Looking for how to get a therapist online, privately

[isilme]

I am not even sure where to put this, as I am an only child childhood survivor of 2 BPD parents, but I found and married what I knew and my husband has uBPD.   I have been on and off these boards since about 2007.

I don't trust therapists.  BPD dad forced me to go see one at 15 after he divorced BPD mom, and I suspected his session was after mine so he could ferret out info on me (I do not believe minors have rights to confidentiality as adults do).  So, I side-stepped and talked only about "safe" topics.  I could talk about Mom and her abuse and my being her caretaker.  I could talk about TV, and it being hard being in school number 8 or 9.  But I never spoke about dad and his abuse.  I did not feel safe.  Dad used to be predominantly a physical abuser, but after he got caught somehow by his workplaces (I think maybe the neighbors called the cops once?  Or someone saw my or mom's bruises) he flipped to cold, psychological abuse, emotional abuse and manipulation.  It was not the same as mom's manipulation.  His was more subtle. 

Dad kicked me out at 19, I was no longer a useful tool to hurt mom, his new wife wanted her guest room back, and kicking out a 19-year-old is not abandonment, but it's a full year past 18 so he could not be accused of being heartless and just kicking me out as soon as I was an adult. In the process, he found an old diary I'd finished in the fall and packed away.  I thought I had all my important stuff, forgot I'd filled up all the pages and moved to a new book.  I usually only wrote when at Dad's house, not so much when in the dorms, so it slipped my mind when I went to grab my clothes and return my housekey while he was at work.  Anyway, he photocopied the pages of the diary showing my VERY innocent forays into intimacy with my then-boyfriend-now-husband.  I am the only woman in his family to graduate college with a bachelor's AND not to have multiple kids with multiple fathers before age 20 or do drugs.  But, his goal was to paint me as a whore, and he mailed the pages to my grandparents, his sisters, and my BF's parents.  He wanted me destitute with no safe harbor and in his own words, "to come crawling back on [my] hands and knees in a fit of depression." 

This horrified now-BPDH.  He felt trapped with me, embarrassed of me, claims I ruined his relationship with his parents (somehow - they like me it seems, so I don't understand it beyond the same wounded middle child crap he has had with his siblings he is applying to me).  This came up this weekend as an issue, and I am reliving all that hurt about his shame at how he describes us ending up together.  He was dysregulating, and of course, when he falls back into idealization it will flip.  I just forgot how much it hurt to hear that. 

Anyway, I was NC at 19 with "dad" since he said he had no daughter.  I was stalked, had to tell bosses my embarrassing story, explaining that I'd be leaving my workplace for the day or hiding in the back if Dad or his father (grandpa) showed up.   

Mom cropped back up.  Dad had kept all communication from her away from me, and told me for about 4 years she hated me and didn't even try to write or call me.  I had "painted him white" at the time, I needed to believe he was not all that bad so I could keep from going crazy - he was the only human being I had left I'd known my whole life.  We were isolated until I was 14.  No family nearby, we were Army.  No friends really allowed.  I was alone in the world with 2 crazy violent manipulative adults.  And my cat. 

Mom popped up just over a year after I'd been kicked out.  I'd been away from her since father's day 1992 when I saved her life from dad strangling her.  She is an opioid abuser, took advantage of the 1980s lack of computers to go to multiple doctors and pharmacies for the same prescriptions, so she could abuse them.  I sued to come home from 3rd grade and find her faceplanted in the yard.  I had no help getting up and to school since I was about 7.  I spent much of my childhood watching TV on almost mute, listening for her to need something so I could bound up the steps.  Her displeasure meant she'd slap em and yell at me, then tell dad to beat me and yell at me.  So I was quiet and did my best to simply not be noticed.

Being away from her for the end of high school and the start of college was good for me.  I helped me get strong enough to stand up to dad that fateful day, tell him, "no," and get kicked out. 

When she showed up at my apartment, I was lost.  She spun a good victim yarn, extolled the virtues of her current life, and crept back in.  It took me a few years to realize she was self-sabotaging to try to get me to quit school, quit my job, leave my BF to come be her caretaker again.  Her manipulation went from disapproval to inventing new crises like being arrested for shoplifting more than once, evicted "because her landlady did not like her" to being fired from multiple jobs.  She even invented a rape claim I believe, and that is hard to say.  She jumped probation and left the state, going home to near where she grew up and found new marks to leech off of. 

Anyway, thru my 20s I was LC, and finally went NC during her last call.  She got mad, said we shouldn't talk, I agreed and hung up.  I was 30.

I have had no contact with her in about 14 years, and no real contact with dad in close to 24.  I tried to minimize the stress they put on my BF and his family, and just try to live day today. 

