As a child, when did you realize your parent w/NPD was different?

[Our abuse recovery guide]

If you have a parent with NPD, what was your first clue that your parent was different(had NPD) and how old were you?
<br/>:)uring a conversation with a friend(I'm a nonDaughter56) about my mother w/NPD(Vulnerable Type)/BPD/HPD she asked, "What was your first clue that your mother had NPD-VT and how old were you"?

I remembered the moment. I was in the living room when my little 10-year-old self asked my parents, "Am I adopted"? But, why then? That was the year I was allowed to sleep over at my friends’ houses. I was a chatty, happy, fun loving, though-somewhat-neurotic kid and I liked people.

When I spent the night at my friends' houses I was exposed to healthy mothers and their relationships with their children. The first couple of times I watched these mothers hug and kiss their children, not because the mother wanted the child's affection, but, because she truly loved her children. She actually liked them! When their mom hugged me, it was so alien to me that I would freeze up. I remember asking one mother if they were her real children and not adopted (Yes, they were her real children). In trying to make sense of my world, they looked at me like I had bubbles coming out my ears.  

When my mother hugged me or showed me any kind of affection it was because she wanted affection. A pat on the head or a quick hug from her was my cue to shower her with affection so she could feel adored. Experiencing the difference between a healthy mothers hug  and my mother w/NPD's hug was like the difference between a soothing warm hug from grandmother and hugging one of Harlow's wire-mother monkeys. That's when I knew my mother was different. So, my little mind reasoned that since she doesn't love me like other mothers love their kids then I must be adopted.

When mother w/NPD-VT/BPD/HPD saw how much I liked another mother, she oozed jealousy and put a stop to sleepovers. As a child, I learned through trial and error how to better navigate around her pathological behavior and leaned toward my nonDad for love.  

[Disclaimer: my mother w/NPD-VT and I have maintained a workable LC arrangement for a long time. She deserves a great deal of credit for the amount of therapy she's done and the work she puts into it. And me? ... .I want a fricking medal!

[SeaSwirl]

If you have a parent with NPD, what was your first clue that your parent was different(had NPD) and how old were you?
<br/>:)uring a conversation with a friend(I'm a nonDaughter56) about my mother w/NPD(Vulnerable Type)/BPD/HPD she asked, "What was your first clue that your mother had NPD-VT and how old were you"?

I remembered the moment. I was in the living room when my little 10-year-old self asked my parents, "Am I adopted"? But, why then? That was the year I was allowed to sleep over at my friends’ houses. I was a chatty, happy, fun loving, though-somewhat-neurotic kid and I liked people.

When I spent the night at my friends' houses I was exposed to healthy mothers and their relationships with their children. The first couple of times I watched these mothers hug and kiss their children, not because the mother wanted the child's affection, but, because she truly loved her children. She actually liked them! When their mom hugged me, it was so alien to me that I would freeze up. I remember asking one mother if they were her real children and not adopted (Yes, they were her real children). In trying to make sense of my world, they looked at me like I had bubbles coming out my ears.  

When my mother hugged me or showed me any kind of affection it was because she wanted affection. A pat on the head or a quick hug from her was my cue to shower her with affection so she could feel adored. Experiencing the difference between a healthy mothers hug  and my mother w/NPD's hug was like the difference between a soothing warm hug from grandmother and hugging one of Harlow's wire-mother monkeys. That's when I knew my mother was different. So, my little mind reasoned that since she doesn't love me like other mothers love their kids then I must be adopted.

When mother w/NPD-VT/BPD/HPD saw how much I liked another mother, she oozed jealousy and put a stop to sleepovers. As a child, I learned through trial and error how to better navigate around her pathological behavior and leaned toward my nonDad for love.  

[Disclaimer: my mother w/NPD-VT and I have maintained a workable LC arrangement for a long time. She deserves a great deal of credit for the amount of therapy she's done and the work she puts into it. And me? ... .I want a fricking medal!

[Contradancer]

Definitely knew early that something was wrong, but I didn't know what.  For instance, I got a stomach bug about 1st grade and vomited in my bed in the middle of the night. She beat me as she accused me of being sick just to be mean to her. It's one of my earliest memories of my my mother making crazy statements, often with physical and verbal abuse attached

She still tries, but I have just gotten good at putting up the castle walls when she starts in.

[Sitara]

My mom has uBPD (high functioning) and it wasn't a sudden realization that there was something wrong.  It was very slow, starting with when I went to college and seeing how other people's families were, then as I got married and started having children of my own she started making more and more unrealistic demands on me.  I started seeing something was wrong just in the last couple of years as she started having more BPD behaviors towards my husband and enmeshing my oldest son.  

