A nice way to heal

[Depression = 72% of members]

One of the mast damaging things I experienced being "parented" by Becky Borderline was the gaslighting.  The family narrative has been that I was the problem, and any time I try to point out her abuse and craziness, she tells me that I have false memories.  She's quite the expert in diverting the conversation away from any responsibility on her part to some form of innate evil on my part.

This has made me kind of obsessive about the accuracy of my memory.  On top of this there is a constant yearning to recapture those rare moments in growing up when I felt safe, loved, or special.  So I do go on Google Earth and look at old neighbourhoods, look up old favourite toys, find secret touchstones that tell me that yes, my reality is >real< and Becky Borderline is the one who's views are wildly distorted. This began with a search for a particular truck set my very loving grandmother gave me at age 9, and has since expanded to include favourite books, scenes from movies, my first car, all kinds of touchstones.  The oldest memory I've been able to verify is from age 3.

And the other day, it occured to me that I should make a directory and save all these images, and I have.  And it's amazing how this has allowed me to connect to the very lost, hurt young boy I was back then, with a kindness and compassion that my young self very badly needed.  It tells a story, of a boy with a passion for learning and discovery, showing my interests and development over the years. 

I went out to the woods yesterday with my younger son, now 10.  He had this ambitious plan for a fort in his mind - far too ambitious to actually execute (plus he already has a pretty cool treehouse), but we did pile some sticks up, which achieved the objective of rambling around and doing something.  That evening we went up the treehouse and just hung out, whittling on a stick and looking at the stars.  On the way down, he mentioned all the great memories we had in that treehouse, the pinecone wars, the pirate adventures, the whole building process.  I built it specifically to give him all those memories but, maybe for the first time last night, I felt they were my memories too.  Being a good father to him is being a good father to my younger self too, playing with him brings back all those lost opportunities.  You can never step twice in the same river, but sometimes the current loops around and brings back what you might otherwise have lost forever.

[stellaris]

One of the mast damaging things I experienced being "parented" by Becky Borderline was the gaslighting.  The family narrative has been that I was the problem, and any time I try to point out her abuse and craziness, she tells me that I have false memories.  She's quite the expert in diverting the conversation away from any responsibility on her part to some form of innate evil on my part.

This has made me kind of obsessive about the accuracy of my memory.  On top of this there is a constant yearning to recapture those rare moments in growing up when I felt safe, loved, or special.  So I do go on Google Earth and look at old neighbourhoods, look up old favourite toys, find secret touchstones that tell me that yes, my reality is >real< and Becky Borderline is the one who's views are wildly distorted. This began with a search for a particular truck set my very loving grandmother gave me at age 9, and has since expanded to include favourite books, scenes from movies, my first car, all kinds of touchstones.  The oldest memory I've been able to verify is from age 3.

And the other day, it occured to me that I should make a directory and save all these images, and I have.  And it's amazing how this has allowed me to connect to the very lost, hurt young boy I was back then, with a kindness and compassion that my young self very badly needed.  It tells a story, of a boy with a passion for learning and discovery, showing my interests and development over the years. 

I went out to the woods yesterday with my younger son, now 10.  He had this ambitious plan for a fort in his mind - far too ambitious to actually execute (plus he already has a pretty cool treehouse), but we did pile some sticks up, which achieved the objective of rambling around and doing something.  That evening we went up the treehouse and just hung out, whittling on a stick and looking at the stars.  On the way down, he mentioned all the great memories we had in that treehouse, the pinecone wars, the pirate adventures, the whole building process.  I built it specifically to give him all those memories but, maybe for the first time last night, I felt they were my memories too.  Being a good father to him is being a good father to my younger self too, playing with him brings back all those lost opportunities.  You can never step twice in the same river, but sometimes the current loops around and brings back what you might otherwise have lost forever.

[Thanks]

Beautiful! What a great idea! And you time with your son sounds priceless!

[Spindle0516]

This is a beautiful story and gave me mild noseburn. That is what I call the feeling right before you feel teary eyed.

Thank you for sharing this with us 

[Methuen]

Oh my goodness stellaris.  This is beautiful! 

I wish you would share it on the Celebrate Success thread!  I think it's so important to have a collection of success stories where we can go to when we need hope, encouragement, or just a warm happy feeling where we can celebrate success as a bpdfamily.