Welcome to the board, Freddie04!
I am very sorry for this grief and pain that you are going through. I can understand how it does indeed seem rather hopeless. To make matters worse, you were between a rock and a hard place in recommending the professionally correct thing to do (and who wouldn't say that someone threatening suicide should go to the hospital?), knowing your chances of being seen unfavorably, or in taking the chance that she would actually follow through and kill herself.
He asked me to help with her when she began talking about killing herself. I am a counselor and thought I could calm her down, but was not prepared for the irate state I found her in. Things did not go well when I recommended assessment at the hospital. Professionally I know it was the right call, but this has caused me to become the bad guy.
How sad the situation where the children, or in this case grandchildren, become pawns in the game which the BPD plays. :'( It isn't fair, and it isn't right to you or the grandchildren. Unfortunately we both know that fair doesn't exist in a BPD's world. It is all about them and their perception of rejection.
While we both know this situation you are in seems hopeless, I want to offer you some thoughts from my own experience. It's not from the perspective of being a grandparent with a BPD child or in-law, but it is from the perspective of being one of those grandkids that was no longer allowed to see her grandparents. I am a grandparent now too, and I cannot imagine not being allowed to see my dear little ones btw.
While growing up in a home with a uBPDm, my paternal grandparents were painted black. I heard it day in and day out. What would a small child do but grow up believing it, at least partially so, after hearing it for so many years? Fortunately I was allowed to see them until I was 12 years old, and they lived only one house away from me. There is much I do not remember about my grandma (she died when I was 12) except for a few good memories and then of course 'how awful she was' as portrayed by my mom. I think part of my memory blanks are due to the fact that I was a child living in my own world, trying to survive the abusive environment in which I lived, and also due to the fact that I was afraid and confused as to whom to believe. Do I believe what I see, or do I believe what I hear?
My paternal grandfather lived to be 98 1/2 years old, and thankfully I chose, about the time I turned 18 and left home for college, that I would not take on the belief system and grudges and bitterness of my uBPDm. I clearly remember saying to myself that life was too short to hate people. I reached out to grandpa and wrote to him through my college years. In fact, when I traveled to Africa to live for 8 months my jr year of college, my grandpa came to visit me.
As your grandkids get older, they'll want to make their own choices. If you do your best to maintain contact with them, they will know that you care for them. A suggestion would be that as you look ahead, think of what you
can do that will be hopeful and encouraging to you. While you may not be allowed to have contact, you can have contact in your own way by:
1. Writing them a letter on their birthday. Keep it in a journal for them for "someday."
2. Opening a savings account in their name with their SS#, and put $ in it for the future if you cannot give them gifts in person. They will be thrilled to receive it from you someday.
3. Send birthday cards each year. They will know that they have grandparents that they do not know very well, and they will wonder, yet they'll see that someone is thinking of them.
4. Keep a journal with photos of their grandparents (you). This way they will know that you think of them often and wish that things were different. You can share why you chose to try and protect their mom before their brother was born, and this will help to counter the lies that she will be saying as she paints you black. They need to hear your story someday.
I'm in T, and recently I've begun to visit with my aunts and uncles that we weren't allowed to see. I've also been asking questions of them this past year, things like: Were grandma and grandpa happy to have us as their first grandchildren? Did we get to go and see them when we were really little? Did they like us?
Did they love us? (Us being my brother and I). It has become hugely important to me to know that I was important to them, that they loved me, because I was told that they were so mean. I needed to counter the lies.
As the authors of
"Surviving a Borderline Parent" state:
"Now as an adult, it's important to look back and, as much as possible, sift through the past to discern your own thoughts, and feelings and to learn more about who the people were around you... .It's up to you now to make your own assessment as a somewhat detached witness who suspends judgment and deals only with the facts as much as possible."My suggestions are not a fix-all, and I'm not trying to minimize your situation. There are other grandparents hurting like you. I hope this will be a way to help, at least a bit, and to help your grandchildren, no matter the amount of time you're not allowed to be in touch with them. Tell the story of your lives so you can one day share it with them. It will help fill the holes that will be there.
This past holiday season, I was given one of the best gifts ever. My maternal grandfather died when I was 16, nearly 36 years ago. I had begun to wonder this past year if he really cared for my brother and I. Did he love us? I thought he did, but I really didn't know. My grandma is still living, and when she sold her house, a distant relation asked me if I would like some of my grandfather's ancestry paper information. Of course I said yes. When the package came, inside was his wallet, the one which he carried up until the day he died. I opened the wallet, and inside was his photo holder. How great my joy to discover that he carried pictures of my brother and I, when we were little, ages 2 through 5, close to him for all those years. It brought me to tears because I saw how much we meant to him. It was a gift beyond anything else, and one which unequivocally answered my question.
Wools
