Challenge accepted! I've got a few memorable ones to share.
I'll start with a funny one. My family likes to go camping, and 2 years ago we went to Washington. My BPD mom tends to be at her best when we're all out in nature, so I was hoping for the best. One night, we're sitting around the campfire (on logs) after dinner and we were all a little gassy (there were MANY beans involved). My youngest sibling gets up, stands in front of my mom, and lets a HUGE one rip, right in her face. I'm on the other side of the campfire, resisting the urge to laugh. She suddenly gets up, stomps over to me, and yells at me for disrespecting her, and how could I do that to her, etc, etc. I'm just sitting there, stunned, like: "Mom, I was way over here, I'm not the one who farted in your face." What's even funnier to me now was how confused she looked when I said that, as though she truly believed I was the one who had done that and my sibling was completely innocent. My sibling fessed up, thankfully, so I was let off the hook.
The next one is a little less funny. For Christmas one year, I decided to knit my mom a shawl. It was the biggest, most complex thing I had ever made up to that point, and I was so proud of it. It took me weeks. Finally, it's Christmas, and we're at my maternal grandparent's condo. They're throwing gifts at me from all directions and I'm struggling to keep up, making sure to give a huge performance at each gift of how much I love it and it's awesome (because often when I didn't my mom would get upset with me, and I was worried others would hate me too if I didn't appreciate their present ENOUGH). When the chaos finally ends, I'm looking for my mom so that I can give her the shawl I made. I couldn't find her. She eventually makes her presence known by loudly sobbing from the bedroom. My grandfather, her biggest enabler, rushes in to console her. She starts talking about how no one cares about her, and her own daughters didn't get her a present, and she's so miserable, and this is the worst Christmas ever... .And all I can think of is that this is all my fault and I should have given her her present first, I shouldn't have accepted presents for myself, that I was selfish and worthless. I walked in, tentatively, and tried to cheer her up. I said: "Mom, we all love you. I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to give this to you earlier, but here's something I made for you." She opened the box, pulled out the shawl that was folded up with a ribbon, sneered at it, threw it on the floor, and started bawling again about how no one cares about her. I was heartbroken. What's worse, she kept it. With the original ribbon still wrapped around it. IT's on her closet floor, 5 years later, and when it's not there it's because she has put it out somewhere for me to see when she's upset with me. Ever since then I've only been able to get her expensive, store-bought gifts, and even they don't always make the cut. This year, I got her a gift card to one of her favorite stores because she likes picking out her own stuff and she'd get the VIP points, and I tried to pair that with a fun gift she could use when family comes over because she likes to host. They didn't make the cut, because I didn't make Christmas all about her this year. My boyfriend, who is the most supportive and caring person I know, suggested that next year, we should just get her an empty box if she's not even going to open it. I know he was kidding (sort of), but waht she did to us this year was too far. I don't think he'll ever forgive her for hurting me so badly.
This one is funny in a way, but it was also one of the most damaging interactions I've had with my mom. She denies this entire situation to this day. I was 17, getting ready to go away to university. I was leaving in a few months, moving about 6 hours away, and I was SO glad to be getting out of there and having a fresh start. One evening, my mom didn't come home from work at her usual time. My siblings and I waited for her. I probably could have prepared dinner for us, we would have eaten and gone to bed and been fine, but I was afraid that if I made the wrong thing for dinner my mom would lash out (there was a lot of control over food). Plus, there was the fear that she would lash out if we ate without her. So around 7PM I told my siblings (11 and 15 at the time) to grab a snack. I didn't dare. I helped my youngest sibling finish their homework, and we all stayed up together waiting for our mom. She finally shows up after 10PM (on a tuesday) and tells us we need to go outside and put up her new gazebo. My sister (15) rolled her eyes and went along with it, and told me not to say anything because it would be easier just to get it over with. Something in me kind of snapped. I turned to my mom and said: "No, mom. We're not putting up the gazebo. It's late, the youngest has school tomorrow, and we still haven't eaten. What can I make?" She turns to me, this terrifying look in her eye, and starts screaming at me. You don't understand anything, I've been working hard all day, you never do anything, I just want this one thing to get done, etc. She starts stomping towards me and screaming that I'm grounded, to go get my computer and phone and that I can't go out until I leave (this was a very normal punishment, I think this had a huge impact on my social life and social skills, as I was never allowed to go out or communicate with other people unless I was at hockey practice. No schools