There, and back again. A survivor's tale.

[Our abuse recovery guide]

It's been almost ten years since I found this board.  And, over ten years since I went no contact with my borderline mother.

In those ten years, I've come a very long way, and now in what I can no longer deny is middle age, I have reached a place of strength, security, and, for the most part, inner peace.  I have (mostly) dealt with the emotional fallout and pain of abuse and neglect that has characterized my relationship with her since I was small.

I have two wonderful sons, the oldest 23 (previous marriage), the youngest now seven.  Last time I updated my profile here he was newborn.  I have a fantastic relationship with a really great woman, who is unfailingly supportive.  We have yet to have a single fight, our few disagreements are worked out quietly and respectfully, with an overall approach of "it's all small stuff".  Life has been good, although it has never been free of the emotional scar tissue left by the predations of Becky Borderline.

Last spring, my mother fell critically ill.  I had no intention of going to see her, until my oldest son called and asked me to.  It was important to him, so I went.  It was very emotionally difficult to be there.  The hospital wasn't far from the house I grew up in, so I took a walk, went there (closer to say, wound up there, I had no plan) and went in (the back is never locked).  The truth is I never felt at home in that house, as much as I wanted to, needed to.  I never felt welcome in it, or safe in it, unless she was rarely away.  As I walked through, looked over things I hadn't seen in so long, went over memories I hadn't called up in so long I was overwhelmed by sadness, grief, loss of the home I never had.  And truly, until my wife and I bought our current house, I have never really had a home.  Everywhere else was transient.

And I felt safe in that house for the first time, with her lying in hospital dying.  I lay on my old bed and wept.  It was tremendously cathartic, cleansing.  Something clicked.

In the end she didn't die.  She recovered.  I went down, more or less every week, to see her.  She was changed, contrite, acknowledging the damage she had done, apologizing, saying "tell me what I have to do," so she could be back in my life."  It was - not bad.  She really did seem to have changed.  I did however learn that she'd given away something like half a million dollars to various charities.  Now, I do not in principle object to this, but having heard nothing from her my whole life but "We can't afford it", this was a bitter pill to swallow.

She asked me to come down and visit her.  I wrote her and laid out my boundaries, this got no response.  She did confirm she wanted me to come down.
Yesterday I did.  Suffice to say, it did not go well.  She was unwilling to admit to any abuse, any neglect, anything.  She was as full of anger and blame as ever, unwilling to take any responsibility.

So that was hard.

And yet, though she hasn't really changed, I have.  I have found my strength and inner peace, as a husband, as a father, as a man.  My ultimate (though perhaps not final) epiphany came only a few weeks ago.  It was the realization that, ultimately I was missing that core element of maternal love - something I had yearned for and been lacking all my life.  To some degree my aunts have filled that role, but never in the way my mother should have.  In that realization came the understanding that all that pain and lack was purely >internal<.  It had no real bearing to the world I live in today, who I am today, what I do today.  If I could recreate it in my mind, perhaps I wouldn't need to seek it from my mother.  It occurred to me that my paternal grandmother had loved me unreservedly (my maternal grandmother was as BPD as my own mother).  My paternal grandmother died when I was about 11, and was in dementia for awhile before that, but when I was 9 she called me before Christmas one day and asked what I wanted.  I wanted, more than anything, a Hotwheels Road King Mountain Mine playset, but my mother's rule was that I couldn't have anything that was advertised on television, so this was forbidden (not a bad rule, actually, but badly applied by Becky Borderline).  Nevertheless, I knew that if I asked my granny would get it for me, and I did ask, and she did get it.  I was over the moon when I got it Christmas morning - although, truth be told, and like most toys of its kind, it had limited play value and was broken before January was out.  Nevertheless, many years later that gift came back to me, the fact that my grandmother had conspired with me to slip it under my mother's nose.  The little boy in my head ran around skipping and chanting a little song, "granny loves me," over and over, it was such a warm, comforting thought, I cannot fully describe how freeing it was.  I looked up the little truck that came with the set on the internet, and it took me right back to a time when I was safe and loved and special.
I knew my grandmother only as a child, probably only a scant six years between being able to recognize her as a distinct person, and having her dementia steal that person slowly away.  What I have of her now is only an image, a symbol of unconditional love, and yet, in the painstakingly re-assembled puzzle that is my sense of self and self-worth, her love fits like the last piece, making the picture whole.

