Thanksgiving is just around the corner. With it comes the dread & anxiety so many unchosens associate with the holidays. It may seem like you have nothing to be thankful for, but you do. You are alive. You are a survivor. If that’s not something to be thankful for, then I don’t know what is.
It seems so many of us get caught up in our own unrealistic expectations of the holidays. We so badly want a nice, loving family day that we almost kill ourselves trying to make it happen. Well here’s a news flash-we can’t control our BPD parent. We can’t control their behavior, their rages when they don’t have their way or their hurtful comments when the turkey isn’t done the way think it should be. Below are some hard lessons I have learned over the years.
1.It’s ok to skip thanksgiving. Really, it is. Take your day off from work and have a me day. If you have your own family, go to a restaurant, volunteer, or make a new tradition of sleeping late and making brunch instead of the traditional huge meal. Less stress for everyone involved. If your parent is angry that you don’t stop by or participate like other years, that’s their problem to deal with-not yours.
2. In one ear, out the other. Repeat after me-in one ear, out the other. Let all negativity from your parent (anyone, really) go in one ear and out the other. It is not your job to “fix” people or holidays to your parents liking.
3. Set ground rules, and follow thru. This one only works when the festivities are at your own home. Mom likes to name call? Dad pitches an annual rage before the turkey is carved? Let your parent know ahead of time that these behaviors will not be tolerated. They will probably accuse you of treating them like a child, which emotionally your parent is, but that’s just too damn bad. Your house, your rules. If your parent can’t abide by your rules, calmly pull them aside and ask them to leave. Be a broken record. Repeat as often as necessary these words “I’d like you to leave now.” Don’t negotiate with the emotional terrorist. Don’t allow them the power to ruin another family dinner. If they claim they forgot the house rules, too bad. They’ll “remember” next time, I promise.
4. Plan your escape. I always felt trapped when I was at someone else’s house and my mom would freak out on everyone. I was a kid who wanted to just get away. As soon as I bought my first car, that changed. I drove separately so I could leave when I wanted. Of course, you want to be gracious and polite but if your parent is raging or otherwise flying the BPD flag and the urge to flee strikes, go with it.
5. Scale down expectations. Is the whole day of festivities just too much? Scale it back. Meet for the annual touch football game and then tailgate or do your own thing. Offer to host coffee and dessert in the late afternoon/early evening. If you are hosting the big dinner, make it a simple menu and/or ask others to contribute a specific dish. Buy the meal if you want. No one cares how much time you spent making turkeys out of almond paste. Keep it simple, silly.
6. Enforce your boundaries (goes with #4). Does your Borderline parent take holidays as an excuse to list all your shortcomings? Tell you how great everyone else’s kids are while you are dirt? Or maybe like me, it’s just hard to watch your parent praise your other siblings while ignoring you or treating you like a scullery maid. You don’t have to take the crap nor should you. However, calling your parent on this stuff will just result in an even bigger spectacle. Walk away if your parent insults you. If you are being used as the maid, you have 2 options-grit your teeth and bare it or ask a sibling, aunt or cousin, whatever, to help. Chances are they see what’s going on but don’t want to rock the boat. If it’s all too much, it’s OK to leave.
It may seem like I advocate leaving quite a bit, and I do. I admit it. I have never seen a holiday turn out well where someone stays in a situation where they are verbally abused/emotionally manipulated. Yes, it’s only one day. If you can make it thru the day and not drive home in tears, then stay. I can’t do that. I have gotten to the point where after 30 years I couldn’t take her crap anymore and would not subject myself to it. So I decided to leave when I was at my limit, rather than being the good girl I was trained to be, the girl who took mom’s name calling and barked commands with a smile, all the while knowing that to her I was nothing more than a free maid. I leave gracefully, politely, never in a huff and never with a slammed door. Some of my best Thanksgivings have been frozen pizza at home, thankful for the home my husband and I have, and for the sense of security and stability we have built there.
All too often unchosens think that this is the year it will happen. This is the year that the family will finally have a normal Thanksgiving. No fighting, no tears, no slammed doors or silent dinners where everyone is afraid to speak because the tension is thicker than the mashed potatoes. Unchosen are a pretty optimistic bunch. Most people after a lifetime of crap holidays would give up but not us. We will have the Currier & Ives Thanksgiving, dammit, if it kills us.
