Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Message from my Mom


I thought this was cute and maybe it might provide a little hope to all the parents out there with sons and daughters diagnosed with BPD. And maybe it'll give some foresight to the sons and daughters with BPD that feel so misunderstood by their parents. 

Growing up I was fantastically Acting Out, aggressively angry, BPD. My parents and I would have screaming fights, literally, every night we saw each other when I was in high school. To the point where they threatened me with kicking me out and I ran away. 

It gets better. 

It's taken a lot of time, and small doses, but especially once I started this blog and really began to understand on a deeper level what was going on with me my relationship with my parents has improved. 

Remember last time I went home for Zoe's wedding? I spent a much larger amount of time (willingly!) with my mother than I usually would. Afterwards she e-mailed me this: 


“Just wanted to say how happy you made me when you came home in August!  I had a great time wine tasting.  It was so fun helping you and being able to talk and do stuff with you!  I wish I could have more!  You are so important to me!  I love you so much.  You have no idea what a wonderful person you are!   (-: “

It may not seem like much. But growing up… when I felt so alone, so misunderstood, like my parents were out to get me, my greatest enemies, and people that I truly hated at times… we’ve come such a long way. Looking back I am forever grateful that they never gave up on me. Even when it seemed hopeless and we’d never reconcile, they never gave up. I can only imagine how difficult it was for them having to deal with me, we fought constantly, but they never left. And slowly, as I’ve gotten older, gotten through therapy (by my choice), things have become a world of different.


Don’t give up. Don’t lose hope. It may seem dark and never ending, but it can change.




P.S. Same with the relationship I had with my brother and sister. A terrible destructive mess growing up. Now? I love them more than I can stand some times.  


Yes, this is my real wrist, with a real tattoo (artistic skill courtesy of my sister, haha) The red out spots are the name of my brother and sister. My sister and I both have this on our wrists. I wanted it on the same wrist as her, but I have too much scar tissue on that one and I refuse to cover up my scars. I love my family. 

3 comments:

  1. Yay for happy stuff. That was a nice email to get :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Bonuses of not getting matching wrists:

    -Your sister is probably left handed and you are probably right handed. You both have it on your dominant hand's wrist. Nice!

    -If you stand or sit near each other you can hold your wrists together to show the tattoo. Bonus!

    ReplyDelete
  3. I just wanted to say that while this will never be my reality, it definitely gives a lot of hope and joy see something like this... Well, to see your entire blog, actually. Whether or not I have BPD, a lot resonates with me.

    ReplyDelete

Leave me a comment! It makes me feel good and less paranoid about talking to myself =)

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