That gave me the strength to visit my mother.  It gave me the strength to stand my ground with her.  It gave me the strength to leave when she refused to be reasonable.  I am saddened that once again the potential for a relationship has foundered, but I am safe from her toxicity, and no longer crippled by her deficits of care.

I told my mother, very clearly, before I left that I was open to having a relationship with her, but that it was up to her to write, to call, to take the initiative.  I would not be calling or writing.  However I am going to write one last email, to say exactly that I am open to a relationship, but that she has to take the initiative, so I have it archived, so she cannot distort or deny it.

And that, is a great feeling!

Cheers all!

Chris

[stellaris]

It's been almost ten years since I found this board.  And, over ten years since I went no contact with my borderline mother.

In those ten years, I've come a very long way, and now in what I can no longer deny is middle age, I have reached a place of strength, security, and, for the most part, inner peace.  I have (mostly) dealt with the emotional fallout and pain of abuse and neglect that has characterized my relationship with her since I was small.

I have two wonderful sons, the oldest 23 (previous marriage), the youngest now seven.  Last time I updated my profile here he was newborn.  I have a fantastic relationship with a really great woman, who is unfailingly supportive.  We have yet to have a single fight, our few disagreements are worked out quietly and respectfully, with an overall approach of "it's all small stuff".  Life has been good, although it has never been free of the emotional scar tissue left by the predations of Becky Borderline.

Last spring, my mother fell critically ill.  I had no intention of going to see her, until my oldest son called and asked me to.  It was important to him, so I went.  It was very emotionally difficult to be there.  The hospital wasn't far from the house I grew up in, so I took a walk, went there (closer to say, wound up there, I had no plan) and went in (the back is never locked).  The truth is I never felt at home in that house, as much as I wanted to, needed to.  I never felt welcome in it, or safe in it, unless she was rarely away.  As I walked through, looked over things I hadn't seen in so long, went over memories I hadn't called up in so long I was overwhelmed by sadness, grief, loss of the home I never had.  And truly, until my wife and I bought our current house, I have never really had a home.  Everywhere else was transient.

And I felt safe in that house for the first time, with her lying in hospital dying.  I lay on my old bed and wept.  It was tremendously cathartic, cleansing.  Something clicked.

In the end she didn't die.  She recovered.  I went down, more or less every week, to see her.  She was changed, contrite, acknowledging the damage she had done, apologizing, saying "tell me what I have to do," so she could be back in my life."  It was - not bad.  She really did seem to have changed.  I did however learn that she'd given away something like half a million dollars to various charities.  Now, I do not in principle object to this, but having heard nothing from her my whole life but "We can't afford it", this was a bitter pill to swallow.

She asked me to come down and visit her.  I wrote her and laid out my boundaries, this got no response.  She did confirm she wanted me to come down.
Yesterday I did.  Suffice to say, it did not go well.  She was unwilling to admit to any abuse, any neglect, anything.  She was as full of anger and blame as ever, unwilling to take any responsibility.

So that was hard.

And yet, though she hasn't really changed, I have.  I have found my strength and inner peace, as a husband, as a father, as a man.  My ultimate (though perhaps not final) epiphany came only a few weeks ago.  It was the realization that, ultimately I was missing that core element of maternal love - something I had yearned for and been lacking all my life.  To some degree my aunts have filled that role, but never in the way my mother should have.  In that realization came the understanding that all that pain and lack was purely >internal<.  It had no real bearing to the world I live in today, who I am today, what I do today.  If I could recreate it in my mind, perhaps I wouldn't need to seek it from my mother.  It occurred to me that my paternal grandmother had loved me unreservedly (my maternal grandmother was as BPD as my own mother).  My paternal grandmother died when I was about 11, and was in dementia for awhile before that, but when I was 9 she called me before Christmas one day and asked what I wanted.  I wanted, more than anything, a Hotwheels Road King Mountain Mine playset, but my mother's rule was that I couldn't have anything that was advertised on television, so this was forbidden (not a bad rule, actually, but badly applied by Becky Borderline).  Nevertheless, I knew that if I asked my granny would get it for me, and I did ask, and she did get it.  I was over the moon when I got it Christmas morning - although, truth be told, and like most toys of its kind, it had limited play value and was broken before January was out.  Nevertheless, many years later that gift came back to me, the fact that my grandmother had conspired with me to slip it under my mother's nose.  The little boy in my head ran around skipping and chanting a little song, "granny loves me," over and over, it was such a warm, comforting thought, I cannot fully describe how freeing it was.  I looked up the little truck that came with the set on the internet, and it took me right back to a time when I was safe and loved and special.
I knew my grandmother only as a child, probably only a scant six years between being able to recognize her as a distinct person, and having her dementia steal that person slowly away.  What I have of her now is only an image, a symbol of unconditional love, and yet, in the painstakingly re-assembled puzzle that is my sense of self and self-worth, her love fits like the last piece, making the picture whole.

