Does my mom have a personality disorder?

[Depression = 72% of members]

Hello! First-time poster! 

So I found this forum upon the advice of a therapist who gave me some suggested reading that dealt with growing up with a parent that has a possible personality disorder.

I'm not sure if she really does, but what I'm reading is starting to really shatter my view of her -- and it's really making me feel anxious.  

So I thought I'd ask here if these kinds of traits and reactions would seem familiar to you all as a hallmark of a personality disorder.

My mom and dad are still married and they are in their 60s. I am in my late 30s and am their only child.

I was born very early, but the doctors were never really able to confirm why. My mom could get pregnant, but she could not stay that way. She had many miscarriages.

As a result of being born early, I have a couple of health problems (I'm partially blind and have asthma). This restricted what I was able to do as far as extracurricular activities growing up.  My mom said that she had made grand plans for me before I was born -- I was going to be involved in all the things she never got to do. Sadly, my issue with my vision prevented nearly everything she wanted for me, from happening.

As best as I can remember, my needs as a child were met. My parents demonstrated a very happy, healthy relationship. Getting a good education was a big focus in the household, so my mom would often read to me or have me read to her when I was old enough. She did not try to pigeon-hole me into any sort of expectations. I'm female and I hated dresses and dolls. So she was happy to let me play in the dirt and play with robots and army men. So far, so good, right?

Around my pre-teen years is when things went to hell. Around the age of 11-12, I caught a chest cold. Not the first time, of course, but it wrung me out for a couple of days. She kept me home from school but I never got better.  Instead, I got worse. I wasn't able to breathe fully, and it gradually kept getting less and less, to where I barely had any energy to even get dressed or eat breakfast in the morning.  I kept trying to tell her I wasn't well, but in her mind, if I didn't have a fever or wasn't throwing up, off to school I went.  I trusted her unconditionally, but I really thought something was wrong with me.

I was taught that if you had a problem in school, you could go to your teacher about it. So I went to my teacher and told her I wasn't feeling well for some time now, and that I couldn't breathe. My teacher at the time was pregnant, so she made EVERYTHING about her and her baby.  "You don't feel well? Well *I* spent the whole morning puking my guts out because i'm pregnant!"

I didn't want to upset my teacher any more, so I kept quiet even thought things got worse. Finally, my mom got fed up with me doing poorly in school and missing so much that she took me to a doctor. He listened to my lungs and said I was only breathing at something like 8% of my lung capacity. You'd have thought that would be the moment my mom would've paid attention, but no... .we drove home from the doctor and got the rescue inhaler I needed, but she wanted to wait until we got home so she could read all the directions about it before giving it to me.

I remember distinctly fading in and out of consciousness on the drive home. Taking that rescue inhaler was like the very heavens parted and the angels themselves were singing.  Ironically, I remember the radio playing the song "I can breathe again" after I took the medicine.  My dad, at the time, worked a lot of late shifts, so he knew I wasn't well, but he didn't know just how BAD things had gotten.

All through my teenage years, I was what you'd call a good kid. No drugs, no alcohol, no partying. I had a steady boyfriend and did well in school.  My mom would start to stir up drama -- like she'd insist my boyfriend was cheating on me, and she'd drive by his house in the evenings really slowly. Sometimes she'd invite me to come along, but I'd refuse.  She'd then yell at me that I was going to die an old maid.

She gets really petty about things. Like this past weekend, she invited us out for dinner at her house (they live about 15 minutes away). I said that I couldn't go because my husband was working (so no transportation). She got upset and said "fine, I'm not making dinner for you, then." I told her that I really didn't care, since I had no way to get to their house, I'd just cook something for myself.  She responded, "fine, then, I just won't cook for you all anymore at all then."

(I know she doesn't mean it, but she does that every time I decline an offer -- doesn't matter the reason). She calls me ungrateful.

She's really critical of me on stupid, asinine things. Like what I'm wearing (a t-shirt and jeans) or when was the last time I vacuumed the floor (yesterday, mom).  This weekend we're having a family dinner at our house, and I'm making a chocolate cake. I told her what was on the menu, and she acts like a kid about it, "ewww I don't like chocolate. Make lemon cake instead."

I should add that I've developed an exceptional sense of snark in response to her stupid comments. To the above I said, "you've got two choices for dessert. Eat it, or starve."

I could go on, but I've already given you a taste of how she is.  My dad and I both "joke" that she doesn't have an empathetic bone in her body. She laughs cause she knows its true.  Yet one of the things people always tell me is how lucky I am to have a mom that listens to my problems.  She listens to people's problems -- but not mine. So I don't even tell her because I know she'll criticize me.