BPDH took all this mess to be them personally attacking him and causing him grief and has blamed me for it for years.  It does little good to point out he was merely collateral, and they were focusing on hurting me.  We met and dated young, and even if my parents had been normal, we'd have hurt each other over the years.  I asume most couples without a PD get over things better.  For him, an offense 20 years ago is as fresh as one last week.

We've had a rough several weeks.  His mom was found unconscious, she's diabetic, and needed to go to the ICU>  Turns out she caught the flu from some repairmen and it screwed up her tenuous sugar control and out her into ketoacidosis.  We go see her more often than his siblings.  In fact, they never go see her except maybe Christmas.  We live about 1.5 hours away.  She is a hoarder, and I am aware of how that hurts kids - but because they never go by, they can't see that at 71 her ability to hoard is far less than at 40.  Her main issues now stem from immobility due to age.  She really CAN'T sweep easily using a cane.  Anyway, super short story, the siblings wanted to board her like a puppy and not even do it up bear us, but leave her down in the Valley, so they'd be able to not visit.  We fought against that knowing she just needed someone to catch her up on 14 months of covid isolation cleaning where she had no help. 

Then BPDH tried to get itno our bank last weekend, and could not log in.  He immediately assumes I blocked him (nope, he never updated his info with them) and then poured over the statements for hours, and yes, I WAS hiding several credit cards from him.  I had gotten them in lean times and was not strong enough to not use them in better times.  And, in the last 5 years we've had several health issues where I did not have $400 free to spend on an MRI or CAT scan.  Car repairs.  I know I was dumb, I have been paying them down (and off), and fell for "discounts" and so forth.  I was handling it, am handling it, but now he is demanding I get a part-time job and pay off about $10K in a single year.  He does not understand you can pay and still have a balance, or how long it can take to make minimum payments.  He does not do the grocery runs, does not pay attention when gas goes up, and can't do math well usually, so to him I must have a lover or be sending someone money.  In his mind, groceries, utilities, car payments don't count as his expenses too.  Only the few purchases he directly makes count, but since he does not manage the bills or errands, or repairs, or maintenance, and asks me to do many of his clothing purchases myself he pretends they aren't for him.  I can spend $150 on clothes for him, but he will claim he spent no money.  We are not behind.  I am close to a few balances being 0, and snowballing that to others.  But, it made for a terrible weekend, and week.

Then, this weekend, I got a text from my mother's first son, given up at birth for adoption.  We do not talk often.  He is in another timezone, and BPDH is diabetic and if I am called during dinner, refuses to eat until I am done.  So, half-bro gets frustrated when I don't answer because he always called when I was driving, or eating.  Anyway.  I get a message that read:  mom doesn't have much time left, she has declined fast.  And a while later:  she passed.

Our only connection is mom.  We did not meet until I was 26, he was 36.  He lived in one place his whole life, I moved up and down the east coast and to Texas.  He is in Tennessee.  I have online friends I know better.  He was not always supportive of my need for NC, and expressed disapproval in one of our last conversations, in spite of learnging all of mom's issues with the law and scamming people.  She had taken to stealing my identity, and even trying to steal my mother-in-law's. 

I saw "she passed" while we were out visiting a shop downtown.  And it hurt a lot more than I expected.  And I had a very bad Friday because of it, not knowing how I felt if I was a bad person for not having cut and dry feelings, and overall, conflicted and weepy, tired, down.  BPDH was upset I had trouble speaking for a minute and insists I was going to pass out (I was not, I was trying to not openly sob) and was more concerned about how embarrassed he'd be if I fainted.  I am apparently too fat for him to pick up and he does not know what to do, and nothing is worse than him being embarrassed.  I did not want to go home and be sad.  We had one more stop to make and I insisted on going there.  He was mad at me for "being superwoman" but his grasp of other people's emotions is lacking.  I did not want him mad I stopped him from getting a supply he needed, and I did not want to just be home.  I could not call half-brohter.  My voice was still quavery and I did not want recriminations over being NC.  So I called him the next afternoon when I felt stronger.  And, after about 20 minutes or so, it became clear he was talking about his ADOPTED mom, not OUR mom.  He did not say MY mom has not got much time.  And he has referred to our shared mom as both "mom" and by her frist name. 