So we let it slowly kill us. Year after year we hope, we plan, we try to control it all so our parent is happy. It gets to the point where we hate the holidays. Don’t let that happen. So what if you don’t want to invite your parent and they will be all alone? You aren’t their social director. And we all know there’s a good reason our BP parents wind up alone. It’s an accumulation of their years of manipulation, abuse, and mind games. They made their bed and it ain’t your job to get them out of it. Your job is to enjoy your life, your Thanksgiving, on your terms, not your parents.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Yo, Joey P.
I logged onto Joe Pantoliano’s website tonight called “No Kidding, Me Too!” I really liked what I saw especially their slogan “Stomp Out the Stigma.” I perused the site, found lots of cool things, and read their mission statement. It reads in part:
“No Kidding, Me Too! is an organization whose purpose is to remove the stigma attached to brain dis-ease through education and the breaking down of societal barriers. Our goal is to empower those with brain dis-ease to admit their illness, seek treatment, and become even greater members of society.”
Could it be? Have I lived to finally see people with some clout taking up the banner of mental illness awareness? I especially like the line “…to admit their illness (italics added by me)” To admit their illness…wow. That’s powerful for unchosens like me. It’s all I ever wanted from and for my mom; to admit she had a problem. To then finish whatever treatment her psych wanted her to do…to not doctor shop…to learn that she is a human being of unlimited potential.
I am all for organizations stomping out stigma. But, and this is me so there is always a but, it needs to be a family issue, not an individual issue. There needs to be open and honest dialogue about what it’s like to have a mentally ill parent. Unchosens need to be given the chance to tell others what we live with; the fear that at any moment our parent will snap and be taken away to the psych ward…the parental roles we assume for our ill parent…the double lives we lead, putting on a show for the outside world because to tell anyone that we are abused or neglected means WE get lectured. We get lectured that we have to understand our parent is ill (yeah that’s not a tough thing to understand when your mom freaks out over vacuum lines in the carpet), that they can’t help it when they hit/punch/spit on us/or call us names.
My mom may not, in fact, be able to control what she does. I believe that, that there are times she can’t control herself. But when all you tell a child is that we shouldn’t take it personally, that our parent can’t help it, and you offer us no solace or hugs, no words telling us “your mom is ill. It isn’t right what she did” you are showing us that we deserve this abuse. And that’s what it is, mental illness or not-abuse.
No one wants to talk about the fact that some mentally ill parents are abusive yet everyone wants to get rid of the stigma. The only way the stigma can be erased is to have an open dialogue about all facets of mental illness. No more sanitization or minimizing about the impact a parent’s mental illness has on a child. This means no looking away from an unchosen when we speak, no taking the mic from us at support group meetings when we say we are so tired, and just want a break or that we no longer want our parent in our lives. Yes, this has happened to me. I was told to come back when I could be more compassionate towards my mom.
Funny how I lived with a woman who showed me no compassion…saw family therapists who had no compassion for myself or my sibs...in short I was never shown what compassion was but if I wanted “support” I damn well better learn what it was or else. Sometimes I wonder if these support groups have a secret store or something, they are always telling you to get something-compassion, awareness, patience, like we can just go out and find it at K Mart.
“Blue light special in aisle 5….compassion for your mentally ill, abusive parent. Industrial size, buy one get one half off”
Only when people such as myself or my siblings can openly and honestly talk about the fear and anger we grew up with and not get shut down or silenced will the stigma of mental illness be gone. The stigma will not end without unchosen participation. To think it can is an illusion.
I applaud what Mr. Pantoliano is doing. It gives me hope. The organization he started is well on it’s way to stomping out stigma. Let’s hope in the future he and others can stomp out the stigma that children of the mentally ill don’t matter
“No Kidding, Me Too! is an organization whose purpose is to remove the stigma attached to brain dis-ease through education and the breaking down of societal barriers. Our goal is to empower those with brain dis-ease to admit their illness, seek treatment, and become even greater members of society.”
Could it be? Have I lived to finally see people with some clout taking up the banner of mental illness awareness? I especially like the line “…to admit their illness (italics added by me)” To admit their illness…wow. That’s powerful for unchosens like me. It’s all I ever wanted from and for my mom; to admit she had a problem. To then finish whatever treatment her psych wanted her to do…to not doctor shop…to learn that she is a human being of unlimited potential.
