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[personal profile] beemayhem
So it's been quiet since... April whatever. Whenever my last post was. I made it through Mother's Day, her birthday, and Father's Day. It was sad and I wasn't sure how to handle it so I just stayed silent and nursed/honored my sadness and disappointment. Hopefully next year will be...easier? Better? Inconsequential?
Things are frustrating in therapy. The theme between that and all BPD family coping books is "Dealing with this miserable asshole because you're stuck with them". And seriously? Fuck that. I feel bad this is how my mother works, but she refuses to see herself as having any part of the issue (as I'm the crazy one, ALWAYS). How can I have a relationship with *anyone* who thinks I'm crazy and out to get them? How can I have a relationship with someone who berates, mocks, disrespects and treats me like an extension of themselves who is misbehaving, like a phantom limb? I can't right now. I can't for the foreseeable future. So all of the crap about "When you have to deal with ____" or "When _____ starts the bull" is just... No. It makes me feel trapped to think that this is my lifelong cross to bear. I was born to someone with a mental illness, thus I must spend the rest of my life miserable and having crazy episodes barfed all over me constantly? I don't think so.
I'm not trying to say my mother or anyone else with BPD is bad or intolerable or what have you. I'm saying this is not a scene I'm interested in participating in. I think that's fair. I'm also not interested in hanging out with racists, sanctimonious vegans, fundamentalist anythings, or people who majored in broadcast journalism. It's just a matter of who one prefers to keep company with, I suppose, and I have never preferred my mother's. I can remember saying from about the age of 12 that while I knew I loved my mom, I would never choose her to associate with if I hadn't been stuck with her (ok, more like: "I love her, she's my mom of course, but I wouldn't hang out with that bitch on my own if you paid me!" I was a shitty teenager, duh).
The other frustrating component of therapy is not knowing what I'm supposed to do. I feel like I've gotten to this big salt flat of my brain, and am kind of in a holding pattern, feeling empty and waiting for something. A confrontation. An attempt at reconciliation. A death, an injury, an event that forces me out. I'm not ready, I just think I don't know what to do. Growing up, when things were calm and devoid of an episode for this long, I knew to expect one soon. It was like my mother couldn't handle the calm and had to cause some dramatic, self centered stage show to keep herself interested in life and everyone's attention, for better or worse, on herself. So how I know to deal with calm is to wait and be on my guard. Except for now, there's not much guarding, and things are quiet. It's scary.

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BeeMayhem

July 2012

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