So, I am an ass and tried to be consoling and then went to explain to BPD H the mixup.  And he exploded.  Told me I should have gotten clarification (um, hey, by mom who do you mean?  yeah, that's a question you can ask, and it did not even occur to me).  Told me I ruined two weekends in a row.  Told me I should go get him food (He won't eat on his own.  He won't go get food, he won't go to the store, at best he will make child-level snacks like mac n cheese cups, unless he's going to cook for real).  There is too much insanity to write, I got blamed for something that was an honest mix up only an eff-ed up family like mine could have. Then he brought up my "betrayal" of the credit cards, and I had to bring up his cheating from when we were quite young.  He of course denies it, claims the letters I found while cleaning up PC files were nothing of the sort, and that people who told me of him doing things when out while I was at home, sleeping to get ready for work, or women I knew came to our home WHILE I was at work and he was unemployed and not going to school, it was all lies and people misjudging and it's all just unfair poor him.  He went on a quasi suicidal rant about his health and how he "won't live like that" related to his legs and eyes and diabetes complications (he has some retinopathy from being sedentary all last year, would not even use the workout subscription I bought him) and could lose some or all of his eyesight, or need injections in his eyes.  He is in pity-mode, claiming that no one could ever understand his pain and his loss of his feet (he has neuropathy - its effect seem largely tied to both weather shifts, illness, AND his emotional state.)  He overestimates his physical activity, and since I do ALL chores, errands, pet care, laundry, and at least 1/2 the cooking, he spends much of his time on his bum in front of a screen.  He is cliaming we've been swimming nightly for 3 weeks, reality - we went three nights for 2 weeks. 

He has forbidden me to express any feelings at all about my FOO, saying I used up all my credit for that.  Basically, the same old same old - he can have freakouts, I must be a robot. 

So, after a 4 hour argument where he took my keys, cellphone and ipad away threatened to slap a "smirk" ( I was NOT smirking) off my face, and then made claims he wanted a shootout with the police so he could die, I finally got him to give me my keys and finish he damn grocery list so I could bring us food.  I took away all his ammo and magazines without him knowing.  Mine is locked by my thumbprint. 

My reaction to the assumed death of BPD bothered me.  I know I do not wish to reach out, do not want to go visit her after death.  I know conflicting feelings are normal, and also that a lot of how I felt was anger at the confusion that comes from such a situation.  When you lose someone who was at least 51% okay to you, you know how to feel. 

Anyway, I am tired.  I am maybe thinking about seeing if I can get through any of this better with some counseling, but want it private, where BPDH doesn't know I am doing it - he will assume it's all about him (can't lie, he'd be a topic) and sneer at it, discourage or sabotage it.  I just can't deal with that ATM. 

[beatricex]

Hi isilme,
I hope that was theraputic for you, typing that all out.  You have quite a bit on your plate, and you've come to the right place.

I too wonder about the "end of life" feelings.  I too am NC for the second time, with my BPD mom.  The first NC lasted 7 years.  I figure my Mom might live another 10 or 15, and I've already made up my mind not to resume contact.

I guess someone in my family will eventually tell me "she passed." 

What do you think you are feeling exactly?  Is it shame or guilt or some other feeling.  By the way, it's perfectly normal to express your feelings, I'm sorry your husband cannot tolerate it, but here, it's safe to do so.

 

b

[isilme]

Typing always helps.  It's stupid, but I can no longer use a journal.  I tried a few times, ripped up the pages. 

I don’t know if guilt is quite what I feel, but I do repress my feelings quite a bit and have trouble when I need to define them.

I don’t feel guilty about being NC.  I do fear being ‘made’ to feel guilty for it, if that makes sense?  I have an near photographic memory for things my brain has not shut down to protect me, and I don’t need new voices echoing in my head. 

I think I maybe have not yet fully mourned the loss of what never would be, parents who helped, parents who would take me in as an adult if needed.  I struggled while my peers had help.  I moved into the dorms alone, all other girls had help.  I couldn’t buy a car till I was 30.  I got to go to college only because of my full scholastic scholarship.

I am upset that even in death they will cheat me of a normal experience. Every single aspect about dealing with either parent is tainted, nothing is wholesome, normal, without conflict.  Even if I learn of it several months later, even if overall it’s not grief like I’ve felt for my husband’s father who was kind to me, or his grandmother who was nothing like my father’s mother, I know I will feel distress.

I think part of this hit hard because I was already anticipating H’s mom passing with her recent ICU scare and I am just tired.

I have mast cell activation disorder, a nice hereditary gift from mom, a condition triggered into higher activity by each stressor in life.  I actually laughed out loud when my allergist diagnosed me and gave me a pamphlet  to read.  It stated, ‘may be caused or worsened by childhood abuse.’  And teen abuse, and normal life stress, and dad refusing to take me to doctors knowing I obviously had multiple sinus infections between September to March. 