So what do you think, fam, is she mental?

[crazycatlady]

Hello! First-time poster! 

So I found this forum upon the advice of a therapist who gave me some suggested reading that dealt with growing up with a parent that has a possible personality disorder.

I'm not sure if she really does, but what I'm reading is starting to really shatter my view of her -- and it's really making me feel anxious.  

So I thought I'd ask here if these kinds of traits and reactions would seem familiar to you all as a hallmark of a personality disorder.

My mom and dad are still married and they are in their 60s. I am in my late 30s and am their only child.

I was born very early, but the doctors were never really able to confirm why. My mom could get pregnant, but she could not stay that way. She had many miscarriages.

As a result of being born early, I have a couple of health problems (I'm partially blind and have asthma). This restricted what I was able to do as far as extracurricular activities growing up.  My mom said that she had made grand plans for me before I was born -- I was going to be involved in all the things she never got to do. Sadly, my issue with my vision prevented nearly everything she wanted for me, from happening.

As best as I can remember, my needs as a child were met. My parents demonstrated a very happy, healthy relationship. Getting a good education was a big focus in the household, so my mom would often read to me or have me read to her when I was old enough. She did not try to pigeon-hole me into any sort of expectations. I'm female and I hated dresses and dolls. So she was happy to let me play in the dirt and play with robots and army men. So far, so good, right?

Around my pre-teen years is when things went to hell. Around the age of 11-12, I caught a chest cold. Not the first time, of course, but it wrung me out for a couple of days. She kept me home from school but I never got better.  Instead, I got worse. I wasn't able to breathe fully, and it gradually kept getting less and less, to where I barely had any energy to even get dressed or eat breakfast in the morning.  I kept trying to tell her I wasn't well, but in her mind, if I didn't have a fever or wasn't throwing up, off to school I went.  I trusted her unconditionally, but I really thought something was wrong with me.

I was taught that if you had a problem in school, you could go to your teacher about it. So I went to my teacher and told her I wasn't feeling well for some time now, and that I couldn't breathe. My teacher at the time was pregnant, so she made EVERYTHING about her and her baby.  "You don't feel well? Well *I* spent the whole morning puking my guts out because i'm pregnant!"

I didn't want to upset my teacher any more, so I kept quiet even thought things got worse. Finally, my mom got fed up with me doing poorly in school and missing so much that she took me to a doctor. He listened to my lungs and said I was only breathing at something like 8% of my lung capacity. You'd have thought that would be the moment my mom would've paid attention, but no... .we drove home from the doctor and got the rescue inhaler I needed, but she wanted to wait until we got home so she could read all the directions about it before giving it to me.

I remember distinctly fading in and out of consciousness on the drive home. Taking that rescue inhaler was like the very heavens parted and the angels themselves were singing.  Ironically, I remember the radio playing the song "I can breathe again" after I took the medicine.  My dad, at the time, worked a lot of late shifts, so he knew I wasn't well, but he didn't know just how BAD things had gotten.

All through my teenage years, I was what you'd call a good kid. No drugs, no alcohol, no partying. I had a steady boyfriend and did well in school.  My mom would start to stir up drama -- like she'd insist my boyfriend was cheating on me, and she'd drive by his house in the evenings really slowly. Sometimes she'd invite me to come along, but I'd refuse.  She'd then yell at me that I was going to die an old maid.

She gets really petty about things. Like this past weekend, she invited us out for dinner at her house (they live about 15 minutes away). I said that I couldn't go because my husband was working (so no transportation). She got upset and said "fine, I'm not making dinner for you, then." I told her that I really didn't care, since I had no way to get to their house, I'd just cook something for myself.  She responded, "fine, then, I just won't cook for you all anymore at all then."

(I know she doesn't mean it, but she does that every time I decline an offer -- doesn't matter the reason). She calls me ungrateful.

She's really critical of me on stupid, asinine things. Like what I'm wearing (a t-shirt and jeans) or when was the last time I vacuumed the floor (yesterday, mom).  This weekend we're having a family dinner at our house, and I'm making a chocolate cake. I told her what was on the menu, and she acts like a kid about it, "ewww I don't like chocolate. Make lemon cake instead."

I should add that I've developed an exceptional sense of snark in response to her stupid comments. To the above I said, "you've got two choices for dessert. Eat it, or starve."