I have tons of stories from growing up that I see now as unhealthy, but at the time I didn't know any better.  I had to get some distance before I saw it for what it was.  So I probably was 28 when I started realizing that her behavior was hurtful, and it took another two years before we had an event (blow-out) that made me decide things had to change.

Welcome, and I hope you're able to find what you need to heal here.

[Alastor]

It's a good question, perhaps without a straightforward answer. Like the others, there was no lightbulb  moment. I discovered BPD as a disease in my late 20s, and then the light really went on. However, I can remember starting to realize something was wrong at a very young age, perhaps as young as 9 or 10. This of course went in cycles or moments of questioning my own sanity, but overall as I was exposed to other healthy people and role models outside of her home I knew something was wrong in her head, even if we had no diagnosis. The hard part as a child, and even into my adulthood, was figuring out just which of her behaviors (and conversely my own behaviors that set her off) were normal and which were ç%*&% crazy. Unfortunately this something I find I have to consciously work at to this day

[Botswana Agate]

My story echos Sitara's and others, I think.  I knew the physical abuse was always wrong, always.  And the crazy-making, moods and extreme ways of behaving were just ways of life, but ways I knew were "off".  It wasn't until adulthood and having kids that I realized I had a voice and could use it, and I did.  And it was just a few years ago that, with the help of an LMFT friend, we gave my uBPD mom actions a name, with histrionic and *maybe* narcissistic traits therein.  How great it was to finally have a name for the insanity.

[frenchie]

I was an only child of a single mother, but I had 7 aunts and uncles very close to my age and spent a lot of time at my grandparents. My mom wasn't really around much, she liked to party. I pretty much raised myself (and her) since I was five. I think I was about 5 years old at Christmas when I remember thinking "where did I come from? why am I so different from these people?" There were always drunken brawls between my uncles on holidays, and my mom loved to get beat up by boyfriends. Since we were always around trash, I never got a change to see loving families or anything different which just made me feel isolated as a human being. I always just thought she was a bhit until I was 19 when she verbally attacked and raged at me for trying to help her with some business advice; I was stunned. Ironically, I had always been a 'golden child' even if there was occasional abuse.

[bright_future_mama]

I think I always knew something was wrong with my mother (from about ten years old) but I didn't know what.  I remember worrying excessively as a child.  I would make notes of things to worry about.  I don't think I felt very safe from an emotional standpoint.  I asked people constantly at school if they were mad at me.  I have a cousin who says she just remembers a lot of crying and doors slamming.  I remember being at a friend's house, probably around 10 or 11 and they were making Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes.  I remember how "light" the kitchen felt, full of hospitality and it was so odd to me.  As I started getting around other families as I grew up, I realized that their home was the same way.  Safe havens.  Ours looked like a photo shoot but was void of what I craved.  My mom had every kitchen gadget known to man but didn't cook.  Every type of holiday decoration you could imagine but didn't decorate.  I didn't know what was wrong with my mother but she played victim and always convinced us that our Dad was the problem.  I blamed him for many years (and yes, he has his role in all this, but he is not the cause of her issues; I've found out by many relatives she's been like this since she was in high school).  I was cast into the "protector" role (she convinced me my Dad was hitting her although I never saw it).  I didn't really get it until probably mid high school when I started noticing how much she lied about everything, mostly money.  And then she started taking my paychecks from summer/part time jobs.

She would vacuum my room in the middle of the night.  She chased me down the street because she didn't think my SAT score was high enough.  She threw a 32 oz. drink on me in the middle of a mall.  She expected perfection from me.  I had to make all As and be an honor graduate.  We were the perfect family in our small, little town.  No one seemed to know what was going on inside our home (my Dad is NPD with gambling and alcohol addictions as well).  One time, my mother just took off across the country with my sisters for about two weeks because she was upset with my Dad and left me to stay with a friend.  But I couldn't tell the friend's family why I needed to stay there (or the truth anyway).  It was just chaos, all the time.  I was also parentified--I bought my little sister's Santa every year.  I remember not liking my Mother at a very young age but feeling bound to her.  She now makes my skin literally crawl.  I don't know why my Dad doesn't have that affect on me.  He was no Ward Cleaver.  I think it is because he was self destructive and yes, it indirectly affected me but he didn't actually DO IT TO ME.  Like she purposefully manipulates, lies and steals and it is a direct hit.  I guess that's the only difference.  Or maybe I trusted her more.  So the fall was harder.  I don't know.  Sometimes I feel guilty that I still talk to him and not her.  Neither probably deserves a relationship... .

