Story of Daughter of uBPD Mother - Deciding Whether to Continue with NC

[Depression = 72% of members]

I'm so glad to find this community!  It's helped immensely just to read others' stories and find peace knowing I'm not the only one and I'm not crazy.

Here's my story:

I'm the adult daughter of a mother who exhibits most of the symptoms of BPD but who is yet undiagnosed.  I'm the oldest of two children.  I have a younger brother who is a lot like my mother and a father who is essentially useless (my therapist described him as a "wuss".  

It wasn't until last year, maybe a month before getting married, that I learned about BPD and had an "ah ha!" moment about my mother's behavior.  I read Christine Ann Lawson's "Understanding the Borderline Mother" in one evening, reading until dawn, because I couldn't believe there was a name for what I experienced from my mother for my entire life.  I felt incredible freedom and hopeful that I wasn't the crazy one as my family had tried to convince me I was.

A summary of my family's social situation during childhood:

-We lived in the state where my mother grew up.  My parents "got saved" (Pentecostal denomination) when I was around four years old.  For whatever reason, my father's family didn't like that and so we had no contact whatsoever with them after that (his parents died before I was born).  My mother had a falling out with her entire family, and thus we didn't have any contact with them, either.  

-My mother decided to home-school me in second grade because my parents, as new Christians, felt that Halloween activities at school were evil and so they made my teacher remove me from those group activities and ended up pulling me out mid-way through the year.  I was home-schooled in third grade, developed an auto-immune disorder (AIH) the next year, was enrolled in public school for half of fourth grade but pulled out again because of the AIH and because my parents were building a house (in the middle of the winter, with no extra cash, with a dog, and so we had to live in a run-down, one-bedroom camp that made both of my parents extremely angry), enrolled in Christian school (which I loved) in 5th grade, home-schooled again in 6th (because there was no money left for private school), public again for half of 7th (which my mother would blame on me wanting to leave--I was shy and didn't know anyone and had a hard time with my self-identity), home-schooled for eighth, 9th-12th in a very strange, very small Christian school in the basement of our church (different from the church we started in because my mother developed distaste for the women there).  Whew!  

-Church was very important to me growing up because I literally had no one else outside of my family to engage with.  I loved my church and the people there.  I made friends with other girls (most were in public school) and their families.  However, over time, my mother would dissolve her friendships with my friends' mothers due to some perceived slight, e.g., "she looks at me funny", or "she is judging me because of hit_ comment" (which comment usually, to the objective outsider, would have no negative meaning), etc.  As a result, we had to leave the church.

-My mother stayed home to raise us because of a daycare scare.  She has a two-year degree and had a job as a nutritionist.  My father doesn't make a lot of money, so they were always pinching pennies.  Eventually, she had to go back because there just wasn't enough.  It's not an exaggeration to say that she has gone through more jobs than I can possible recount here.  It's staggering.  She would always come home and complain about someone judging her, or saying something that wouldn't seem to us to be mean or negative, or looking at her in a strange manner, etc.  In any case, she was always the victim, and she always ended up leaving, mostly after venting for hours and hours about it to me.  The same trend applies to her relationship with animals.  My mother has also had (no exaggeration), more dogs than I can count.  An estimate?: around 17.  She always finds some flaw in them that ruins them in her opinion.  A few times, she wound up with dogs that didn't want to be overly affectionate.  In those cases, she complained that they weren't "cuddly" enough, spent time cultivating that in them, and, unbelievable, when they finally wanted her attention, she would rage at them and sometimes kick them because, she would say, they "were underfoot" or wanted "too much attention".  I always felt sorry for those dogs.

