Has the anger gone too far?

[Before you can make things better, you have to stop making them worse...]

Oh, my old friend - anger.

I have been very angry for a very long time.  It was always right there under the surface, just waiting to pounce.

I won't bore anyone with my experiences with my recent relationship with my diagnosed spouse (not BPD, but another PD... . but she fits ALL of the markings so I just call it undiagnosed BPD).  Reason I won't say I won't bore you because all my stories will sound like all your stories.  Trust me on that one.

But after coming to this board recently - and realizing my mother was also diagnosed... . it's like a window opened and a breeze of fresh air came rolling in.  Mind you - I'm not at the point where I have a lot of empathy for my mother yet.  I mean, the very least she could have maybe told me she was under psychiatric care.  I mean by what has always gone on in her life it was safe to assume she wasn't "right" - but come on... . it would have been good to know I grew up in a house with someone with this disorder.

When I was younger - I could be going along just fine and then snap at the drop of a dime if someone so much as looked at me wrong.  The look of anger running across my face was the difference between night and day.   I have a HUGE vocabulary and use it to cut you down to bite sized chunks crying home to your mamma.  Then... . poof... . it's turned off and I'm a happy little boy.

Yes, I realize now I have been reacting to a long ago trauma called my mother.

I couldn't jump on her for her outlandish behaviors towards me... . and I couldn't run around wanting to kill the cat - jeez, I would get in trouble for that and she would go ballistic.  instead, I carried it around just under the surface and heaven help any friend playing in the playground with me if they accidently stepped to me wrong or invalidated me.

After I joined the service and after basic training, I came home for a bit before heading off to my first duty station.  While I was in my room on the top floor sleeping... . I heard some familiar hollering and screaming and it was getting louder and louder and closer and closer.  I popped out of my door to find my baby sister running top speed up the stairs to get away from my mother who was in hot pursuit.

My sister ran into me, and I instinctively put her behind me putting me inbetween her and my raging mother.  I stood up to my mother and ordered her to stop... . turn around... . and go back downstairs.  My sister was so scared.  My mother was in a blind rage.  I was too old and too big for her to hit me again... . so she turned around and went downstairs.

I calmed my sister down... . who eventually went back downstairs.

Whatever the thing was that my mom was angry about (probably finding a pair of shoes)... . I probably did what I needed to do to pacify her so I could start my wonderful day in the neighborhood.  Put on my clothes, head out into the city... . smile on my face - and then people wonder why when someone "steps on my toes" I'm ready to pounce.

After finding this group and after all the clarity hit - I stumbled on something else.

EVERY SINGLE RELATIONSHIP I have been in since I graduated HS has been with an emotionally abusive woman.  I would dare say that they all had some PD.  But I fell right into place... . and hated every minute of it.  (Oh the sex was great... . but everything else sucked).

I couldn't figure out why my first G/F I wanted to break up with shortly after we started dating.

I was 17 (I graduated early).  She was 19.  Within a few months of dating, she said I was going to be the person she married.  Freaked me out a bit, but I let it slide.  She was a little overbearing and a little needy - let that slide.  But I remember this one time we went to be intimate (we always used condoms) - but we were out.  So I did some other things to and for her where no condoms were needed and when she was "finished"... . I'm thinking it would be my turn.  Nope.  She went to bed.

I didn't know what to do or say - so let it go.  But I was angry and fuming.  She controlled when we were intimate, how often, you get the drill.  And I didn't like that in the least bit.  Eventually I went to go break up with her - and she threatened to commit suicide.  That sucked me back in for a bit... . but not too long.  Then I finally started "dating" this other girl on the side - really nice young lady.  I think she would have probably been the first healthy relationship I was ever in.  But I went off to basic training... . got a little emotional - and asked my G/F to marry me.  I know... . big mistake.

I knew it was a mistake not too long afterwards, but didn't let her know at first.  I was still out of town so there wasn't a need.

Eventually I made my way back home, and told her I didn't want to get married.  Yay... . off the hook - right?  Nope.  we ended up in bed and later she claimed she was pregnant.  I got sucked in again.  But I didn't marry her.  The due date was just not computing.  I mean, I knew when I was home on leave and when it was possible she could have conceived with my child and the numbers were not adding up.

