Scared with BPD
Well-known member
Does anyone else out there have a really unhealthy relationship with their mum?
Mum always "suffered with her nerves" (good old seventies saying) throughout my childhood and I have memories of her pretending to leave us all, case packed, on many occasions. Otherwise it was pretty much continual loud arguments resulting in Mum crying and me from a very young age running between two rooms begging them both to become friends again. I absolutely hated it and even now cannot stand confrontation, albeit, I know I have a temper to rival the devil when I am pushed over that line! So, I was laughingly known as the peace-maker in our family and that has been my role ever since.
Since a very young age I was aware of when Mum was taking "happy pills" up around 4.00am and whizzing around joyful (guess things were much less sophisticated chemically in those days). In addition, Dad has always been anxious and because of that a shouter. He has been on Valium for as long as I can remember. Add to the mix, Mum's mum who was finally diagnosed as schizophrenic after we had had many years of phobias, falling out with neighbours because she had paranoia and believed things were happening when they weren't, guess you get the general picture.
So, when I'd left home at 17 and my flat-mate was moving down South, I didn't even think it odd that I had rationalised that if I got too lonely then I would kill myself. It seemed a great safety net and a totally practical solution. Of course, I never voiced it to anyone, found I still had a good social life and job and finally applied for a job in London in the Arts, got it and moved down.
Three years into my stay in London not only did the thought re-surface but I went ahead with such determination that I was actually punching the ambulanceman who was trying to put me on a stretcher when a friend back in Sheffield had realised I sounded strange on the phone and alerted them.
That was the beginning.
From 30 onwards I have tried many many times and these times my parents became aware. Obviously I have to live with the guilt of the fear they have suffered and I am very ashamed of that. What I have to say is peculiar is that when my husband, disloyally told Mum that I was raped at 15 to try and make her understand something about who I was, she started the competition.
Now everything to do with MH she competes about. I swear that if she could get her village GP to diagnose her with Professionally Accredited Personality Disorder to rival Borderline she would. Every conversation starts off with "how are you?" and within minutes I am either counselling her marriage or her relationship with my brother (who she has not spoken to for three months) or trying to sort out her head. I love her so dearly but when I am dragging along the bottom like I feel at the moment it is really hard.
There are days when I just want to shut off from the world, many days in fact. But I know I have to speak to her every day. If I do not then I am accused of being deliberately cruel as I should know that she assumes I have done something stupid. I often feel like I should apply for a BAFTA. I can say the most soothing, upbeat things and fantasise a positive spin on everything and then come off the phone and cry my eyes out whilst either getting back into bed or hitting the bottle.
Sorry everyone for droning on. I just wondered if there was anyone else who was any kind of similar situation?
Claire x
Mum always "suffered with her nerves" (good old seventies saying) throughout my childhood and I have memories of her pretending to leave us all, case packed, on many occasions. Otherwise it was pretty much continual loud arguments resulting in Mum crying and me from a very young age running between two rooms begging them both to become friends again. I absolutely hated it and even now cannot stand confrontation, albeit, I know I have a temper to rival the devil when I am pushed over that line! So, I was laughingly known as the peace-maker in our family and that has been my role ever since.
Since a very young age I was aware of when Mum was taking "happy pills" up around 4.00am and whizzing around joyful (guess things were much less sophisticated chemically in those days). In addition, Dad has always been anxious and because of that a shouter. He has been on Valium for as long as I can remember. Add to the mix, Mum's mum who was finally diagnosed as schizophrenic after we had had many years of phobias, falling out with neighbours because she had paranoia and believed things were happening when they weren't, guess you get the general picture.
So, when I'd left home at 17 and my flat-mate was moving down South, I didn't even think it odd that I had rationalised that if I got too lonely then I would kill myself. It seemed a great safety net and a totally practical solution. Of course, I never voiced it to anyone, found I still had a good social life and job and finally applied for a job in London in the Arts, got it and moved down.
Three years into my stay in London not only did the thought re-surface but I went ahead with such determination that I was actually punching the ambulanceman who was trying to put me on a stretcher when a friend back in Sheffield had realised I sounded strange on the phone and alerted them.
That was the beginning.
From 30 onwards I have tried many many times and these times my parents became aware. Obviously I have to live with the guilt of the fear they have suffered and I am very ashamed of that. What I have to say is peculiar is that when my husband, disloyally told Mum that I was raped at 15 to try and make her understand something about who I was, she started the competition.
Now everything to do with MH she competes about. I swear that if she could get her village GP to diagnose her with Professionally Accredited Personality Disorder to rival Borderline she would. Every conversation starts off with "how are you?" and within minutes I am either counselling her marriage or her relationship with my brother (who she has not spoken to for three months) or trying to sort out her head. I love her so dearly but when I am dragging along the bottom like I feel at the moment it is really hard.
There are days when I just want to shut off from the world, many days in fact. But I know I have to speak to her every day. If I do not then I am accused of being deliberately cruel as I should know that she assumes I have done something stupid. I often feel like I should apply for a BAFTA. I can say the most soothing, upbeat things and fantasise a positive spin on everything and then come off the phone and cry my eyes out whilst either getting back into bed or hitting the bottle.
Sorry everyone for droning on. I just wondered if there was anyone else who was any kind of similar situation?
Claire x
and I hope to see you around soon. Take care 