-My parents' relationship has always been extremely volatile.  They dated for five years and only married when they became pregnant with me.  In fact, after a particularly bad fight where my father left the house right after Christmas when I was about six, my mother, as we took down the ornaments from the tree, told me in a cold tone, "If it weren't for you, I never would have married your father."  That always stayed with me.  My parents fought viciously (though usually verbally and not physically) and continuously throughout my childhood.  These fights would always include screaming (both parents) as loudly as possible (the neighbors called the police at least once); swearing and cursing at each other and generally throwing out the most hurtful names and accusations as if it were a contest to wound the other as deeply as possible with words; throwing things (breaking plates and on one occasion I remember well, throwing a 2-liter bottle of soda so hard that it exploded all over the kitchen); and engaging in other violent physical acts (I'll never forget sitting in the family car one afternoon, probably eight or ten years old, my little brother beside me, while my mother jumped out of the car and my father tried to run her over--he actually drove on to the sidewalk).  As I grew older, I ended up engaging in violent acts with my mother.  If she started yelling at me and berating me, I would feel an overwhelming urge to "make" her stop.  I knew that there was no talking her through it and that I would never be able to use logic or reason to make her stop verbally attacking me.  It felt strange to me even then because I never felt violent toward anyone else.  But once she started, I felt willing to do almost anything to make her stop.  For example, in 8th grade, while being home-schooled, I had no contact with anyone outside of my family because my parents had stopped going to our church and had no contact with their families.  AOL was fairly new and I had discovered AOL Instant Messenger.  I felt like that gave me a connection to the outside world and I made friends (or thought that I had) with other kids.  I told my mother about it and I think she knew how important it was to me.  One morning I came down to start my school work and she was in another of her moods.  I had no idea why or what I had done.  She left a note for me on the computer which, although I can't remember exactly what it said, conveyed that I was stupid or a loser for having online friends and weird.  I remember feeling so angry and so shamed.  She came back into the room and I confronted her about it.  She flew into a rage and began berating me.  I had this moment where I just needed her to stop.  I picked up a pair of scissors lying on the counter and chased her from the house with them.  I locked the door behind her.  But she had grabbed the cordless phone and called the police.  I was arrested, at 12 years old, still in my pajamas.  I'll never forget how that felt.  I was so ashamed.  I still feel shame from that.  When my brother came home from school (she didn't try to home-school him), he wasn't told.  They never really talked about it again.  I remember telling my spouse before our wedding and feeling so afraid, even so many years later, that he wouldn't love me anymore.  I think I really started to hate her then.

-My father is useless.  He never protected me or my brother from my mother's rage.  In fact, he would just make it worse by fighting with her and then take off in the car for hours (sometimes the night).  In my adult years, he has almost become her echo.  He will always defend her and say that there's nothing he can do about it.  Last year, I tried to connect with him and was sort of desperate to have someone validate my feelings and experience.  That totally backfired (more about that below under "most recent events".

-My brother only validates my mother.  He was a very difficult child where I was totally obedient and afraid, always, to get into trouble or to mess up.  He didn't do homework.  He failed classes.  I made straight As and finished first in my law school class.  However, as soon as I started college and detached myself from my mother (stopped listening to her complain about my father, her job(s), and other people, generally), she turned to my brother and made him her confidante.  Ever since, he has become more and more enmeshed and, on one occasion, said he cannot turn her away or ask her to stop because he's "all she has" and might kill herself (actually go through with it, she's attempted many times) if he stops.  

My current situation:

-I'm currently not in contact with my parents or my brother.  They didn't attend my wedding.  I just had my first child and they haven't seen him.  I'm terrified even thinking about letting them see him and probably won't ever allow it.  My husband and son are so precious to me and I feel so proud of independent and strong I've become that I don't want to let in to endanger that at all.  But honestly, if it weren't for the most recent events, recounted below, I probably would have let them come to the wedding and would still be in contact with them.  Basically, they never stop.  It never gets better.

Most recent events:

