My childhood hero serves the Queen

[Depression = 72% of members]

I have been NC with my BPDm and enDad for almost three years.  I have changed my phone # and address, but I kept my email account as a last line of contact.  I guess I had kept some hope that my enDad might see the truth.  He used this email address about a month ago to send a sappy note that he had seen me driving on the road and it moved him to tears.  It wasn't me he saw, but I suppose that's irrelevant.  I had sent him a letter a year and a half prior to explain why I had chosen to go NC. I had gotten no reply of substance.  So, feeling conflicted, I wrote back explaining that he had not replied to what was essentially my truth and until he did, sappy notes are pretty inappropriate.  He responded that he had never read my letter.  I wrote him a new one a few weeks ago. In it, I explained  BPD and my belief that it was the answer to a 33 year old question: "what the hell is wrong with Mom?"  I recommended a few books and told him I have no interest in reconciliation until he gets her some help.  He wrote back and revealed that although he had steadfastly refuted any hint of mental illness in his wife for the last 30 odd years, the truth was she has PTSD, ADHD, and depression.  She's been taking a constantly changing buffet of psychiatric drugs for the better part of the last 20 years.  None of this, he explained, was thought to be any of my business.  What he doesn't know, is that my BPDm has been discussing her psychological issues with me since I was a precocious 8 year old "golden child".  She confided in me sometime in the late 90's that her new therapist (whose name I do remember) suggested that she had "borderline personality disorder" and asked if I knew what that was and if I thought she had it.  I had only had 2 years of psych classes at this point and had not yet heard of BPD.  I said, "borderline to what? Don't you either have something or not?"  She needed mirroring that this evil therapist was a quack, and I supplied it.

  "Well, she thinks everybody is crazy! I'm not going back to her!"

It was a missed opportunity to derail the crazy train.  I wasn't aware enough yet to exploit it. 

EnDads response to my letter was dismissive and authoritarian.  The PTSD diagnosis is bull___.    She found a psychiatrist that wants to give her pills for everything.  That's not to hard to arrange these days.  All of the points I raised were either dismissed or ignored.  A few weeks passed and then they found an opening to reach me.  An old friend of the family was back in town.  A well respected minister of our former church and his wife.  They had expressed an interest in seeing me again, so I arranged to meet them for lunch.  A pleasant meal turned into a two hour interrogation.  I was not prepared to see one of my childhood heroes turn into what seemed like the captain of the flying monkeys.  He fired one question after another, each one intrusive and pointed.  It began to take shape that he was leading the questions toward a blanket invalidation.  I switched tack and started grilling him back.  I used words from his own sermons and even laid out a few choice stories of my youth.  By the last bite of my overpriced bacon cheeseburger, I was furious.  His endgame points were basically that no matter what was done to me in the past, It was God's will that I reconcile with my parents and I needed to forgive them.  He then asked his wife if she had any thoughts.  She told me I needed to give them hope.  "Perhaps, send her some flowers.", she suggested.  "Tell her you want to reconcile and you're working on it."  The former minister's last "suggestion" was to tell me "no more writing."  I had mentioned that I write a blog and have had a few articles published on psychology today as well as GoodTherapy.org . 

"No more writing."

Now I just feel like writing a book.

That turns into a movie.

In which he shall be played by an actor everyone loves to hate.

That gets hit by a bus.

Ugh.

One of my old childhood heroes died on Saturday while I ate a bacon cheeseburger.  He serves the Queen, as he always must have.  That just sucks.

[Cheshire]

I have been NC with my BPDm and enDad for almost three years.  I have changed my phone # and address, but I kept my email account as a last line of contact.  I guess I had kept some hope that my enDad might see the truth.  He used this email address about a month ago to send a sappy note that he had seen me driving on the road and it moved him to tears.  It wasn't me he saw, but I suppose that's irrelevant.  I had sent him a letter a year and a half prior to explain why I had chosen to go NC. I had gotten no reply of substance.  So, feeling conflicted, I wrote back explaining that he had not replied to what was essentially my truth and until he did, sappy notes are pretty inappropriate.  He responded that he had never read my letter.  I wrote him a new one a few weeks ago. In it, I explained  BPD and my belief that it was the answer to a 33 year old question: "what the hell is wrong with Mom?"  I recommended a few books and told him I have no interest in reconciliation until he gets her some help.  He wrote back and revealed that although he had steadfastly refuted any hint of mental illness in his wife for the last 30 odd years, the truth was she has PTSD, ADHD, and depression.  She's been taking a constantly changing buffet of psychiatric drugs for the better part of the last 20 years.  None of this, he explained, was thought to be any of my business.  What he doesn't know, is that my BPDm has been discussing her psychological issues with me since I was a precocious 8 year old "golden child".  She confided in me sometime in the late 90's that her new therapist (whose name I do remember) suggested that she had "borderline personality disorder" and asked if I knew what that was and if I thought she had it.  I had only had 2 years of psych classes at this point and had not yet heard of BPD.  I said, "borderline to what? Don't you either have something or not?"  She needed mirroring that this evil therapist was a quack, and I supplied it.

