When I saw her sitting like that I feared she might not snap out of it. I found this silent dysregulation terrifying, in a way just as terrifying as 'the Witch'.


I think it might help to judge yourself more kindly and use more gentle language to describe what you are going through. Nothing of what you've been through these last couple of moths sounds easy or pathetic to me. It actually sounds very hard, living with your BPD mother again after all these years while also taking care of your two little kids and co-parenting with your BPD ex is a lot to deal with. I am sorry your job performance review was not so positive this time, I can definitely see though how all the things you have on your plate could also influence you when you're at work. It's hard to just turn those things off and do your work as if nothing is going on. Perhaps you can use this moment to make a change or as a sign that you need to be mindful of how things are affecting you and that it's important to also consider your own needs.

Considering both your mom and ex exhibit BPD traits, I think it is natural that certain relationship dynamics will feel the same. As far as stability, I think we can say that the disordered person will always be the more likely one to destabilize things. So for any stability to come to the relationship, this has to come from us. This again places a huge burden and responsibility on us, but the (unfortunate) reality is that it's highly unlikely our BPD family-members will change and all of a sudden become stable people. However, it is so that by changing our own responses, we will change the dynamics of our relationships and might even positively influence the BPD people in our lives. I remember from some of your previous posts that after you changed your responses, it seemed your ex was becoming more stable/pleasant.

You're helping her save up the money she needs to pay back taxes, get her truck back... .apologies--I don't know the whole story and have not had time to read all of it. Seems like you took her in in an emergency situation. Is this a permanent arrangement at this point, or are you working to get her back into her place with her truck?

Do you have siblings?

If it's permanent, does it seem sustainable?

There's a deliberate, process-driven calm in the way you write about your household: the tasks, the ingredients if your Indian goulash, etc. You're a maintenance manager, I take it? Sometimes a mechanic? I picture you taking all the parts of the relationship with your mother and spreading them out on a drop cloth, cleaning them with a rag, lining them up again, reassembling this part and that, careful not to strip any bolts, etc.

Why am I saying that? I don't know, except that for all it exhausts you to live it there is a meditative quality to reading about it. But there's also an unreal, dreamlike quality that I associate with shock. Do you think you might be experiencing some shock?

Man, you need one relationship (even a pool buddy) that does not involve any caretaking. Do you have that?

So I caught up a little more. You've got a few scenarios outlined. (Sorry--I should have read more thoroughly before replying--I've just been dipping in and out of your updates.)

I don't have any advice, not that you are asking for it. But are there social workers available -- for her and for you -- to help you flesh out the scenarios you're working with? If nothing else, it might make you feel less like the only adult person on the case. Sorry if that is a dumb q or if you answered it back there somewhere.

I mean possibly the hospital that evaluated her could set you up with someone? A social services agency? You really should not be alone in this. Not fair to you or your kids, imo.

I thought about callng in a social worker. That would be a major trigger.

Due to me mixing up today and tomorrow, I ended up not going into work today. I wanted to go by myself, but I figured getting out would help my mom, so I took her to Wal Mart. I brought both kids home by 2PM. I did laundry. Mom took the kids for a very short walk with the dogs. We sat down to watch Big Hero 6 (great movie about sacrifice, doing the right thing instead of being consumed by anger, etc... .). She was like a different person today. I think last night was not so much BPD as her depression... Axis I mental ilnesses are "state" based, while Axis II are "trait" based. Her paranoid comments, however, may have been the BPD. Assigning labels helps in analysis, but it falls to us who are not suffering to do what we have to do in order to reduce drama, assert boundaries and the like.

The paranoia is fascinating. I don't remember if I mentioned it, but about a month ago, she said, "I never liked that gang you hung out with in high school." I listed the 4 guys I hung out with, all still friends to this day, and she said, "no, none of them." I listed a 5th ho I ended up rooming with in college, but am no longer friends with. "No, not him either."   I'm not sure who you're talking about mom. "Hm." End of conversation.

I do failure analysis (of semiconductors) for a living, so tearing into something to find root cause is what I do. I may get overly anaytical at times. My T accused of that: thinking too much rather than feeling.

I "own" several tools at work, and trouble-shoot and do minor maintenace as necessary, but I'm not really a mechanic. I suck at home repairs, at least my ex used to tell me. I do fix my kids' toys though when they go on the blink electronically, so maybe she judged me too harshly. And kept her old car running by replacing this and that... .and saved her an $1800 repair by advocating for her at the mechanic when they tried to snow her because she was a woman... .thanklessness. Oops, going into deatching board territory. 

Thinking of you, Turkish. How are things?


Maybe there's a way for you to talk to a social worker alone. Get some input.


Yup, yup. I'm an overthinker myself. I used to be a linguist in a past life, so I know about the puzzle solving. One thing I came to and am working with is the fact that I use my intellect to "solve" what my emotions can't handle. Life-long habit that keeps me from fully feeling things.

Things have been stable. I swore I wrote it in my last post, but my mom apologized for her "insecurities."

I took my mom to a homeless outreach Saturday. I do something like event security, and whatever other little things need to be done. I had my mom sit at a table and talk to guests. She's good at that. It was a smaller event, no drama this time. Later, she said it was fun.

Yesterday, I watched the kids for a few hours on my Ex's day since they are moving. Hijinks will ensue, but that's a subject for another board... .

The weekend to take the kids to the snow is postponed for two weeks, so I don't have to ask her this week if she wants to go with us.

A guy at work gifted me a CCTV system, 4 cameras, 960 dpi. He even said he and his buddy would help me install them. I'm thinking about putting one in the living room, but that might trigger her. Truthfully, that might trigger me. Then again, it's my house and I would do this if she were not there.

I was running through scenarios in my head about how I could do this if she is insistent about going back. I'll cross that bridge when we arrive. I was thinking about calling her PA. Due to HIPPA, she may not be able to say much, but I could preface it with,."hypothetically, say this guy had a mother... ."