-Law School Graduation: Mother's Day (possible worst day of the year? anyone else feel this way?) was just the worst ever last year.  I went home to see my mother and cook her breakfast.  I could tell immediately that the black clouds were rolling in.  For what reason?  God only knows.  I was preparing to leave as soon as possible, but she wanted to spend more time together and go to the beach with her new dog.  My dad went outside and she started complaining that he didn't make the coffee that morning--and by complaining, I mean making it sound like he was the worst person on the planet for not making coffee--like he hated her and that was how he was showing it.  I tried to remain neutral but I could tell that was pissing her off even more.  We left for the beach and stopped to get coffee on the way.  My mom stayed in the car and I went in with my dad.  For some reason, I felt this urge to try to bond with him, so I told him "Michael (my fiance) thinks there's a special place in Heaven for you for taking so much from mom".  He looked at me like it really meant something to him.  In these later years, he's made a concerted effort (or just given up?) not to engage her--just to let her rage at him without raging back.  I thought it might lead to us being able to commiserate and validate each other.  I was so wrong (more on why coming up).  We got to the beach with this dog my mother had just adopted.  She wanted to let it off the leash to play in the water.  My father and I bot advised her not to.  Actually, it's more like we both begged her not to.  None of us knew how he would act around other dogs. Well, shocker, she didn't listen and she let him off the leash.  He ended up trying to attack another dog.  She got him back on the leash and proceeded to feel incredibly sorry for herself, cry, and generally dissolve into an emotional disaster.  I left as soon as we got home, but that wasn't the end.  I got a call from my father later that night.  He said they had a huge fight.  My mother threw the flowers he gave her at the car and the vase broke into a million pieces.  She told him, "every night on your way home from work, I wish that you would die."  When he told me that I broke down and can remember sobbing on the floor of my apartment.  He then told me what he had done--once she started raging at him, he used what I gave him in the coffee shop.  He told her that I said my fiance thinks "there's a special place in Heaven for you."  That, he told me, made her angry at him, but also turned her rage against me.  She was incredibly angry that I had shared anything with my fiance (she has always been more concerned with others' perception of her than of her family's perception of her).  This all happened about one week before my graduation from law school.  After that phone call, I called my brother to see if he knew more.  I was immediately afraid that she would kill herself since she's threatened that in the past.  He said she had threatened that.  She had called him.  He was crying and scared and said he couldn't take the anxiety any longer.  I tried to make him feel better.  Both he and my dad told me that night to never tell them anything that they can't tell my mother--like what my fiance said--because they would never be able to keep anything from her.  I think I finally started to realize just how much power my mother had (well, has) over them at that moment.

They came to my graduation.  We hadn't spoken since the fight.  I had no idea how to feel.  They didn't even try to reach me.  I thought, for a second, that since this was such a huge accomplishment for me, they would suck it up and try to be nice.  Well, they didn't.  After the ceremony, the approached me with hesitation--like they were waiting for ME to make the first apology!  I couldn't believe it and decided I had had enough.  So I remained removed and didn't move to hug anyone.  Well, that triggered crying in my mother and anger from my father.  After standing awkwardly for five or so minutes, while I refused to hug them, my mother made the first move to leave by saying "well, we can't leave the dog for long" (again, cares more for her stupid animals that she only keeps for two seconds than for her daughter) and I replied with something sarcastic about the dog.  My father took that opportunity to march up to me and nastily say, "have a nice life" and continue marching off the their car.  My mother followed, crying and feeling sorry for herself.  So there I was.  First in my freaking class and no celebratory dinner.  No hugs.  Nothing.  Just my father telling me to have a nice life and leaving in a rage.  I couldn't believe it.  

But I still wanted to try again.  Bridal shower and wedding story (basically, the reasons why I went no-contact) to be posted soon.

Thanks for reading!  Please post if you've had similar experiences!  I'm new to this and would love to hear.

[mjsheets]

I'm so glad to find this community!  It's helped immensely just to read others' stories and find peace knowing I'm not the only one and I'm not crazy.

Here's my story:

I'm the adult daughter of a mother who exhibits most of the symptoms of BPD but who is yet undiagnosed.  I'm the oldest of two children.  I have a younger brother who is a lot like my mother and a father who is essentially useless (my therapist described him as a "wuss".  

It wasn't until last year, maybe a month before getting married, that I learned about BPD and had an "ah ha!" moment about my mother's behavior.  I read Christine Ann Lawson's "Understanding the Borderline Mother" in one evening, reading until dawn, because I couldn't believe there was a name for what I experienced from my mother for my entire life.  I felt incredible freedom and hopeful that I wasn't the crazy one as my family had tried to convince me I was.

A summary of my family's social situation during childhood:

-We lived in the state where my mother grew up.  My parents "got saved" (Pentecostal denomination) when I was around four years old.  For whatever reason, my father's family didn't like that and so we had no contact whatsoever with them after that (his parents died before I was born).  My mother had a falling out with her entire family, and thus we didn't have any contact with them, either.  

