Childhood indoctrination

[bethanny]

There’s a website that helped me called the Crappy Childhood Fairy. She talks about childhood ptsd.

When I rallied courage as an adult to challenge my ubpd mother and she had a super psychotic meltdown that was traumatizing added to the trauma that had motivated my assertiveness. Added to the trauma of having my mother immediately treacherously lie about me, character assassinate me to everyone in my life, especially my siblings. To have my siblings play ostrich and abandon me for 10 heartbreaking years.

One brother was a constant bully growing up, but I trusted the love of the other two brothers but they were championing my mother and they totally bought into her version of me apparently . No effort to reach out. It was stunning. Growing up in an alcoholic family, so much trauma, but the family mandate was secrecy at all costs. All the secrets I had kept. Then my mother not only telling secrets but lies.

My mother was legitimately pitiable at times. I was not prepared for her to exploit people by lying about me. But she used that modus operandi to control me. She flipped me as rescuer to perpetrator in a NY minute.

Also, I had struggled to be a devoted daughter to my mother and assumed my brothers recognized that.

When the break came with my mother and she so easily and treacherously took custody of my family network and they were so easily played, I was gobsmacked. Having self esteem was such a struggle and then suddenly dealing with the attachment disorder with a borderline personality mother but then relatives whose good Will I had enjoyed and assumed was stronger.

I didn’t have it in me to do political social combat with my mother putting forth my truth. Her abuse of me had been mostly conducted in secret. She was the pitied martyred wife of an alcoholic. I had even spent my life making excuses for her
I had thought she had a split personality. Sometimes she loved  me, sometimes she turned into a witch. But with the estrangement she gave no effort to communicate. She apparently had no link of intimacy with me after all I had done and been through with her. I discovered there was even less love than I had assumed. There was an irrational malice that has always possessed her.

I read where ubpd people appreciate “affinity” — people giving them solicitousness— but there is no intimacy. So many friendships I had had were not balanced and mutual. But my offering a maternal affinity. A beggar for love to people who aren’t capable of giving it. And I am drawn to people like my parents who were incapable. An addictive futile quest.

And there was no interest from my brothers to comfort me. They were too enthralled with my mother’s neediness.

From the time I was a toddler I felt I had to walk a tightrope of obedience without a net. If I tried to be her perfect child we both knew I couldn’t be I knew one wrong step and she would reject and abandon me. Unleash psychotic “annihilating” anger.

All my life I had authority issues at work because never had my parents showed the maturity to process conflict resolution with me. They were might and right and I had no option but to endure their Will. And my mother would not recognize my rights of becoming an adult.

I was a role, not a human being.

[Notwendy]

Also, I had struggled to be a devoted daughter to my mother and assumed my brothers recognized that.

When the break came with my mother and she so easily a treacherously took custody of my family network and they were so easily played, I was gobsmacked. Having self esteem was such a struggle and then suddenly dealing with the attachment disorder with a borderline personality mother but then relatives whose good Will I had enjoyed and assumed was stronger.

I discovered there was even less love than I had assumed. There was an irrational malice that has always possessed her.

I read where ubpd people appreciate “affinity” — people giving them solicitousness— but there is no intimacy.

And there was no interest from my brothers to comfort me. They were too enthralled with my mother’s neediness.

From the time I was a toddler I felt I had to walk a tightrope of obedience without a net. If I tried to be her perfect child we both knew I couldn’t be I knew one wrong step and she would reject and abandon me. Unleash psychotic “annihilating” anger.

I was a role, not a human being.

I highlighted these statements as I can relate if one substitutes my father for your brothers in them. My father was drawn into my mother's neediness. With my mother, she sees me as useful to her.

[Riv3rW0lf]

Hi again,

Both your posts resonate so very much with me...

I also lost my relationship with both my brothers when things hit the fan with my mother. For a while, I truly thought it would be ok, because they did feel a need to "protect their little sister" too, but in the end, the pressure from BPD mother is too big and they both stopped talking to me

One of them took it upon himself to add to the pressure to get me back into the fold, and cut contact after I told him that this was none of his business and to stay out of it.

The other still will text me happy birthday, or happy Christmas, but I can sense he is doing his own thing away from me, because this is the best protection against our mother's pressure. When he comes back from her house, my father told me he often calls him and tells him how terrible I am to have done what I did to our mother. I see it as a way for him to self regulate, because he knows, unconsciously, that my father (who left my mother many many years ago) will bring him back to balance by vouching for me, and explaining him I didn't mean to hurt anyone. My brother usually quiets down and calm himself... He will often hate our father too though... It's like he absorbs who she is when he spends time with her, and feels like her, talks like her, hates whomever wronged her...he loses sense of himself through her... Which makes our relationship impossible...