Later, she "attempted" suicide twice (by taking a whole pack of Benadryl--can that kill you?).  Right around that time, she stole my two younger sister's identity with their SSN and got $50,000 of student loans they are now paying back.  That was ten years ago.  Recently, she just did it again to her new husband.  Forged $35,000 in credit card fraud (applied for cards in his name and ran them up).  No one does anything about it.  They are all too scared to hold her accountable.  Now, at 40, and a parent to four, I see how sick it all was.  I can't imagine doing to my children what she did to us.  But I think she thinks she is still the victim, not us.  She's jealous of all her children.  She started latching on to my eldest girl and manipulating so I had to nip that relationship.  It's just always something.  And I just don't have the energy for it.  Life's too short.  I struggle with having a relationship with her or not, but I read on the other boards how you have to basically put on emotional armor and have all these tactics for dealing with a BPD parent and it just seems like too much trouble for no return.  I mean, how do you have a relationship with someone you don't trust at all?

Anyway, I digress.  It wasn't until my early 30s when I got myself in therapy and read The Borderline Mother by Christine Lawson.  It was like a light bulb went off.  I was reading my life story.  It was SO validating.  I still struggle with the OG in the FOG.  Especially, since my two sisters are very enmeshed with her. 

[Moonbeam77]

I think I always knew something was wrong with my mother (from about ten years old) but I didn't know what.  I remember worrying excessively as a child.  I would make notes of things to worry about.  I don't think I felt very safe from an emotional standpoint.  I asked people constantly at school if they were mad at me.  I have a cousin who says she just remembers a lot of crying and doors slamming.  I remember being at a friend's house, probably around 10 or 11 and they were making Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes.  I remember how "light" the kitchen felt, full of hospitality and it was so odd to me.  As I started getting around other families as I grew up, I realized that their home was the same way.  Safe havens.  Ours looked like a photo shoot but was void of what I craved.  My mom had every kitchen gadget known to man but didn't cook.  Every type of holiday decoration you could imagine but didn't decorate.  I didn't know what was wrong with my mother but she played victim and always convinced us that our Dad was the problem.  I blamed him for many years (and yes, he has his role in all this, but he is not the cause of her issues; I've found out by many relatives she's been like this since she was in high school).  I was cast into the "protector" role (she convinced me my Dad was hitting her although I never saw it).  I didn't really get it until probably mid high school when I started noticing how much she lied about everything, mostly money.  And then she started taking my paychecks from summer/part time jobs.

She would vacuum my room in the middle of the night.  She chased me down the street because she didn't think my SAT score was high enough.  She threw a 32 oz. drink on me in the middle of a mall.  She expected perfection from me.  I had to make all As and be an honor graduate.  We were the perfect family in our small, little town.  No one seemed to know what was going on inside our home (my Dad is NPD with gambling and alcohol addictions as well).  One time, my mother just took off across the country with my sisters for about two weeks because she was upset with my Dad and left me to stay with a friend.  But I couldn't tell the friend's family why I needed to stay there (or the truth anyway).  It was just chaos, all the time.  I was also parentified--I bought my little sister's Santa every year.  I remember not liking my Mother at a very young age but feeling bound to her.  She now makes my skin literally crawl.  I don't know why my Dad doesn't have that affect on me.  He was no Ward Cleaver.  I think it is because he was self destructive and yes, it indirectly affected me but he didn't actually DO IT TO ME.  Like she purposefully manipulates, lies and steals and it is a direct hit.  I guess that's the only difference.  Or maybe I trusted her more.  So the fall was harder.  I don't know.  Sometimes I feel guilty that I still talk to him and not her.  Neither probably deserves a relationship... .

Later, she "attempted" suicide twice (by taking a whole pack of Benadryl--can that kill you?).  Right around that time, she stole my two younger sister's identity with their SSN and got $50,000 of student loans they are now paying back.  That was ten years ago.  Recently, she just did it again to her new husband.  Forged $35,000 in credit card fraud (applied for cards in his name and ran them up).  No one does anything about it.  They are all too scared to hold her accountable.  Now, at 40, and a parent to four, I see how sick it all was.  I can't imagine doing to my children what she did to us.  But I think she thinks she is still the victim, not us.  She's jealous of all her children.  She started latching on to my eldest girl and manipulating so I had to nip that relationship.  It's just always something.  And I just don't have the energy for it.  Life's too short.  I struggle with having a relationship with her or not, but I read on the other boards how you have to basically put on emotional armor and have all these tactics for dealing with a BPD parent and it just seems like too much trouble for no return.  I mean, how do you have a relationship with someone you don't trust at all?

Anyway, I digress.  It wasn't until my early 30s when I got myself in therapy and read The Borderline Mother by Christine Lawson.  It was like a light bulb went off.  I was reading my life story.  It was SO validating.  I still struggle with the OG in the FOG.  Especially, since my two sisters are very enmeshed with her. 

[SeaSwirl]

Thank you all for sharing your stories. Reading your experiences pulled at my heart and it also reminded me that we are not alone, we have each other. Our journeys might have begun on a twisted, treacherous road, but we have come a long way. We are here.