-My mother decided to home-school me in second grade because my parents, as new Christians, felt that Halloween activities at school were evil and so they made my teacher remove me from those group activities and ended up pulling me out mid-way through the year.  I was home-schooled in third grade, developed an auto-immune disorder (AIH) the next year, was enrolled in public school for half of fourth grade but pulled out again because of the AIH and because my parents were building a house (in the middle of the winter, with no extra cash, with a dog, and so we had to live in a run-down, one-bedroom camp that made both of my parents extremely angry), enrolled in Christian school (which I loved) in 5th grade, home-schooled again in 6th (because there was no money left for private school), public again for half of 7th (which my mother would blame on me wanting to leave--I was shy and didn't know anyone and had a hard time with my self-identity), home-schooled for eighth, 9th-12th in a very strange, very small Christian school in the basement of our church (different from the church we started in because my mother developed distaste for the women there).  Whew!  

-Church was very important to me growing up because I literally had no one else outside of my family to engage with.  I loved my church and the people there.  I made friends with other girls (most were in public school) and their families.  However, over time, my mother would dissolve her friendships with my friends' mothers due to some perceived slight, e.g., "she looks at me funny", or "she is judging me because of hit_ comment" (which comment usually, to the objective outsider, would have no negative meaning), etc.  As a result, we had to leave the church.

-My mother stayed home to raise us because of a daycare scare.  She has a two-year degree and had a job as a nutritionist.  My father doesn't make a lot of money, so they were always pinching pennies.  Eventually, she had to go back because there just wasn't enough.  It's not an exaggeration to say that she has gone through more jobs than I can possible recount here.  It's staggering.  She would always come home and complain about someone judging her, or saying something that wouldn't seem to us to be mean or negative, or looking at her in a strange manner, etc.  In any case, she was always the victim, and she always ended up leaving, mostly after venting for hours and hours about it to me.  The same trend applies to her relationship with animals.  My mother has also had (no exaggeration), more dogs than I can count.  An estimate?: around 17.  She always finds some flaw in them that ruins them in her opinion.  A few times, she wound up with dogs that didn't want to be overly affectionate.  In those cases, she complained that they weren't "cuddly" enough, spent time cultivating that in them, and, unbelievable, when they finally wanted her attention, she would rage at them and sometimes kick them because, she would say, they "were underfoot" or wanted "too much attention".  I always felt sorry for those dogs.

-My parents' relationship has always been extremely volatile.  They dated for five years and only married when they became pregnant with me.  In fact, after a particularly bad fight where my father left the house right after Christmas when I was about six, my mother, as we took down the ornaments from the tree, told me in a cold tone, "If it weren't for you, I never would have married your father."  That always stayed with me.  My parents fought viciously (though usually verbally and not physically) and continuously throughout my childhood.  These fights would always include screaming (both parents) as loudly as possible (the neighbors called the police at least once); swearing and cursing at each other and generally throwing out the most hurtful names and accusations as if it were a contest to wound the other as deeply as possible with words; throwing things (breaking plates and on one occasion I remember well, throwing a 2-liter bottle of soda so hard that it exploded all over the kitchen); and engaging in other violent physical acts (I'll never forget sitting in the family car one afternoon, probably eight or ten years old, my little brother beside me, while my mother jumped out of the car and my father tried to run her over--he actually drove on to the sidewalk).  As I grew older, I ended up engaging in violent acts with my mother.  If she started yelling at me and berating me, I would feel an overwhelming urge to "make" her stop.  I knew that there was no talking her through it and that I would never be able to use logic or reason to make her stop verbally attacking me.  It felt strange to me even then because I never felt violent toward anyone else.  But once she started, I felt willing to do almost anything to make her stop.  For example, in 8th grade, while being home-schooled, I had no contact with anyone outside of my family because my parents had stopped going to our church and had no contact with their families.  AOL was fairly new and I had discovered AOL Instant Messenger.  I felt like that gave me a connection to the outside world and I made friends (or thought that I had) with other kids.  I told my mother about it and I think she knew how important it was to me.  One morning I came down to start my school work and she was in another of her moods.  I had no idea why or what I had done.  She left a note for me on the computer which, although I can't remember exactly what it said, conveyed that I was stupid or a loser for having online friends and weird.  I remember feeling so angry and so shamed.  She came back into the room and I confronted her about it.  She flew into a rage and began berating me.  I had this moment where I just needed her to stop.  I picked up a pair of scissors lying on the counter and chased her from the house with them.  I locked the door behind her.  But she had grabbed the cordless phone and called the police.  I was arrested, at 12 years old, still in my pajamas.  I'll never forget how that felt.  I was so ashamed.  I still feel shame from that.  When my brother came home from school (she didn't try to home-school him), he wasn't told.  They never really talked about it again.  I remember telling my spouse before our wedding and feeling so afraid, even so many years later, that he wouldn't love me anymore.  I think I really started to hate her then.