I am all for organizations stomping out stigma. But, and this is me so there is always a but, it needs to be a family issue, not an individual issue. There needs to be open and honest dialogue about what it’s like to have a mentally ill parent. Unchosens need to be given the chance to tell others what we live with; the fear that at any moment our parent will snap and be taken away to the psych ward…the parental roles we assume for our ill parent…the double lives we lead, putting on a show for the outside world because to tell anyone that we are abused or neglected means WE get lectured. We get lectured that we have to understand our parent is ill (yeah that’s not a tough thing to understand when your mom freaks out over vacuum lines in the carpet), that they can’t help it when they hit/punch/spit on us/or call us names.
My mom may not, in fact, be able to control what she does. I believe that, that there are times she can’t control herself. But when all you tell a child is that we shouldn’t take it personally, that our parent can’t help it, and you offer us no solace or hugs, no words telling us “your mom is ill. It isn’t right what she did” you are showing us that we deserve this abuse. And that’s what it is, mental illness or not-abuse.
No one wants to talk about the fact that some mentally ill parents are abusive yet everyone wants to get rid of the stigma. The only way the stigma can be erased is to have an open dialogue about all facets of mental illness. No more sanitization or minimizing about the impact a parent’s mental illness has on a child. This means no looking away from an unchosen when we speak, no taking the mic from us at support group meetings when we say we are so tired, and just want a break or that we no longer want our parent in our lives. Yes, this has happened to me. I was told to come back when I could be more compassionate towards my mom.
Funny how I lived with a woman who showed me no compassion…saw family therapists who had no compassion for myself or my sibs...in short I was never shown what compassion was but if I wanted “support” I damn well better learn what it was or else. Sometimes I wonder if these support groups have a secret store or something, they are always telling you to get something-compassion, awareness, patience, like we can just go out and find it at K Mart.
“Blue light special in aisle 5….compassion for your mentally ill, abusive parent. Industrial size, buy one get one half off”
Only when people such as myself or my siblings can openly and honestly talk about the fear and anger we grew up with and not get shut down or silenced will the stigma of mental illness be gone. The stigma will not end without unchosen participation. To think it can is an illusion.
I applaud what Mr. Pantoliano is doing. It gives me hope. The organization he started is well on it’s way to stomping out stigma. Let’s hope in the future he and others can stomp out the stigma that children of the mentally ill don’t matter
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Nifty Little Article Says It All
I saw this article today and I have to say, the author really captured what it is like to live with a parent that is narcissistic/borderline. Take a look, it's some good (but hard) reading about what unchosen go thru. A big thanks to the author, Chris, for putting it all into words so succintly.
Characteristics of Narcissistic Mothers
Characteristics of Narcissistic Mothers
Friday, September 18, 2009
Even Pedophiles Have a Facebook Page
FB is dangerous for people like me. I grew up surrounded by secrets and omissions, so as an adult I have a dogged determination to know things. Most things I want to know are things people don’t want to talk about, such as why my dad married my mom, just how in the hell does my mother afford her swanky new pad and brand new car on her supposed “paltry” income of bogus SSI and undeserved alimony, and what kind of life does the pedophile who abused me lead? For the latter, I guess I don’t have a really good explanation. Who wants to know this stuff? I do. And I guess the reason is, is that Creature (as I call him) devastated my world and set in motion over 20 years of my parents being in denial and backstabbing their daughter. I needed to see what I could of the type of person he is how.
Is he still the same effeminate mama’s boy that we all know should have been a girl? Can he still spin his BS in a masterful tapestry that one only learns at the knee of a narcissistic mother as he had? Does he still refuse to take any responsibility for any of his actions, instead preferring to blame and wax rhapsodic about pop psychology all in an effort to get you to forget the real topic of the convo? I needed to know this, so I looked him up on FB.
And there he was, in all his fat faced, washed out nelly glory. As soon as his face popped up I felt my eyes glaze over a bit. I had to breathe thru my mouth so the tears stayed behind my eyes. I wanted to see this pathetic excuse for a human being. I didn’t want any tears blinding me; I’ve shed enough of those. I don’t have time for them anymore. They get me nowhere and keep me trapped in a survivor’s limbo I want no part of. Well…I tell myself I want no part of it. The truth is, I was forced to suck it up and deal for so long that at least in this part of my life, I can’t cry. I'm just done with the tears. Sometimes I think that means something is wrong with me. I wonder if I have a dead zone inside of myself, a robot or something. Because when I see his face, after the initial shock, all I could think was “someday, asshole, you will get yours. And I *will* be there to watch you cry in all your pathetic loserness, wailing when you realizing that mommy and daddy can’t get you out of this.” I felt an anger so cold it burned, and a determined patience unlike anything I have ever felt. I felt like an assassin, just waiting for the right time to go in for the kill. And NO, I do not mean that literally, so don’t freak out and report me for saying I wanted to physically harm the freak. I believe in the justice system and the universal laws of nature, i.e. what you do comes back to you magnified.