Stress these days makes my body react like it is fighting the flu, I wake up daily questioning if I am ill or it’s just morning..  Fun times this last year, going for repeated covid tests to be sure it was just my body, not the Wu-flu.  But it’s been stressful, that makes me emotional.

Shame I guess is a big feeling.  I am ashamed I come from such a messed up place.  I am ashamed I could not be stronger at a younger age.  Loneliness.  I feel alone in the world, like a hanger-on at best much of the time, acutely aware ‘my’ family is dead, ignored me, or actively hurt me, or all of the above. 

I only had two people I’ve known since birth, and both are NC with me.  It’s a good thing for me they are, but it still stings that this is how it's got to be.  Nothing is ever easy, no relationship is able to be taken for granted as if it will exist tomorrow. 

It’s not so much a fear of abandonment.  It’s just that I will be alone eventually.  H is not doing great managing his diabetes, and has BPD himself, and is convinced he is going to die before 65.  Even if I doubt it logically, I hear it at least once a week. 

We had no kids.  He delayed marriage till we were 39, I knew I had no energy for him plus a possible special needs kid, and after 35 I know the chances increase.  I have friends who are great moms to extra chromosome kids, but given the example I had, I feared being a mom anyway.  Plus, I did not want a child around a BPD parent.  And, kids aren’t supposed to fill voids like that anyway, they are meant to be raised to fly free.

I grew up alone, playing in whatever basements we had.  It was the best way they did not have to hear me.  Often there was a family room, but at 5 it was a barebulb horror film basement off the kitchen. 

I will be fine. I just don’t like reminders I suppose of the family I had, and how final it will be that they will never be able to recompense for that.  They are figuratively dead already.  I need to accept it, and then when they stop breathing maybe it won’t be that bad.

[beatricex]

Hi again isilme,
I had a therapist, my first (seems like long ago) that told me to "hold out hope"  and that "people can change."

I remember thinking "i'm paying you?"

She told me another thing or maybe I learned it on my own at that time I was seeing her, what I was missing was spirituality:  It was the part of me needing nurturing.

You don't need to pray or even join a church, but maybe you have something to give back.  I find your writing to be full of clarity.  A little bitter sweet but there is clarity.  I hope you take that as a compliment, it is how it should be received because you have helped me achieve some insight into my own situation here tonight.

b

[I Am Redeemed]

Hi, isilme, it's good to hear from you.

It took courage to write out all of that

I certainly think you are right that you would benefit from a therapist or counselor. You need some real life support where you can speak about the things you have experienced and are experiencing. Online sites such as these are great, but from my own experience, real life support from a therapist has been essential to my own healing. This is particularly true because I don't have family or a significant other, or any "safe people" to go to for support.

Do I remember correctly that you work for a university? You may be able to get a few recommendations from professors in the psychology or social work departments of the university. Or, you can search for a therapist who provides telehealth services at Psychology Today:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us

[GaGrl]

Most universities have counseling services for students. It might be worth checking to see if those services are also offered to employees.

[isilme]

I am terrified of having the psych/soc dept know of my struggles   I work very closely with many of them on their research, and many are in the "physician heal thyself" category if you know what I mean.  I think a lot of them went into the field to solve their own problems.  I can't say how well that's worked out.   

But, I went online and found the available resources for staff.  The listings showed session rates, a bit steep for me at the moment, but at least I made sure I could log in. 

I am scared to talk to a real live person (no offense, but there are some safety buffers here).  Every single time I felt "safe" opening up, I think it has backfired, from well-meaning school counselors asking about bruises to my step-siblings when Dad married wife #3, to even off-hand comments to my now-husband's mother when we first started dating before I was kicked out.  Each time I got in trouble at home, for complaining, for "lying", for looking for pity. 

The taboo against talking is very ingrained.  I feel I disassociate to do it when I do, to maintain a dispassionate demeanor.  It freaks people out less if you can be calm and use gallows humor.

I do pray.  Not nearly as often as I should, and my relationship with God is likely different from others - both BPD dad, his father who was similar, were super churchy-people.  I had a repressed memory hit me full force in church service sitting next to my stepmom, of dad strangling mom the day we left her.  We had been getting ready for church, it was father's day, and they got into a bad fight and I was old enough/big enough to intervene.  It was a struggle to no react for a few hours. 

It was one reason I wanted to get married outside, not in a building.  I figure if God is everywhere, He certainly is outside. 

I will see what I can do about my fear.  It took me being almost bedridden by my mcas with 3 solid months of a daily fever over 100 and the inability to breathe (pre-covid thank goodness) to finally go see a doctor for help and to be persistent.  Dad had me convinced for me to need a doctor was attention-seeking and weak and meant I was just too lazy to push past exhaustion and pain. 

This is similar I think.