Whatever path we choose to set our feet on, we make the road by walking.


SeaSwirl 

[arky]

Sadly, I didn't know she was different until I was around 18. I thought all mothers were just like mine. I thought I was a horrible child and deserved everything. I thought it was teenage rebellion that make her say the most vile, hateful things to me. I am just now, at age 24, beginning to cope with it. My mother controlled every aspect of my life and limited my friends so much that I was never really exposed to a loving mother example, and what little I did see, I just assumed that she was like my mother: kind when other people are present, but horrible when alone with her family.

[seahorse]

Sadly,until recently, at 53 years old could l 'name' my mother as a high functioning NPD. Thanks to the courage of posters who recount their journies, l have modelled them and this Christmas rejected her'dumping' on me- so l've set my first boundary and offloaded any FOG - particularly the fear and guilt. I've refused to accept the faults and blaming that came from an enmeshed sister and her triangulation with my mother. In some ways it was my DD24BPD who was within her right to express anger over a rejection and put down of her sister which propelled me to stand up for myself. My earliest memory is of being around six years old and trying desperately to pacify my mother for some innocent comment l had made. I won't have her and my sister dismiss and subordinate my daughters. I'm now NC with my sister yet need to retain some contact with my mother as she is widowed and l'm the only child who lives nearby- my sister lives interstate. So the sense of 'obligation' remains. Thank you to the poster who once stated the 'scapegoat' the healthiest in these dysfunctional relationships.That statement made me believe in myself!

[Anon56]

My mid-thirties are when I realized the full extent of my uBPDm's issues. It seems I knew very early on something was wrong. I do not remember much of my early years but I do remember hiding in my closet frequently and thinking I could not possibly be related to the people in my home. I also remember regularly wanting to run away and not liking my mother very much. Those events all happened before I was nine. Clearly something was going on, but I do not remember the specifics.

At nine my parents divorced. Following the divorce she used me, her nine yo daughter as emotional support. She divulged to me (thankfully she did NOT do this to my younger brother) every detail of why my father was a horrible, horrible man (he's really quite nice). Finally during my teenage years I started realizing something wasn't right, but I thought it was something simple like confidence issues. Additionally I was convinced the real issue was me. I was painted as the problem very early on. I was the family outkast. Being labeled as the problem all my life it was hard to comprehend that not being true.

Sadly almost twenty years later I finally started getting help for lifelong anxiety and it was at that time I became fully aware of BPD. I am currently NC with my uBPDm while I try to move on with my life.

[Turkish]

I don't think I ever thought of it at such a concious level. I was adopted by her at 2.5, so she was.my only mother. She was very proud of adopting as a single parent when it was controversial.(early 70s). Her abuse of me got worse as I hit puberty, of course. I moved out the day I turned 18 and could sign a lease. She had a mental breakdown that year. Gt into therapy, medicated, it was bad. I STILL didn't think "she's different" possibly because we hung around other dysfunctional.people.

At the end of my now 6 year r/s with my upwBPD, I realize what I did. My FOO got the better of me. I put up with all sorts of abusive behavior because it was normal.to.me,.despite having had over 17 years of peace after I moved out.

My mother is disagnosed as a high functioning Depressive. She disagrees that she is HF,.and I agree with that. She does, however, or did to me, exhibit several BPD traits (black/white thinking... . so much that to this day.I find it hard to take compliments... . push-pull, fear of abandonment/loss, severe mood swings, anger triggers).

I was painfully aware not having a father though. I.always knew that wasn't normal and it was my mothers concsious choice due to her horrible FOO, as I found out later after she came out to me about her long repressed childhood...

We have a decent r/s now. But at a distance. If I saw her all of the.time I don't know how it would be. I love her, but in a sort of detached way... . maybe out of duty, compassion more than anything. And I realize I'm the only real family she's.got on the planet...

[BlueCat]

I don't really know either. I don't have a lot of early memories and in my middle to late childhood I was miserable but didn't really think about it I guess. Somewhere in my teens (high school) I started thinking about how awful she treated me but I can't name a moment that I really knew.

She did drink a lot and one day I came home from school and my dad said to watch out because my mother was in the other room with "a beer in her hand". Before that we called it "her moods" but at that point I did wonder if maybe she was an alcoholic. And years later I realized while she does get a LOT worse when she's drinking, that's not the cause of it. I still got a lot from the one Adult Child of Alcoholics meeting I went to and the ACOA book I read. Children of alcoholics and children of narcotic users are a lot like the children of personality disordered people. We deal with a lot of the same issues as children and a lot of the same issues in therapy when we are grown.

But as a child I somehow hung out with people who didn't have great home lives. I didn't have a lot of friends, but my few best friends seem to come from bad homes (were beaten or neglected). So maybe that's part of why I didn't pick up on the problems earlier.

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