I do dream about seeing his face when he realizes how many people know what he is and what he’s done. My mom and her sister, Creature’s mother, have told people for many years that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. That all that happened was 2 kids playing doctor. Nice try but no. 13 years old do not play doctor with 4 year olds and if they do, it's called ABUSE. My dad played along. Not maliciously, I don’t think. He just didn’t know what to do and hated confrontation anyway, so what the hell…there’s no harm in selling your kid down the river, is there?
So I’m reading his page, ‘cuz the moron (or maybe narcissist?) has it open for the entire world to see. I see him mention a family reunion, and that’s the kick in the gut. When all the shit came down about NC, when I found out the reason mom shut me up for years was because she had already spun the abuse story to her advantage, when all that happened, that side of the family chose a pedophile over his victim. That’s just asinine. I wish I had stronger words but it is what it is. They are so afraid of image, of rocking the boat, that they would rather believe the lies of a mentally ill woman and a pedophile than the truth from the persons (my bro, sis, and I-we all survived it. I may have been the one physically/sexually abused but the abuse affected all three of us) who lived it.
It’s been made clear to me many times that I will be welcomed back into the fold if I only repent and “forgive” these people. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. And yet…they are still my family and I had some good times with them. To see this freak being able to participate in their lives while I am shut out is the cruelest twist of fate. The truth should matter, dammit. But it doesn’t. People believe what they want and create their perceptions accordingly.
I don’t what this whole experience of looking Creature up means. Does it mean I am stronger? Or that I am still a stupid little girl, looking for someone to give a shit? I don’t know. But I do know that someday, somehow, that report I made to the police will be connected with another police report and another. The dominoes will fall into place and I can look into the eyes of this twisted freak and say “When I was 18 I told you that I’d make you pay. It took me a while, but don’t worry; the party is just getting started.”
Is he still the same effeminate mama’s boy that we all know should have been a girl? Can he still spin his BS in a masterful tapestry that one only learns at the knee of a narcissistic mother as he had? Does he still refuse to take any responsibility for any of his actions, instead preferring to blame and wax rhapsodic about pop psychology all in an effort to get you to forget the real topic of the convo? I needed to know this, so I looked him up on FB.
And there he was, in all his fat faced, washed out nelly glory. As soon as his face popped up I felt my eyes glaze over a bit. I had to breathe thru my mouth so the tears stayed behind my eyes. I wanted to see this pathetic excuse for a human being. I didn’t want any tears blinding me; I’ve shed enough of those. I don’t have time for them anymore. They get me nowhere and keep me trapped in a survivor’s limbo I want no part of. Well…I tell myself I want no part of it. The truth is, I was forced to suck it up and deal for so long that at least in this part of my life, I can’t cry. I'm just done with the tears. Sometimes I think that means something is wrong with me. I wonder if I have a dead zone inside of myself, a robot or something. Because when I see his face, after the initial shock, all I could think was “someday, asshole, you will get yours. And I *will* be there to watch you cry in all your pathetic loserness, wailing when you realizing that mommy and daddy can’t get you out of this.” I felt an anger so cold it burned, and a determined patience unlike anything I have ever felt. I felt like an assassin, just waiting for the right time to go in for the kill. And NO, I do not mean that literally, so don’t freak out and report me for saying I wanted to physically harm the freak. I believe in the justice system and the universal laws of nature, i.e. what you do comes back to you magnified.
I do dream about seeing his face when he realizes how many people know what he is and what he’s done. My mom and her sister, Creature’s mother, have told people for many years that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. That all that happened was 2 kids playing doctor. Nice try but no. 13 years old do not play doctor with 4 year olds and if they do, it's called ABUSE. My dad played along. Not maliciously, I don’t think. He just didn’t know what to do and hated confrontation anyway, so what the hell…there’s no harm in selling your kid down the river, is there?
