The Adult Years After Childhood Abuse from BPD Mom

[Depression = 72% of members]

I haven't had regular contact with my BPD mother in over a year. I have ignored her since. I've done good just forgetting that I don't have a mom. I mean, growing up, I felt alone anyways, imprisoned to my room, where I would hide away and cry myself to sleep. She made me who she wanted me to be. I was never able to be myself. I am myself now, but I don't have it together yet.

I've forgotten her, but it seems I'm constantly haunted by what a ___ty childhood/adolescence I had because of the men I meet. They all use me, emotionally. I'm not the kind of woman to put-out, so they hook me in emotionally, suck me dry, and leave me to wither  and die.

I think that's the devastating part of having a parent with BPD. They steal the life from you growing up. I didn't have a childhood. I didn't get to be a teenager. I was a robot, a carbon copy, and I was controlled. I was miserable.

Here I am today, and it seems I can't break free. I meet repeats of my mother who make me think they're good, I open up, I want to get closer, and they drop me like I am not worth a penny. Scabs get ripped off old wounds and I question what is so unlovable about me that I can't seem to shake? Why do so many men treat me like dirt?

Deep down, I know it's my past. Until you've had a BPD parent, you cannot know the empty feeling they create in your soul, the sad child that lies within, or the agony we face on an almost daily basis.

But, at the same time, I fear that I am forever broken and I will never find a good loving soul like myself.

I just try to immerse myself in my profession and forget the feelings of never finding someone because of a life I didn't choose.

[misssouthernbelle]

I haven't had regular contact with my BPD mother in over a year. I have ignored her since. I've done good just forgetting that I don't have a mom. I mean, growing up, I felt alone anyways, imprisoned to my room, where I would hide away and cry myself to sleep. She made me who she wanted me to be. I was never able to be myself. I am myself now, but I don't have it together yet.

I've forgotten her, but it seems I'm constantly haunted by what a ___ty childhood/adolescence I had because of the men I meet. They all use me, emotionally. I'm not the kind of woman to put-out, so they hook me in emotionally, suck me dry, and leave me to wither  and die.

I think that's the devastating part of having a parent with BPD. They steal the life from you growing up. I didn't have a childhood. I didn't get to be a teenager. I was a robot, a carbon copy, and I was controlled. I was miserable.

Here I am today, and it seems I can't break free. I meet repeats of my mother who make me think they're good, I open up, I want to get closer, and they drop me like I am not worth a penny. Scabs get ripped off old wounds and I question what is so unlovable about me that I can't seem to shake? Why do so many men treat me like dirt?

Deep down, I know it's my past. Until you've had a BPD parent, you cannot know the empty feeling they create in your soul, the sad child that lies within, or the agony we face on an almost daily basis.

But, at the same time, I fear that I am forever broken and I will never find a good loving soul like myself.

I just try to immerse myself in my profession and forget the feelings of never finding someone because of a life I didn't choose.

[Turkish]

Hi msb,

I'm glad you've joined us to talk about your mother. Falling into a pattern in relationships certainly can be a result of growing up with a PD'd parent. Coming here is a good first step. 

I was attracted to a certain type of person for years, and they to me, the latter because my boundaries were based up my childhood as a template. "We don't know what we don't know." Many of us wish for a parent we never had. It can be a sadness that bleeds through there aspects of our lives. It's impossible, however, to fix an issue we have with one person with an entirely different person. I did t with my Ex in a way, and she tried to do it with me with respect to her father.

Unfortunately, we can't change or control others. Our own power lies within us, and stops there as well. If we were abused, we often forget that because we may know nothing else.

My mom rescued me in part for me, but also in part for her. I grew up with that dynamic, being split constantly so much that I became confused as to what love really was. Some members here had it worse: being split black 100%.

If you look at the Survivor's Guide to the right, where would you say you are?

Turkish