I asked for a blood test once the baby was born if I were going to continue to support her (I started sending support monies right away)... . she refused.  So I stopped and officialy broke up.  She then moves in with my mother - and why not?  She tells the whole family it is my child so this is my mothers first grandchild. 

This goes on for ten years until she had moved away to another state, filed for welfare, put me down as the father and claims she doesn't know where I am.  They eventually find me (not like I was hiding... . she had my home and work number so she coulda just had them call me)... . but the test came back saying I was no part of being his father.

To this day... . no apologies from her - no apologies from my mother for standing behind her and not her own son.  nothing.

So... . angry?  Yeah - just a bit.

And what my second relationship was like, my first marriage, was pure hell.  I think what this woman did to me afterwards was worse than what she did while we were together.  But the main difference is that she took out her vengeance on the children.  Luckily I was able to get custody of them and they lived with me until adults - but that is a different story.

And my third relationship was just about as bad as the second.  In the end ... . pure hell. 

This is the one which eventually lead me here... . and rabbit hole my way back to my mother.

So... . angry?  Yeah - just a bit.

But I don't want to sit here hating them - or hating me - or being so angry that it ruins my day... . nor do I want to be so angry that it clouds my perception of loving and growing in a healthy manner.

I've pretended too long.  I put on masks to make it seem that I'm okay with the insanity going on around me - when I'm really not.  I realize now I turned too many times to drinking or work or projects to keep my mind busy from the uncontrollable chaos around me.  Well I don't wanna do that.  I don't want to find another way to better deal with my anger - I want to get it gone.

One step is to realize what the heck has just happened to me and why.

I was an abused child.  My mother abused me - and my father tried, but couldn't protect me.  No one protected me.

When is it going to be my turn to be protected?

[woodsposse]

Oh, my old friend - anger.

I have been very angry for a very long time.  It was always right there under the surface, just waiting to pounce.

I won't bore anyone with my experiences with my recent relationship with my diagnosed spouse (not BPD, but another PD... . but she fits ALL of the markings so I just call it undiagnosed BPD).  Reason I won't say I won't bore you because all my stories will sound like all your stories.  Trust me on that one.

But after coming to this board recently - and realizing my mother was also diagnosed... . it's like a window opened and a breeze of fresh air came rolling in.  Mind you - I'm not at the point where I have a lot of empathy for my mother yet.  I mean, the very least she could have maybe told me she was under psychiatric care.  I mean by what has always gone on in her life it was safe to assume she wasn't "right" - but come on... . it would have been good to know I grew up in a house with someone with this disorder.

When I was younger - I could be going along just fine and then snap at the drop of a dime if someone so much as looked at me wrong.  The look of anger running across my face was the difference between night and day.   I have a HUGE vocabulary and use it to cut you down to bite sized chunks crying home to your mamma.  Then... . poof... . it's turned off and I'm a happy little boy.

Yes, I realize now I have been reacting to a long ago trauma called my mother.

I couldn't jump on her for her outlandish behaviors towards me... . and I couldn't run around wanting to kill the cat - jeez, I would get in trouble for that and she would go ballistic.  instead, I carried it around just under the surface and heaven help any friend playing in the playground with me if they accidently stepped to me wrong or invalidated me.

After I joined the service and after basic training, I came home for a bit before heading off to my first duty station.  While I was in my room on the top floor sleeping... . I heard some familiar hollering and screaming and it was getting louder and louder and closer and closer.  I popped out of my door to find my baby sister running top speed up the stairs to get away from my mother who was in hot pursuit.

My sister ran into me, and I instinctively put her behind me putting me inbetween her and my raging mother.  I stood up to my mother and ordered her to stop... . turn around... . and go back downstairs.  My sister was so scared.  My mother was in a blind rage.  I was too old and too big for her to hit me again... . so she turned around and went downstairs.

I calmed my sister down... . who eventually went back downstairs.

Whatever the thing was that my mom was angry about (probably finding a pair of shoes)... . I probably did what I needed to do to pacify her so I could start my wonderful day in the neighborhood.  Put on my clothes, head out into the city... . smile on my face - and then people wonder why when someone "steps on my toes" I'm ready to pounce.

After finding this group and after all the clarity hit - I stumbled on something else.