So I’m reading his page, ‘cuz the moron (or maybe narcissist?) has it open for the entire world to see. I see him mention a family reunion, and that’s the kick in the gut. When all the shit came down about NC, when I found out the reason mom shut me up for years was because she had already spun the abuse story to her advantage, when all that happened, that side of the family chose a pedophile over his victim. That’s just asinine. I wish I had stronger words but it is what it is. They are so afraid of image, of rocking the boat, that they would rather believe the lies of a mentally ill woman and a pedophile than the truth from the persons (my bro, sis, and I-we all survived it. I may have been the one physically/sexually abused but the abuse affected all three of us) who lived it.
It’s been made clear to me many times that I will be welcomed back into the fold if I only repent and “forgive” these people. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. And yet…they are still my family and I had some good times with them. To see this freak being able to participate in their lives while I am shut out is the cruelest twist of fate. The truth should matter, dammit. But it doesn’t. People believe what they want and create their perceptions accordingly.
I don’t what this whole experience of looking Creature up means. Does it mean I am stronger? Or that I am still a stupid little girl, looking for someone to give a shit? I don’t know. But I do know that someday, somehow, that report I made to the police will be connected with another police report and another. The dominoes will fall into place and I can look into the eyes of this twisted freak and say “When I was 18 I told you that I’d make you pay. It took me a while, but don’t worry; the party is just getting started.”
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Life without BPD
I took a very long break, as you can all see. I had to find out if life really does exist outside of the sphere of BPD. You know what? It really does. I spent the last few months just enjoying life; watching good movies, reading good books, and connecting with friends new and old. But...this seems to be my life, advocating for children of the mentally and/or children of the personality disordered.
It's hard not to cry as I write this, because I have tried so damn hard for so long to get just one organization to hear the voices of us. I've sent letters and an editorial type biography to New York Presbyterian, detailing what life is like when your parent has BPD. They were all gung ho until they realized that I have No Contact with my mom. I was told that my article or whatever was not "in the spirit of helping people with BPD recover."
So basically, they didn't want their patients to experience reality. And you know what? Incresingly, that is the reality. More and more people with BPD parents are saying enough is enough, get out of my life. Many more are moving to extreme low contact because of the drama, the stress of suicide attempts, and the unhelpful mental health professionals who continually press us to be our parents caretaker. Personally, I think they do this in order to lighten their case loads and because they know that for some of us, our parent won't ever get help. These professionals are washing their hands of our parents and trying to make us responsible for them.
I've written to the NEA-BPD. 3 times. I have never gotten a response. They will gladly take your money for their overpriced coferences, yes, but as for telling you how to get involved? Nope. It seems to be some sort of mental health profesisonal fraternity or something. I don't even want to know the hazing initiations there!
I recently contacted NAMI again-we'll see how that goes.
I sent a letter to MindFreedom yesterday. I asked some questions about their mission and such.
It shouldn't be this hard to get involved. It's ridiculous that some major groups are so judgemental about children of the mentally ill. I would like them to walk in my shoes or the shoes of my friends. I *dare* a representative of eitherNY Presbyterian or NEA BPD to contact me and have an actual conversation with me. Not something in e mail, but a sit down, look me in the eye type of coversation. I doubt they will. If they do, I will be sure to tell you about it.
So that's where I have been. I guess it was a sabbatical of sorts, regrouping my thoughts and strength to keep fighting. Someday, somehow no matter what it takes, I will get out voices heard. It won't be a sugary sweet movie or book where all of a sudden I realize she really doesn't mean it, she's so ill, and gee mom let's just let bygones be bygones. It would probably be more on the lines of a book or miniseries that runs the disclaimer "Mature content. Viewer discretion advised."
It's hard not to cry as I write this, because I have tried so damn hard for so long to get just one organization to hear the voices of us. I've sent letters and an editorial type biography to New York Presbyterian, detailing what life is like when your parent has BPD. They were all gung ho until they realized that I have No Contact with my mom. I was told that my article or whatever was not "in the spirit of helping people with BPD recover."
So basically, they didn't want their patients to experience reality. And you know what? Incresingly, that is the reality. More and more people with BPD parents are saying enough is enough, get out of my life. Many more are moving to extreme low contact because of the drama, the stress of suicide attempts, and the unhelpful mental health professionals who continually press us to be our parents caretaker. Personally, I think they do this in order to lighten their case loads and because they know that for some of us, our parent won't ever get help. These professionals are washing their hands of our parents and trying to make us responsible for them.