  "Well, she thinks everybody is crazy! I'm not going back to her!"

It was a missed opportunity to derail the crazy train.  I wasn't aware enough yet to exploit it. 

EnDads response to my letter was dismissive and authoritarian.  The PTSD diagnosis is bull___.    She found a psychiatrist that wants to give her pills for everything.  That's not to hard to arrange these days.  All of the points I raised were either dismissed or ignored.  A few weeks passed and then they found an opening to reach me.  An old friend of the family was back in town.  A well respected minister of our former church and his wife.  They had expressed an interest in seeing me again, so I arranged to meet them for lunch.  A pleasant meal turned into a two hour interrogation.  I was not prepared to see one of my childhood heroes turn into what seemed like the captain of the flying monkeys.  He fired one question after another, each one intrusive and pointed.  It began to take shape that he was leading the questions toward a blanket invalidation.  I switched tack and started grilling him back.  I used words from his own sermons and even laid out a few choice stories of my youth.  By the last bite of my overpriced bacon cheeseburger, I was furious.  His endgame points were basically that no matter what was done to me in the past, It was God's will that I reconcile with my parents and I needed to forgive them.  He then asked his wife if she had any thoughts.  She told me I needed to give them hope.  "Perhaps, send her some flowers.", she suggested.  "Tell her you want to reconcile and you're working on it."  The former minister's last "suggestion" was to tell me "no more writing."  I had mentioned that I write a blog and have had a few articles published on psychology today as well as GoodTherapy.org . 

"No more writing."

Now I just feel like writing a book.

That turns into a movie.

In which he shall be played by an actor everyone loves to hate.

That gets hit by a bus.

Ugh.

One of my old childhood heroes died on Saturday while I ate a bacon cheeseburger.  He serves the Queen, as he always must have.  That just sucks.

[HappyChappy]

Sorry to hear your struggle. On a positive, you’re a good story teller.  So that’s handy if you want to write a novel. As my vicar told me, religion outdates BPD and not all vicars want to modernise their advice. So I guess you’ve got a traditional one, where it’s all about traditional family values. There are also reference in the Bible to people with negative child like behaviour (beware these people).

 

You say your childhood hero servers the Queen. Do you feel that you have forgiven your parents yet ? Would forgiveness maybe easy things ? Forgiveness does not mean to forget, or accept the behaviour of old. Wishing you the best. 

[PleaseValidate]

I relate very strongly w Snow White because of the whole wicked queen thing and that I'm the only one on her side of the family w dark hair.

A character everyone loves to hate huh? Well there is/was Geoffrey in Game of Thrones. Probably too young to qualify. And the queen served him.

Hope you don't find this cold. I'm just going w ur distraction theme.

But since I can't think of one, maybe you can write the story which has already been written?

[claudiaduffy]

It angers me to no end when pastors/priests cite forgiveness and reconciliation as a religious duty above all others. Fortunately, I've had pastors and other spiritual leaders who knew better and actually take cyclical emotional abuse and mental/personality disorders seriously, but GOLLY GEEZ PEOPLE. If you use your position of authority as a religious figure to promote continuing abuse, you are yourself committing spiritual abuse.

[gentlestguardian]

Absolutely infuriating! I've had similar conversations with longtime family friends, all of whom love to give all sorts of excuses for my BPDm's behavior. My question is why? What business is it of theirs what my relationship with my BPDm looks like? Why do they think they have the right to say anything to me? Because they're tired of hearing UPBm badmouthing me to them? Because they think they're qualified to make assumptions about me and my choices based on a one-sided broken record of a story? It makes me so angry!

[Cheshire]

Thanks for your responses, everyone.  I have found the Luke 17:3 ministries to be most helpful regarding the response to demands for forgiveness.  I could expound for days on how the church as a whole has failed children like us, but healing and moving on with life is much more important to me. I could have quoted scripture to him, but I decided against engaging in an unwinnable  skirmish on his territory.  I parted with them politely and soon they'll fly halfway around the world, home.  I was angry for days, and I allowed myself to rest for a few beats and sit with the anger.  Now I just feel sad that a man I had looked up to could be so blind by choice.  These people wear a filter over their eyes that prevent them from seeing reality that conflicts with dogma.  With minimal study and an open mind, one can harmonize our truth with that of the church.  Recognition of familial abuse is a chosen blind spot, one that needs to be attended to if the institution wants healing.  Choosing to disengage with grace was the right call, i think.  Forcing anyone to accept my truth makes me more like my mother.  If you don't like my reality, then I kindly invite you find your own   thanks again guys.

[claudiaduffy]

  Choosing to disengage with grace was the right call, i think.  Forcing anyone to accept my truth makes me more like my mother.  If you don't like my reality, then I kindly invite you find your own 

^^^^^^^^^^Good, good stuff.