EVERY SINGLE RELATIONSHIP I have been in since I graduated HS has been with an emotionally abusive woman.  I would dare say that they all had some PD.  But I fell right into place... . and hated every minute of it.  (Oh the sex was great... . but everything else sucked).

I couldn't figure out why my first G/F I wanted to break up with shortly after we started dating.

I was 17 (I graduated early).  She was 19.  Within a few months of dating, she said I was going to be the person she married.  Freaked me out a bit, but I let it slide.  She was a little overbearing and a little needy - let that slide.  But I remember this one time we went to be intimate (we always used condoms) - but we were out.  So I did some other things to and for her where no condoms were needed and when she was "finished"... . I'm thinking it would be my turn.  Nope.  She went to bed.

I didn't know what to do or say - so let it go.  But I was angry and fuming.  She controlled when we were intimate, how often, you get the drill.  And I didn't like that in the least bit.  Eventually I went to go break up with her - and she threatened to commit suicide.  That sucked me back in for a bit... . but not too long.  Then I finally started "dating" this other girl on the side - really nice young lady.  I think she would have probably been the first healthy relationship I was ever in.  But I went off to basic training... . got a little emotional - and asked my G/F to marry me.  I know... . big mistake.

I knew it was a mistake not too long afterwards, but didn't let her know at first.  I was still out of town so there wasn't a need.

Eventually I made my way back home, and told her I didn't want to get married.  Yay... . off the hook - right?  Nope.  we ended up in bed and later she claimed she was pregnant.  I got sucked in again.  But I didn't marry her.  The due date was just not computing.  I mean, I knew when I was home on leave and when it was possible she could have conceived with my child and the numbers were not adding up.

I asked for a blood test once the baby was born if I were going to continue to support her (I started sending support monies right away)... . she refused.  So I stopped and officialy broke up.  She then moves in with my mother - and why not?  She tells the whole family it is my child so this is my mothers first grandchild. 

This goes on for ten years until she had moved away to another state, filed for welfare, put me down as the father and claims she doesn't know where I am.  They eventually find me (not like I was hiding... . she had my home and work number so she coulda just had them call me)... . but the test came back saying I was no part of being his father.

To this day... . no apologies from her - no apologies from my mother for standing behind her and not her own son.  nothing.

So... . angry?  Yeah - just a bit.

And what my second relationship was like, my first marriage, was pure hell.  I think what this woman did to me afterwards was worse than what she did while we were together.  But the main difference is that she took out her vengeance on the children.  Luckily I was able to get custody of them and they lived with me until adults - but that is a different story.

And my third relationship was just about as bad as the second.  In the end ... . pure hell. 

This is the one which eventually lead me here... . and rabbit hole my way back to my mother.

So... . angry?  Yeah - just a bit.

But I don't want to sit here hating them - or hating me - or being so angry that it ruins my day... . nor do I want to be so angry that it clouds my perception of loving and growing in a healthy manner.

I've pretended too long.  I put on masks to make it seem that I'm okay with the insanity going on around me - when I'm really not.  I realize now I turned too many times to drinking or work or projects to keep my mind busy from the uncontrollable chaos around me.  Well I don't wanna do that.  I don't want to find another way to better deal with my anger - I want to get it gone.

One step is to realize what the heck has just happened to me and why.

I was an abused child.  My mother abused me - and my father tried, but couldn't protect me.  No one protected me.

When is it going to be my turn to be protected?

[PrettyPlease]

I was an abused child.  My mother abused me - and my father tried, but couldn't protect me.  No one protected me.

Children need protection, and when they don't get it it's tragic.

I was also abused, although not in exactly the same way as you were. But like you, I learned ways of coping -- I buried my anger, I learned how to take evasive action, how to predict threats (real and imagined) and deal with them in a particular, conditioned, and eventually dysfunctional way.

When is it going to be my turn to be protected?

I've asked myself this question many times, and seeing it again, I can't let it go by.

Isn't the answer... . now?

And isn't the person doing the protecting... . you? (and me?)

And aren't you (and I) already doing this... . by coming to this site? By getting therapy? By learning how to recognize the patterns of our FOO? By becoming aware of reality-based red flags, that tell us when to detour around what would otherwise turn out to be just another PD-relationship?

Keep on what you're doing, woods posse. I think it will help.