The pressure through both my brothers is very intense... I don't feel lonely though... I feel free? Sometimes it makes me feel bad about myself that I am not more in pain...like... I don't think it's dissociation anymore... I think I was just so lonely, so left by myself, so neglected as the third child, that this is like...a continuity? Like I never really felt I belonged anyway. So I built myself my own home, where I DO belong...and I simply don't miss any of them, their drama, their problem...

It does help a lot though that my father is mostly safe. A bit egocentric maybe, but mostly safe. He doesn't scream, he doesn't lash out. He has trouble listening for long periods of time but he does try. He worked a lot on himself, and can offer compassion. He rarely judges and he can tell me at times how proud he is. I realize now that him separating my mother saved my sanity. The fact that I have one safe parent who can truly speak for himself, with whom I can have a real relationship, not manipulated by my mother...I think it plays a huge part in me not being overridden with guilt and shame with my choice of being away from my FOO...

Because ultimately, cutting contact with my BPD mother was also me choosing my father. He never asked me to choose... But she did, many times, put pressure on us... And so I did.

[bethanny]

NotWendy and Riv3R,

How precious to have the opportunity to communicate with people who “get it.” 

For so many years I minimized that the moments of psychotic anger from my mother were caused by stress from my alcoholic father.  The annihilating anger and words that shattered me seemed to be from a crazed person and she never later seemed to acknowledge or remember it. Like a multiple personality State? But if I tried to poke around to see if she did remember I triggered a return of the witch State but I comforted myself the good mother was mostly in charge. As I walked the tightrope of obedience.

I blamed myself for being afraid of her. I stayed pretty obsequious and probably a lot passive aggressive and also in a depressed and anxious state. I went to 12 step meetings and went to therapists from time to time. Mostly women therapists. No one ever analyzed my mother as a borderline personality because I didn’t know enough about it and I was in her “thrall” with my fear and didn’t analyze or verbalize about her cruelty

I have had authority figure issues with therapists and bosses all my life. With such volatile parents I have had a hard time negotiating with bosses and doing conflict resolution since that was never modeled for me in our dysfunctional family.

When I finally asserted myself to her before my estrangement I was profoundly afraid of her rage and knew it wouldn’t go away quickly. It was also gaslighting to me when she began projecting onto me I was punishing and rejecting her when she was inflicting them on me. I also was so naive not to see it coming. My mother manipulating people against me — like she often did to me and siblings to step in to control my father.

I have sadness that though my father was difficult and not inclined to empathy I lost an opportunity for more closeness having to hold my mother’s perspective on him as part of the scenario as you both recognize so well.

I would try to empathize with him but the raging drunkenness made me ultimately detach from him. His craziness was scary. But looking back, I recognize he probably drank among other reasons to deal with her demandingness and the psychotic anger.he feared from her in his sober state.

Our altercation that triggered my estrangement showed me her total lack of ability and willingness to communicate with me person to person, mother to daughter, but at the same time she was gobsmackingly quick to spring into action instead to engage everyone in our mutual network, even friends of mine she didn’t like, to pity her because I was acting crazy and hurtful and abandoning her.

She did a marvelous job and they were upset this terrible and obvious confusion existed between us. I called her back to see if she was in a truly sobbing and confused state. I got the scalding witch who clearly was playing a game of character assassination. I so wasn’t expecting how far she would go to sustain her saintly image and loyalty to family and friends. The sad truth was as she told people I was acting crazy, I sadly had been going genuinely crazy.

I backed away to give her a chance to simmer down. I had no idea my brothers would forsake me. Especially after time was passing. It broke my heart. I know I was more of her scapegoat but I don’t think they wanted to know the truth about her which like me means they knew subconsciously how high  the actual stakes were in crossing her. 

I was shocked she worked so fast to disenfranchise me from the family network. Also that she didn’t seem to want to regain our “affinity” relationship since I felt I had been dutiful as best I could.  But I don’t think she comprehended how much of my life she had commandeered and how hard I was trying to accommodate.

I lost a support system, but I think I needed to take care that said support system, and my life was so much about secrets I didn’t have deep confidantes,  didn’t coax me back into placating a crazymaking but pitiable mother, especially after losing some long stubborn illusions of her loyalty and concern for me. And the big lie ended — that I acted more out of pity for my mother than the actual terror she managed to instill in me. That was a turning point for me. To acknowledge that truth.

I had learned that in alcoholic families there exists the Karpman triangle in which family members take turns playing victim, rescuer and persecutor. She had flipped my role for her as rescuer to seeming persecutor even though I was being persecuted by her.

After the 10 year estrangement I limped back into the family invited by one brother. I wanted that connection back though I kept myself at a girded distance from my mother, my still sadly drinking father, and my brothers who offered affection but not the ability to understand bpd — but neither was I understanding it fully, back then. Years later a friend recommended Lawson’s book about borderline mothers.