-My father is useless.  He never protected me or my brother from my mother's rage.  In fact, he would just make it worse by fighting with her and then take off in the car for hours (sometimes the night).  In my adult years, he has almost become her echo.  He will always defend her and say that there's nothing he can do about it.  Last year, I tried to connect with him and was sort of desperate to have someone validate my feelings and experience.  That totally backfired (more about that below under "most recent events".

-My brother only validates my mother.  He was a very difficult child where I was totally obedient and afraid, always, to get into trouble or to mess up.  He didn't do homework.  He failed classes.  I made straight As and finished first in my law school class.  However, as soon as I started college and detached myself from my mother (stopped listening to her complain about my father, her job(s), and other people, generally), she turned to my brother and made him her confidante.  Ever since, he has become more and more enmeshed and, on one occasion, said he cannot turn her away or ask her to stop because he's "all she has" and might kill herself (actually go through with it, she's attempted many times) if he stops.  

My current situation:

-I'm currently not in contact with my parents or my brother.  They didn't attend my wedding.  I just had my first child and they haven't seen him.  I'm terrified even thinking about letting them see him and probably won't ever allow it.  My husband and son are so precious to me and I feel so proud of independent and strong I've become that I don't want to let in to endanger that at all.  But honestly, if it weren't for the most recent events, recounted below, I probably would have let them come to the wedding and would still be in contact with them.  Basically, they never stop.  It never gets better.

Most recent events:

-Law School Graduation: Mother's Day (possible worst day of the year? anyone else feel this way?) was just the worst ever last year.  I went home to see my mother and cook her breakfast.  I could tell immediately that the black clouds were rolling in.  For what reason?  God only knows.  I was preparing to leave as soon as possible, but she wanted to spend more time together and go to the beach with her new dog.  My dad went outside and she started complaining that he didn't make the coffee that morning--and by complaining, I mean making it sound like he was the worst person on the planet for not making coffee--like he hated her and that was how he was showing it.  I tried to remain neutral but I could tell that was pissing her off even more.  We left for the beach and stopped to get coffee on the way.  My mom stayed in the car and I went in with my dad.  For some reason, I felt this urge to try to bond with him, so I told him "Michael (my fiance) thinks there's a special place in Heaven for you for taking so much from mom".  He looked at me like it really meant something to him.  In these later years, he's made a concerted effort (or just given up?) not to engage her--just to let her rage at him without raging back.  I thought it might lead to us being able to commiserate and validate each other.  I was so wrong (more on why coming up).  We got to the beach with this dog my mother had just adopted.  She wanted to let it off the leash to play in the water.  My father and I bot advised her not to.  Actually, it's more like we both begged her not to.  None of us knew how he would act around other dogs. Well, shocker, she didn't listen and she let him off the leash.  He ended up trying to attack another dog.  She got him back on the leash and proceeded to feel incredibly sorry for herself, cry, and generally dissolve into an emotional disaster.  I left as soon as we got home, but that wasn't the end.  I got a call from my father later that night.  He said they had a huge fight.  My mother threw the flowers he gave her at the car and the vase broke into a million pieces.  She told him, "every night on your way home from work, I wish that you would die."  When he told me that I broke down and can remember sobbing on the floor of my apartment.  He then told me what he had done--once she started raging at him, he used what I gave him in the coffee shop.  He told her that I said my fiance thinks "there's a special place in Heaven for you."  That, he told me, made her angry at him, but also turned her rage against me.  She was incredibly angry that I had shared anything with my fiance (she has always been more concerned with others' perception of her than of her family's perception of her).  This all happened about one week before my graduation from law school.  After that phone call, I called my brother to see if he knew more.  I was immediately afraid that she would kill herself since she's threatened that in the past.  He said she had threatened that.  She had called him.  He was crying and scared and said he couldn't take the anxiety any longer.  I tried to make him feel better.  Both he and my dad told me that night to never tell them anything that they can't tell my mother--like what my fiance said--because they would never be able to keep anything from her.  I think I finally started to realize just how much power my mother had (well, has) over them at that moment.

