Where to begin...
Two weeks ago our 27-year-old daughter had spun so out of control and I knew it was time to get her some help. Another job had been lost, her studio apartment was a major disaster and public health hazard, her mood was increasingly erratic and she had become suicidal. It took two ER visits to get her to agree to being admitted and she spent the better part of two weeks in a locked psychiatric ward where she was diagnosed as Type II Bipolar, as well as having anxiety and depression and a substance abuse issue. She was put on antipsychotics and antidepressants and seemed like she was evening out very well. Two days ago she was sent to a longer term rehab facility where they changed her diagnosis to BPD with PTSD. She displays many of the hallmark BPD symptoms so it isn't surprising. The surprising thing is how exhausted I feel. I thought having her in treatment would help me relax in the knowledge that she was safe, eating regularly, sleeping well, and taking her medication and not self medicating with alcohol and street drugs. Now I can't seem to sleep and am having panic attacks and am like a raw nerve of emotion. It definitely didn't help when my first Google searches of BPD pretty much pointed the finger directly at me as the "parent from hell". Granted I have my moments and take a great deal of responsibility for her condition. Her biological father died when she was four and I was pregnant with her brother. The brutally honest truth is that I was not in love with him anymore. Yes, I loved him as a person but I didn't want to be married to him. So I moved on quickly. Probably too quickly for someone with a child. I was selfish and wanted the life of a stable young married person. Not the "poor widow". I married my current husband (20 years this summer) and he helped me raise her, our son and we had one child together. I think I always pushed for "normalcy". I grew up with a rather emotionally unstable mother and the stress of that has made me a little, what some people call "cold". Which in all honesty is not how I feel internally but I am very ill adept at dealing with high emotion. (Bad match with a BPD child) So I shut down and prefer the position of the ostrich with its head in the sand. I know I didn't fully appreciate the depth of her loss and wanted to move on with a regular life. At 50 I know too many people and too many stories and have lived too long to still believe in "a normal life" (proviso - good and full are not synonymous with "normal") but at 27 that was my dream. Life was ok for a few years. She always did prefer to be with his family and so she spent many weekends with her grandmother and uncle. And her stepdad, my current husband, just didn't mesh well with her dad's family. There was some tension over boundaries and as time went on the tension increased when our daughter turned 12 and 13 and her small behaviors turned to lying, sneaking out, shoplifting, school truancy and threats to "run away" when asked to do the simplest of chores and when we tried to set boundaries or enact the punishment of grounding her biological dad's family would console her, reinforce how awful we were and so we stopped communicating. This was her greatest triumph and worked in her favor for years. By the time she left at 18 the tidal wave of emotional eggshells were ready to snap the walls of our home. We all avoided her. She was cruel, demanding, confrontational and unpredictable and occasionally violent with her younger brother. She adored her baby sister but I was terrified she would do something to her, even on accident in a rage so I was wildly overprotective. We had stopped parenting basically, opting for just trying to get her to graduate. No one ever wanted to upset her. We scattered like cockroaches when a light switched on if we heard her slam a door. She hated us. Wished I was the one that died. Told all manner of horrible things to her biological dads family about us and our "abuses". Told her siblings untrue stories and things so they now avoid her. I think her stepdad withdrew from her more just because she was not afraid to tell pretty horrible lies and the fear of being accused of something unthinkable became a real threat so he kept his distance. I eventually had a nervous breakdown of sorts and ended up on anxiety medicine for a few years. She left home as soon as she graduated and a sense of quiet and relief flooded over the house, the other children grew, another one graduated and went to college and we moved to our little farm and she visited from time to time (some visits good, some not). Fast forward 9 years...a phone call I had dreaded...lost another job...boyfriend dumped...moving back home to start over...lived at our house for two weeks and HAD to have an apartment she found. (Same one my husband and I just packed up and cleaned out today). In this highly tumultuous six months she wrecked a 4th car in two years, has alienated her youngest sibling (15y.o.) who has since begged us not to let her live with us again , gone through four jobs, and thousands of dollars from us. We tried to throw money at this and it is truly "shame on us" because it didn't work. No matter how we tried to comfortably set her up. I am back on my anti anxiety meds...
. And now we have the perfect diagnosis...she called me to tell me her diagnosis and to "look it up"...because she "can't help it" and it is caused by "emotional abuse"...I believe she has it. I want her to get the help she needs. I most ardently love her. But I don't like her very much right now. Ugly. Truth. And I absolutely know I do not want her living in our house when this 30 days is up. I am a writhing mass of guilt, anger and fear and more than anything just wanted to get that out. Would appreciate any thoughts, experiences, feedback...Love to you all!