I have tried to share what I learned with my brothers who are still reluctant to listen let alone believe. But they offer good will and kindness.

Both my parents have passed on. I know they both had traumatic childhoods. I know they were locked in their own disorders.

I thought eventually the truth and love I was pushing so hard would be acknowledged by my family and generate changes and mutual understanding.

Now I say recovery is learning to let go of what you never had.

Still — Maybe then one can appreciate what she actually did have. Without the self-lies in the face of a sad, sad reality.

Thanks for listening.

Best,
Bethanny

[Notwendy]

My BPD mother was angry at me around the time that my father passed away. In Karpman style dynamics, she prefers victim position. My father, her "rescuer" and enabler, rallied to her side as did her extended family and some long time family friends. I was shocked that people who have known me for that long a time would do this. I was also shocked at how BPD mother didn't seem to have restraints on her hurtful behavior. She has narcissistic traits- and no empathy. I have wondered if she could be sociopathic. She seems to enjoy being abusive to people.

At the time that BPD mother seemed to be enlisting others to her side, I decided to not have much contact with anyone in her circle. I figured that they mostly "knew" me through what she tells them. A while ago, some of them reached out to me. They also experienced her behavior. So have the people who help care for her ( she's elderly and has people assist her)- she's been abusive to them.  In a way, it's been validating to hear  this but it's not been good for her or anyone who attempts to assist her.

For me, I think the best approach to people "going to her side" has been to make my best attempt at following my own values. What my BPD mother thinks doesn't define me. I have also found 12 step CODA to be helpful- even if others don't have a parent with BPD, the family patterns are similar.

Now I say recovery is learning to let go of what you never had.


I think there is grief involved in the process of radical acceptance. I also thought if only I could be "good enough" that my parents would love me like I wished they would but as you said- parents can be also in their own difficulties. Recovery is discovering that we already are "good enough" for people to be decent to us.

[bethanny]

NotWendy,

That was  all so wisely expressed. Thank you.

I was raised by my mother so that if I dared say no to her all hell broke loose. I took that as a template that I had to be “nice” and rewarding in spite of not protecting my boundaries. My mother liked my pleasing people who validated her after. But sometimes was enraged when I was saying yes to the people interfering with her needs for me. I was too naive to factor in her narcissism.

The chronic nature of the invalidation is what can give at least some of us complex-PTSD. It isn’t one time trauma… it is like prisoners of war repeatedly punished and restricted until they give up in despair. Don’t change. Like the baby elephant tied to a post. It stays tied to post even when huge because mindset is defeatist. It could easily pull out the post but doesn’t know it.

There is a website I explored for a while called The Crappy Childhood Fairy. She calls it “childhood PTSD” instead of complex PTSD. Good stuff there.

One of my siblings shamed me mercilessly growing up. He was the “hero” child. We had different temperaments but I was dismayed at the intensity of his outrage at whatever I did. My mother laughed it off but there were times I noticed she was heavily feeding him her perspective and like what she did to my relationship with my father, doomed that relationship I had with my brother. I know he and my mother had similar temperaments. I thought my problematic relationship with him was independent but looking back I suspect she primed him. Once I was in a car accident in my parents’ car. and Instead of acknowledging the significance that I had survived upon first seeing me he railed at me on expenses and needs about a replacement car, stuff that I was shocked he was interested in or privy to since he had been away. They were going to get a smaller car he informed me but if I were accident prone now they couldn’t, etc. He was totally enraged and I expected at least modest comfort since I was still in shock. I was so confused especially at the degree of his anger. My survival seemed irrelevant. And he expected me to have already understood the car situation.

Guilt is when you know you did something wrong. Shame is when someone is accusing you and your essence as being wrong. It is insidious and like water on a rock, it erodes your confidence. When you get ambushed with malice from others you can’t easily ignore it because significant people in your life attacked and confused you. You wrongly trusted them. The depth of their anger misled you into doubting yourself. Confuse from the Latin , “fuse with”.

My mother had generous moments to me which added to the crazymaking. When I strained to serve her. But since I was a toddler now looking back her grotesque over-reactions to any misstep no matter how modest or inadvertent were terrifying. My dad was orphaned at 5. Both parents didn’t seem to have a good sense of the maturation process of children. My mother seemed wiser but then could blow you out of the water. Histrionics and righteousness.

Also, my mother played on my natural grandiosity growing up. But that was a noose eventually. Since she labeled me as such a good girl she acted betrayed that after receiving her praise I would let her down being a person with my own needs.

We were seriously groomed for self-denial and will-less ness  as kids.

Part of my disappointment with my brothers, they didn’t seem to appreciate how trying to keep my parents on keel as much as possible cut into my adult freedom. They lived far away. I thought at least they appreciated I was trying to fulfill that mascot role.