I've written to the NEA-BPD. 3 times. I have never gotten a response. They will gladly take your money for their overpriced coferences, yes, but as for telling you how to get involved? Nope. It seems to be some sort of mental health profesisonal fraternity or something. I don't even want to know the hazing initiations there!
I recently contacted NAMI again-we'll see how that goes.
I sent a letter to MindFreedom yesterday. I asked some questions about their mission and such.
It shouldn't be this hard to get involved. It's ridiculous that some major groups are so judgemental about children of the mentally ill. I would like them to walk in my shoes or the shoes of my friends. I *dare* a representative of eitherNY Presbyterian or NEA BPD to contact me and have an actual conversation with me. Not something in e mail, but a sit down, look me in the eye type of coversation. I doubt they will. If they do, I will be sure to tell you about it.
So that's where I have been. I guess it was a sabbatical of sorts, regrouping my thoughts and strength to keep fighting. Someday, somehow no matter what it takes, I will get out voices heard. It won't be a sugary sweet movie or book where all of a sudden I realize she really doesn't mean it, she's so ill, and gee mom let's just let bygones be bygones. It would probably be more on the lines of a book or miniseries that runs the disclaimer "Mature content. Viewer discretion advised."
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Dr, Drew, Nadya Suleman, and BPD
I watched an interesting interview today with the anchor of Showbiz tonight and Dr. Drew Pinksy. Nadya Suleman isn't addicted to fame, she's addicted to herself!
Here ya go-
I admit to being a little stunned that someone is finally saying the words that Dr. Phil was too chicken to say. It still shocks me when BPD is mentioned in the media. What doesn't shock me is that Ms. Suleman is finally being called out for her narcissism. I don't know if she has BPD but I can say she certainly has some traits of that and/or Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
First, has anyone else noticed the ages of her 6 other kids? The kids are ages 7, 6, 5, 3 and twin 2 year olds. Anyone else notice a pattern here? She had another baby each time the previous one started showing the natural inclination of becoming independent and separating from mom. People with NPD or BPD don't see their children as separate human beings. These parents are not able to separate their child from their own selves. While most moms with a PD don't go on to have 14 kids, a lot of moms with a PD do go on to have more children than they can care for (financially, emotionally, etc.) in order to get their own needs met. As soon as one child becomes independent they have/adopt another.
I think that's a big part of Nadya's problem. She has spoken about the feelings of loneliness she experienced as a child. She's using these kids to fill a decades old void. It's as if she thinks these kids can go back in time and heal her hurts. A lot of people do this altho not everyone that has kids in order to heal a hurt is mentally ill or has a PD. However, red flags start popping up with people like Ms. Suleman.
She has no job, and says she lives on student loans. She says she doesn't get welfare, but then admits she gets food stamps and assistance from the state because 2 of her kids have special needs. Yeah, Nadya-that's called welfare. When you can't financially take care of any aspect of your children's care and instead have to rely totally on the government, you're on welfare, baby.
That's the other thing that gets me. It's the sense of entitlement she has. That entitlement issue is a hallmark of PD behaviors. This woman feels entitled to collect children as if they were beanie babies! She takes entitlement to a whole new level when she has 8 children at once, knowing they would need special care. And yes, that's a given. The human body was not meant to give birth to litters. Did she think of that? Did she wonder how she would be able to love 14 children, and bond with 8 preemies? Nope. She just wanted the kids, got a good deal at the fertility clinic and figured what the hell, it's a 2 for 1 special.
This woman and my mother are so similiar it's spooky. Mom craves a attention, just like Nadya does. Mom preens for any camera, and Nadya alyways looks put together. No frazzled hair, no towels over the shouldrt, no bags under the eyes like every other mother of small children and newborns would look. What mother of 14 kids has time to prep like?! Oh wait...a mother who has other people caring for her kids.
Mom also has no impulse control whatsoever. It's pretty obvious how this lack of control manifested in Nady'a life.
Mom had and HAS no concept of money. Neither does Nadya. Nadya has already paraded them her children television and her video blog via radaronline.com. While I get it that she needs to make a living, that rationale is like saying the dynamite was there, so I had to blow up the building. This woman HAD a choice. She is continually choosing to sell her kids, plain and simple.