I could go on, but I've already given you a taste of how she is.  My dad and I both "joke" that she doesn't have an empathetic bone in her body. She laughs cause she knows its true.  Yet one of the things people always tell me is how lucky I am to have a mom that listens to my problems.  She listens to people's problems -- but not mine. So I don't even tell her because I know she'll criticize me.

So what do you think, fam, is she mental?

[Turkish]

What do I think? I think your mom sounds not so very nice.  Did she also enlist you as a counselor when you were a kid,  telling you personal things that made you uncomfortable?

We have the full DSM definition of BPD here: https://bpdfamily.com/content/borderline-personality-disorder

The inhaler incident sounds like it was scary. My mother did something similar once and almost put me into a coma due to me overheating.  Based upon that and the other stories you told,  it sounds like your mother may not see you as a seperate individual as such.

Do you think that she wants to make you dinner to be nice to you,  or more for herself so she can feel good? People with BPD typically don't take sarcasm well, but at least you stood up for yourself and asserted a boundary.

[Feeling Better]

Hello crazycatlady, I’ve asked myself the same question as you many times. I had always doubted that my mother had BPD or traits even, I just thought that she could be extremely mean at times and very judgmental about people never having a good word to say about anyone, whether they be friends, family or strangers! Her last attack at me and my values left me feeling deeply hurt that a mother could do such a thing to her own daughter.
 If my mother “thinks” that I have wronged her, instead of having an adult conversation about it, she plans how to “get her own back”, and she certainly knows how to deliver.

Getting to your question, I have discussed similar this week with my counsellor. She explained about BPD being a spectrum disorder, which I already knew, but she explained how even though some people are on the spectrum, they don’t necessarily exhibit all the same behaviour patterns, each one is an individual. What helps me to understand it better is to imagine a scale from 0-100. People with no traits would be zero and those most affected would be 100. Others fit in between depending on severity.

[ijustwantpeace]

My mother never listened to a word I said my whole life and I am in my 40s.

Never said any kind works either.

Was critical of everything I did.

And whenever it looked like I would move away it would trigger her BPD/NPD hard and she would manipulate the situation to her benefit.

Controlling, Criticizing, and just plain interfering with people's life in an unhealthy manner is a classic symptom of BPD people.

Telling you your boyfriend is cheating on you shows she is way to involved in your life.  That is your business, not hers.

At least your parents are married, and your Dad acts as an "anchor" for you.

My mom got divorced and now demands love and attention from us.  She will forcefully suck it out of your body if you don't give it to her.

She is almost 70 and we have these stupid talks about "respecting my no", or I want you out of my life forever.  I don't want you to come over and harass me.  She does not listen she does whatever she wants.


There are degrees of BPD and BPD traits.  If you she is not totally destroying your life, "ie. showing up univitied at your home, church, or job" then it is better to give them their emotional fix and move on.

I just have had enough toward my BPD.  I now see her and have the desire to yell her into tears until she hangs up or leaves.


They can't seem to process the words NO or Leave Me Alone.


Like I said see how much she is impacting your life and relationships and plan a strategy.

[crazycatlady]

You're absolutely right about BPD people not liking sarcasm! Fortunately, I speak it as a second language.

I think I've developed a very dry sense of humor because of her antics. She cooks dinner because she wants us all to tell her how good it is. She is a really good cook, I won't deny that!

She's really petty about things. Like she wanted to plan out my whole dinner menu for this weekend. My husband and I decided to make beef stew. She took it upon herself to explain to me over the phone exactly how to make it and what I'd need.

Like... .I know how to make it. It's beef stew not foie gras.

She thankfully didn't use me as a counselor when I was a kid, but she DID insert herself into everything I did, even as an adult.  For example, she was a parent helper at my elementary school. When I went to junior high, she signed up for the band boosters. Finally when I was in high school, she had to go back to work so she couldn't meddle in my life *as much*.

But that doesn't mean she didn't try!

Learning how to drive was a nightmare. I *begged* my dad to teach me instead, but he couldn't because of his work schedule.  Driving with my mother is downright traumatic, and I don't use that word lightly. I am a very careful driver, seeing as how I have limited vision (but still have a license). She will roar at me like the Tasmanian Devil - over every little thing. Too fast. Too slow. There's a stop light 15,000 miles ahead. It stresses me out to the point where I refuse to go anywhere with her.

As an adult, my husband and I won a trip once to anywhere in the continental U.S. We chose to go to the Grand Canyon. Guess who decided to come along (she paid her own way, but still).
 
My therapist said it's a miracle I turned out as well-adjusted as I did. I have my dad to thank for that. He's a voice of calm in the midst of her belligerence.