When things got bad between my parents my
Mother wound me up to get them involved from a distance. Sometimes I confided because I needed the support but they responded by comforting her and not getting the stress I was suffering.

I haven’t been around here for a while but these issues no matter how old I am getting sometimes deserve airing with people who can relate and empathize. Thanks again. I remember your help the last time I visited.

I know being out of denial is better than being in it. But re family playing the messenger role can be thankless and/or futile.

Good luck to you!

Best,
Bethanny
Xx

[Riv3rW0lf]

Still — Maybe then one can appreciate what she actually did have. Without the self-lies in the face of a sad, sad reality.

This is actually what I find the hardest. My BPD mother is almost purely borderline. She has some narcissistic defenses, but it doesn't seem like she has the very cruel ways a covert narcissist can have. She is mostly intense, and impulsive, and filled with rage.

This rage was unleashed on me one too many times. Mostly though, she was neglectful. Either she was emotionally manipulative, or she was completely neglectful.

And then there are the odd memories of her near a lilac tree, wanting me to smell it, or making me crowns of flowers to put in my hair. The odd laughs when we ran into a nudist fishing near the water or when we'd play Kanasta or another card game.

There's the times she had the bus driver leave me in a tavern, would disappear at night to go drink, the times when she'd forgot me in school, never coming to pick me up, and the would lash out at me for feeling sad... Then there's all the times she made me sandwiches instead of simply giving me the leftovers, to my request, because I was way too shy to heat my meals at the microwaves in school...

She wasn't all bad, and she did love me as a baby, I believe, as a toddler too, sometimes as a child... But as a teenager and young women, it's hard to explain. There were still some good times, but I could always sense the rigid line I was walking on, always one wrong step from falling into an abyss of rage. There there was the jealousy and the competition, the envy that appeared as I started making my own way into the world.

I did start seeing a more balanced picture of her through my time in no contact... The bads, but also the goods.

The extremes of her personnality are both good and bad; looking at the goods overwhelms me with guilt, and being in contact overwhelms me with shame.

[zachira]

We get it here that being indoctrinated in childhood to become a doormat for the family dysfunction creates extreme distress in being able to move forward. Skip, one of the key people in maintaining this site for many years, says "differentiation" is the cure to overcoming growing up in a disordered family. My therapist had a strong foundation in Murray Bowen's Family Systems Theory. Murray Bowen invented the term "differentiation". I have found that the more I become "differentiated", from my FOO, the more I am able to be a person in my own right and separate myself from the toxic family dynamics of my large extended disordered family. Keep seeking answers and you will slowly start to feel better and be less affected by your disordered family members. 

[bethanny]

Riv, the kindnesses make the relationship with the bpd parent all the crueler. They say when experimenting with mice being inconsistent with reward and punishment makes them craziest.

One of the wisest things I once read was from Scott Peck who said it was evil to titsuck from and yet demand to control someone at the same time. Like an immature baby wanting comfort but total control of the caretaker. The narcissistic will takes takes takes. Also, my mother believed she could give what she wanted and take what she wanted. She determined the terms and your opinion of what she was giving had no relevance. She was owed.

Being the scapegoat child of a bpd mother was existing in a horrifying symbiotic relationship whereby she projects her self hate onto me and freely becomes abusive to compensate for her own shame or guilt. She made impossible demands so I should try to meet her ego demands, applying them to my functioning.

My brother also unloaded rage at me and that was symbiotic and crazymaking. Growing up for example he would shriek at me and shame me that I liked the wrong music. How can you like the wrong music?  You like what you like. But it wetblanketed my interest in music.

I avoid closeness with people today because of such abuse of significant others growing up. Will they assume entitlement eventually to dominate me. And I often set it up by automatically serving them and also often getting hooked up with narcissists.

After living so many years on my mother’s leash, desperately trying to prevent her psychotic anger eruptions. I want peace. I distrust my own indoctrinated passivity to bullies. Still. And I am not young anymore.

Zach, the family therapy sounds interesting but when the rest of the family is willing to say sacrifice a sibling to “keep the peace” there would have to be a profoundly charismatic and trustworthy facilitator to recognize the degree of denial in the participants and the slick and bald-faced lying machinations at times of the Borderline personality parent. My brother once hired a guy to do an intervention on my alcoholic father and he took the money and ran hanging out for a NY minute. It was heartbreaking his shallowness.

The messenger gets killed is not an idle quote. And a borderline family is rigid and the bpd parent is like the hub of a  wheel and the family members are spokes groomed to only lead  to her.

Best,
Bethanny

[zachira]

Becoming differentiated from your family of origin is not about getting family therapy; it is about becoming a person in your own right, no longer taking on the bad feelings that others dump on you, and feeling good about who you are most of the time.

[bethanny]

Thank you.