trips, no weekends at the mall, nothing). I go to get my things and she follows me up to my room. She was scaring me, so I tossed my things out of my room and into the hall, trying to keep her away, but it only made her angrier. She rushed at me, I tried to close the door, but she pushed through. She grabbed me by the throat and squeezed. My vision went dark. Luckily, my self-defense training had kicked in, and I broke free of her grasp before anything bad could happen. She was stunned, I like to think that it's because she was horrified by what she had done, but I have no way of knowing for sure. I looked her in the eye and told her never to touch me again, and then I ran outside. I ended up at a teacher's house (I lived in a small town), and she and her daughter brought me in, got me comfortable, listened to me, and comforted me. Unfortunately my mom knew exactly where I'd go because my social circle was so limited. She called the cops, told them I had attacked her and run off. They found me, I told them my story, but they wouldn't believe me. The cop told me I should try harder to be a better daughter, and that my mom is doing such a great job raising us all on her own (something I heard VERY often). I didn't want to cause any more trouble for my teacher and her family, so I went home with them. I got to ride in the front seat which was kind of cool. Then I got a lecture, the guy was telling me about his daughter and how she sometimes acts out and that I have to try harder to make things easier on my mom etc. When I got home my mom wouldn't even look at me. I questioned myself for years about whether or not I had actually attacked her, but I know I didn't.
Christmas was always a ___ty time with her, I finally understand why I always dreaded it. One year when I was maybe 13 or 14, I was grounded as usual. No computer, no phone, no socializing outside the family or hockey. I had somehow managed to get myself a boyfriend (we played hockey together, ), and I asked if I could send him a message for Christmas since I couldn't see him. She laughed and said no, that I didn't deserve it. My maternal grandmother, who has always been trying to protect me from my mom, later came to see me and said I could quickly sign on and send him a message to say Merry Christmas, because my mom was out running an errand. I signed on, sent my message, and then went back to making tiaras with my younger cousin. The next day, my mom came up to me out of the blue and said that she had reconsidered and that she would allow me to use the computer to send a message to my boyfriend. When I didn't respond with over the top gratitude she got upset, and my uncle told her that my grandmother had let me send a message the day before. My mom was so mad that I got grounded for another year, and my mom's side of the family didn't speak to me until a few years later, when we had the knit shawl fiasco. I learned that my mom could withdraw her love and affection, and that of others as well.
I'd like to end on a positive note. One day my mom was driving me to a really big hockey game. I was so nervous. Not only was this a really important game to win, but my mom was actually going to be there to see me play (which was rare). My mom did the best thing she could have done. She popped in an Amanda Marshall CD and played the song "believe in you". Here's the lyrics:
Somewhere there's a river
Looking for a stream
Somewhere there's a dreamer
Looking for a dream
Somewhere there's a drifter
Trying to find his way
Somewhere someone's waiting
To hear somebody say
I believe in you
I can't even count the ways that
I believe in you
And all I want to do is help you to
Believe in you
Somewhere there's an angel
Trying to earn his wings
Somewhere there's a silent voice
Learning how to sing
Some of us can't move ahead
We're paralyzed with fear
And everybody's listening
'Cause we all need to hear
I believe in you
I can't even count the ways that
I believe in you
And all I want to do is help you to
Believe in you
I will hold you up
I will help you stand
I will comfort you when you need a friend
I will be the voice that's calling out
I believe in you
I can't even count the ways that
I believe in you
And all I want to do is show you
I believe in you
And there are just so many ways that
I believe in you
Baby, what else can I do but believe in you, believe in you
All I want to know is you believe, believe in you
It meant so much to me. I cried. This was one of the rare occasions where I felt like she saw me for me, not as this distorted reflection of everything she hates about herself, or the source of all her problems. People with BPD can do some really terrible things with lasting impacts, but I know there's a person in there who is just terrified of being alone and unworthy. A person who wants to connect but is afraid to be vulnerable. A person who is probably ashamed of who they are and trying to cope with it as best they can. I find it so profoundly sad that she can't see the good in herself, or the good around her, or that her behaviour is pushing everyone away. In a way, she's just like me, waiting for the next sucker punch, except she's got a blindfold and her hands tied behind her back. I used to let this convince me to enable her, that if I was good enough, nice enough, patient enough she'd get better. But enabling her isn't doing squat for either of us. She may not have been able to take care of me, but I can take care of myself.
Sorry if this was long, enjoy!