That gave me the strength to visit my mother.  It gave me the strength to stand my ground with her.  It gave me the strength to leave when she refused to be reasonable.  I am saddened that once again the potential for a relationship has foundered, but I am safe from her toxicity, and no longer crippled by her deficits of care.

I told my mother, very clearly, before I left that I was open to having a relationship with her, but that it was up to her to write, to call, to take the initiative.  I would not be calling or writing.  However I am going to write one last email, to say exactly that I am open to a relationship, but that she has to take the initiative, so I have it archived, so she cannot distort or deny it.

And that, is a great feeling!

Cheers all!

Chris

[Harri]

Beautiful.   I don't have many words to write here.  Just know that I read your post with a smile on my face and I felt joyful for you and the man you are and I am thankful you came back to share your story.  While your mother may not have changed, you were indeed able to overcome your past and shine so brightly.  Your story is one of hope and offers proof that even one loving and accepting person in our lives makes all the difference.  I am so glad you had your granny.  She sounds like she was a wonderful lady.

Thanks again and peace to you and yours.

PS  I searched for the toy you mentioned and spent a few minutes watching a clip of it on youtube.   Very cool!

[stellaris]

Thanks Harri.  The one message I really want to get out to the community is this... .

It's all in your mind.

This doesn't mean you can ignore your trauma, doesn't make your abuse right, certainly doesn't offer an existence free of pain, loss or the scars left behind.  It doesn't mean you have no work to do, no struggle, nor will have no relapses.  But it does mean that the solution is within you.   Letting go is an internal decision, and as difficult as it is to let go of the loving parent we didn't get as children, as difficult as it is to relenquish those unmet needs, it is still a decision you can make on your own.   This does not require you to forgive the unforgiveable, it requires only that you identify some inner talisman of childhood love that you can identify with, hold on to and build upon.  Normal parents would give us this in abundance, but it still only takes one special moment, special item, special thing.  That little truck does it for me, but it can be anything.  It can even be imaginary - because it really is all in your mind, you are free to create your own symbolism, your own inner space where your neglected, abused, frightened inner child can be safe and loved.  When you have this, you are released, off the hook of fear, obligation, guilt forever, because those things only work when you have that inner, unmet need that the borderline didn't supply, but might yet supply.

Not easy - it's not easy writing this, but it can be done.  And once done, it is almost magically empowering.  Letting go lets you off the hook of trying to get that so-needed nurturing that is never forthcoming.  Walking away gives you power, but letting go gives you freedom.

I may even have the strength to reach out yet again, maybe help my so dysfunctional mother to gain some peace in her own life.

We'll see.

Chris

[Fie]

Thank you so much for sharing this. You really gave me something to think about.

[Kwamina]

Hi Jiminy uhhh I mean stellaris

Welcome back and thanks for sharing your insights. You've clearly come a long way and done a lot of healing. It definitely is hard, but like you say the solution lies within us. The most important work we need to do is indeed internal which can then manifest itself externally.

Take care and I hope you continue healing and growing  You are on the right track

The Board Parrot

[Pilpel]

Thank you for sharing your story!

[drained1996]

Thanks for sharing stellaris!  And a big congratulations to you for the work you have put in yourself... .you are correct, our answers are within us... .