The saddest way mom and this are similiar is that neither should have had any kids at all. These children are here to serve their mom's emtional needs, as my sibling and I were. She can't possible bond with precious babies. That parental bond, whether mother or father, is so important. Unfortuantely for them their lives and independent selves do not count in Nadya's eyes. They have a role to play and Nadya will make sure they do no matter what the cost. This burden of being a parents ethereal dream is a heavy, heavy burden to bear. They are being set up to experience incredible amounts of chaos. Children who live in chaos CONTINUE TO CREATE CHAOS AS ADULTS. They also grow up parentified, angry, and at a high risk for drug and alcohol use. I pretty much went thru all of what I just typed so don't think I pulled that out of nowhere. I am speaking from experienc
Nadya is like a little girl trapped between the ages of 12-14. Little girls can't raise children! They can baby-sit but even then it's for short perioods of time. Many people with a PD are emotionally "stuck" at what was for them a traumatic age. Nadya likes the cute babies, seems reasonably responsible on the surface but...spend some time observing her and you realize her reasoning is flawed. It's the reasoning of a young girl, someone who doesn't have the ability see beyond tomorrow. As someone who was a young girl not so long ago, I can say that my reasoning at 12-14 was pretty much awful. I was like a butterfly, flitting to every new thing but never really finishing anything, not able to commit to a life changing event.
I feel for these kids. They are in for a nightmare and need all the prayes, hugs, and good thoughts we can send them.
Here ya go-
I admit to being a little stunned that someone is finally saying the words that Dr. Phil was too chicken to say. It still shocks me when BPD is mentioned in the media. What doesn't shock me is that Ms. Suleman is finally being called out for her narcissism. I don't know if she has BPD but I can say she certainly has some traits of that and/or Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
First, has anyone else noticed the ages of her 6 other kids? The kids are ages 7, 6, 5, 3 and twin 2 year olds. Anyone else notice a pattern here? She had another baby each time the previous one started showing the natural inclination of becoming independent and separating from mom. People with NPD or BPD don't see their children as separate human beings. These parents are not able to separate their child from their own selves. While most moms with a PD don't go on to have 14 kids, a lot of moms with a PD do go on to have more children than they can care for (financially, emotionally, etc.) in order to get their own needs met. As soon as one child becomes independent they have/adopt another.
I think that's a big part of Nadya's problem. She has spoken about the feelings of loneliness she experienced as a child. She's using these kids to fill a decades old void. It's as if she thinks these kids can go back in time and heal her hurts. A lot of people do this altho not everyone that has kids in order to heal a hurt is mentally ill or has a PD. However, red flags start popping up with people like Ms. Suleman.
She has no job, and says she lives on student loans. She says she doesn't get welfare, but then admits she gets food stamps and assistance from the state because 2 of her kids have special needs. Yeah, Nadya-that's called welfare. When you can't financially take care of any aspect of your children's care and instead have to rely totally on the government, you're on welfare, baby.
That's the other thing that gets me. It's the sense of entitlement she has. That entitlement issue is a hallmark of PD behaviors. This woman feels entitled to collect children as if they were beanie babies! She takes entitlement to a whole new level when she has 8 children at once, knowing they would need special care. And yes, that's a given. The human body was not meant to give birth to litters. Did she think of that? Did she wonder how she would be able to love 14 children, and bond with 8 preemies? Nope. She just wanted the kids, got a good deal at the fertility clinic and figured what the hell, it's a 2 for 1 special.
This woman and my mother are so similiar it's spooky. Mom craves a attention, just like Nadya does. Mom preens for any camera, and Nadya alyways looks put together. No frazzled hair, no towels over the shouldrt, no bags under the eyes like every other mother of small children and newborns would look. What mother of 14 kids has time to prep like?! Oh wait...a mother who has other people caring for her kids.
Mom also has no impulse control whatsoever. It's pretty obvious how this lack of control manifested in Nady'a life.
Mom had and HAS no concept of money. Neither does Nadya. Nadya has already paraded them her children television and her video blog via radaronline.com. While I get it that she needs to make a living, that rationale is like saying the dynamite was there, so I had to blow up the building. This woman HAD a choice. She is continually choosing to sell her kids, plain and simple.