They came to my graduation.  We hadn't spoken since the fight.  I had no idea how to feel.  They didn't even try to reach me.  I thought, for a second, that since this was such a huge accomplishment for me, they would suck it up and try to be nice.  Well, they didn't.  After the ceremony, the approached me with hesitation--like they were waiting for ME to make the first apology!  I couldn't believe it and decided I had had enough.  So I remained removed and didn't move to hug anyone.  Well, that triggered crying in my mother and anger from my father.  After standing awkwardly for five or so minutes, while I refused to hug them, my mother made the first move to leave by saying "well, we can't leave the dog for long" (again, cares more for her stupid animals that she only keeps for two seconds than for her daughter) and I replied with something sarcastic about the dog.  My father took that opportunity to march up to me and nastily say, "have a nice life" and continue marching off the their car.  My mother followed, crying and feeling sorry for herself.  So there I was.  First in my freaking class and no celebratory dinner.  No hugs.  Nothing.  Just my father telling me to have a nice life and leaving in a rage.  I couldn't believe it.  

But I still wanted to try again.  Bridal shower and wedding story (basically, the reasons why I went no-contact) to be posted soon.

Thanks for reading!  Please post if you've had similar experiences!  I'm new to this and would love to hear.

[doubleAries]

yep, yep, yep--all sounds familiar.

Your mom sounds kind of like a "hermit" type. My mom was/is a "witch" type. Most of her rage was directed at my brothers and I, in the form of beatings and what we called "interrogations" (hours and hours of psychological torture followed by, of course, beatings). My mom converted to Fundamentalist Baptist when I was about 5. She liked the idea of home schooling but not the idea of having to be around her filthy selfish greedy pig kids all day, so we weren't home schooled. But we did spend many, many hours on our knees in front of the couch doing "devotions"--begging forgiveness for our massive catalog of "sins".

I was thrown out of the house at 15 to make my way through life on my own. But even after I "left" home, her abuse didn't end--it escalated. Physical abuse wasn't viable anymore, so she began her campaign of manipulation and denigration, which consumed a great deal of my time to defend myself from. Finally, at about age 25, I cut off all contact with her via a rather dramatic 15 or so page letter where I finally said all the angry things I'd always wanted to say but was terrified to say. Threw in an IRS threat for good measure, as insurance against future contact.

I haven't had contact with her for over 22 years now. My brothers have various degrees of contact with her. This has not stopped her rage campaigns--in fact, just last week, she told my older brother (when he asked for some childhood family photos) that I stole all the photos of him and did something with them. Apparently she forgot that last year she claimed that my youngest brother and stepdad burned all the family photos when they kicked her out of the house (what actually happened is she dumped my stepdad unceremoniously--after 23 years of marriage--for a drunk 20 years her junior. The photos? I have no idea. I assume she's holding them hostage).

NC is not a black/white decision. It's doesn't have to be forever. Sometimes it's a good idea temporarily, so you can get your feet back under you. If you want to continue a relationship with your parents/family/mother, maybe it's a good idea to have temporary NC so you can learn how to establish and enforce boundaries.

Often, the first mistake those of us who grow up learning extremely poor boundaries make when we try to exercise healthy ones is to think (and therefore act like)  boundaries are to "make" this other person behave in what we see as a more appropriate way. But boundaries are to protect yourself, not change anyone else's behavior. It takes a little bit of practice to get this down. And temporary NC may help during that initial practice phase.

There are a lot of great articles and workshops on this website and others about values and the boundaries we erect to protect those values. It's never too late to learn!