The saddest way mom and this are similiar is that neither should have had any kids at all. These children are here to serve their mom's emtional needs, as my sibling and I were. She can't possible bond with precious babies. That parental bond, whether mother or father, is so important. Unfortuantely for them their lives and independent selves do not count in Nadya's eyes. They have a role to play and Nadya will make sure they do no matter what the cost. This burden of being a parents ethereal dream is a heavy, heavy burden to bear. They are being set up to experience incredible amounts of chaos. Children who live in chaos CONTINUE TO CREATE CHAOS AS ADULTS. They also grow up parentified, angry, and at a high risk for drug and alcohol use. I pretty much went thru all of what I just typed so don't think I pulled that out of nowhere. I am speaking from experienc
Nadya is like a little girl trapped between the ages of 12-14. Little girls can't raise children! They can baby-sit but even then it's for short perioods of time. Many people with a PD are emotionally "stuck" at what was for them a traumatic age. Nadya likes the cute babies, seems reasonably responsible on the surface but...spend some time observing her and you realize her reasoning is flawed. It's the reasoning of a young girl, someone who doesn't have the ability see beyond tomorrow. As someone who was a young girl not so long ago, I can say that my reasoning at 12-14 was pretty much awful. I was like a butterfly, flitting to every new thing but never really finishing anything, not able to commit to a life changing event.
I feel for these kids. They are in for a nightmare and need all the prayes, hugs, and good thoughts we can send them.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Sometimes I Wonder
Sometimes I wonder if my parents understand what they put the 3 of us thru. I know I said I was going to do a some stuff on venting, but this issue is more pressing to me right now. Does it even register to Borderline parents that the chaos they inflict stays with their child well thru adulthood? Does the non parent realize that their fear of being alone or divorced is teaching their child to stay in an abusive relationship? Both of you, Borderline and non parent, are teaching your child to live a miserable life! Why would you want that for your child?
I don't know if it's a generational gap or what. You know, my parents came from the whole generation of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, sticking with a commitment even if kills you, and generally shunning any form of happiness. Not that mine is much better-we pop a pill to control our moods, many of us move in with our parents because it's "too hard" to live in a a crappy apartment when we're young and just starting out, and in general feel entitled to the good life without having to work for it.
I just...I see a lack of understanding even in my own life. I don't think my dad gets it. He continued to stay married to a woman who handed their dtr over to a pedophile. He stayed married to her knowing that her treatment of his children wasn't just bad, it was abusive. He knew that, and he ignored it. He looked away because it was too painful for him to deal with. He let his children become the adults and he the child.
I struggle with that yet today. I don't know how to just relax and...act my age, I guess. I am 30 and I act like I am 60, so I am told. So responsible. So serious. What do I do for fun, people ask. Huh...not much. I never really considered fun was something I could have. That's something I am trying to change, albeit slowly and painfully. After living in fear of being laughed at or humiliated, I am finally ready to just get out and live life. But it's scary, and sometimes like tonight I am angry that I got so ripped off. I can't change it, I know, but I feel like my own parents ripped off my chilhood so they could continue their dance of denial. The video I am attaching is what I wish I my parents, or even just my dad, would say/acknowledge/admit-
I don't know if it's a generational gap or what. You know, my parents came from the whole generation of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, sticking with a commitment even if kills you, and generally shunning any form of happiness. Not that mine is much better-we pop a pill to control our moods, many of us move in with our parents because it's "too hard" to live in a a crappy apartment when we're young and just starting out, and in general feel entitled to the good life without having to work for it.
I just...I see a lack of understanding even in my own life. I don't think my dad gets it. He continued to stay married to a woman who handed their dtr over to a pedophile. He stayed married to her knowing that her treatment of his children wasn't just bad, it was abusive. He knew that, and he ignored it. He looked away because it was too painful for him to deal with. He let his children become the adults and he the child.
I struggle with that yet today. I don't know how to just relax and...act my age, I guess. I am 30 and I act like I am 60, so I am told. So responsible. So serious. What do I do for fun, people ask. Huh...not much. I never really considered fun was something I could have. That's something I am trying to change, albeit slowly and painfully. After living in fear of being laughed at or humiliated, I am finally ready to just get out and live life. But it's scary, and sometimes like tonight I am angry that I got so ripped off. I can't change it, I know, but I feel like my own parents ripped off my chilhood so they could continue their dance of denial. The video I am attaching is what I wish I my parents, or even just my dad, would say/acknowledge/admit-
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