Archive for the ‘memoir’ Category

it’s not my fault

Posted in beginnings, borderline personality disorder, family, memoir, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

The Blame Game.

I’ve made a realization over the past months that my biggest problem isn’t  that I grew up with a Borderline Personality Disorder mother.  Nope.  It’s that I’ve latched on to blaming her and her BPD for all that is wrong and unsavory in my world.

A year ago, I finally found out why I could never have the relationship i yearned for with my parents.  It was incredibly freeing.  ”Thank God, I’m not the crazy one”  But…I fixated on it.  I devoured countless books on BPD and Adult Children of BPD Parents, plus many more general self-help titles.

I was weary from this forced transformation I was attempting.  I wanted to be healed – right now.  RIGHT NOW DAMNIT!

I wanted to get to a point that I could look back from and say, “whew, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with/think about that anymore.”

I will always be that little girl with a whacked out mom.  I’m realizing that this journey of healing is so much like the recovering addict’s journey.  Once an addict, always an addict.  There is no magic pill, or mantra to clean your slate.

Letting go of the blame is part of the healing process for sure.  And honestly, it’s one I could never imagine being able to do.  I was happily loathing them from afar…wishing they would up and decide to move to Timbuktu.

I picked up SARK’s Transformation Soup a month or so ago.  And the words nearly pierced through my heart.  “Stop Blaming Your Mother.”

At first I scoffed, well you don’t know my mother.  Then as I read on, it began to resonate with me.  I was unwillingly for sure.  I stopped reading the book midway through, pulled my bookmark and buried that book behind some old high school year books.

Those words haunted me in my dreams.  In my dreams, my mom and dad were nurturing me, being the parents I have always wished for.  In my dreams, my mom and dad apologized, and in my dreams, I forgave my mom and dad.

The dreams I had previously frequented — the ones where I was yelling and screaming at my parents to get away from me and my kids, the dreams that sometimes even escalated to violence — made sense to me.  I was angry, hurt, confused and I wanted to keep my parents as far from me and my family as possible.

These new love-laced dreams were disturbing.  What was my psyche trying to tell me?

“Heal, sweet Salem, just heal.”

I will never get an apology in real life.  But it’s not relevant any more.  I know who my parents are, and I can accept it {or at least working on accepting it}.

Forgiveness is not about forgetting the past.  It’s about allowing yourself to stop blaming — yourself, your mother, your father…whoever.

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close your eyes, make a wish

Posted in beginnings, borderline personality disorder, family, gray area, memoir, self-discovery, tainted childhood, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 27, 2013 | Leave a Comment »

A wish list from my inner child:

hugs and i love you’s – everyday – heck, multiple times a day even!

books read to me – I don’t ever remember either parent ever reading to me, ever.

a healthy diet – I grew up on processed, refined and pre-packaged junk food – ugh!

cuddle time – like at bedtime or just while watching tv – I hated feeling so alone and disconnected all the time.

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breaking the ice {my memoirs}

Posted in borderline personality disorder, family, memoir, tagged , , , , , , on February 4, 2013 | 1 Comment »

“Your sister has been in a car accident and she is in critical condition.  We just thought we should pass the news on to you…and sometime you should just answer your phone.”

 

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For over two years I haven’t spoken to my parents.  And in early December, this was the message my mom leaves me.  Her voice trembling with emotion, yet she still managed to pull off the spitefulness with her last words.  Because, well, it’s always gotta be somebody else’s fault (good ol’ Borderline Personality Disorder!).  

 I did tighten it up a bit (she had left more details about the hospital and my brother-in-law’s condition) thus the usage of the “…” but otherwise it’s verbatim.

I’m looking forward to sharing more of this story in the future.  But for now, this is my way of breaking the ice.  

 

 

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my groundhog day

Posted in memoir, photography, self-discovery, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 29, 2012 | 2 Comments »

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{taken early morning, August 26, 2010, from my living room window}

It seems like only yesterday I was sitting in this living room, thinking how my life was feeling more and more like that movie Groundhog Day.  I was waiting for E .(nearly 2 weeks overdue) to arrive and part of me was completely terrified for his arrival because deep-down I knew that somehow, someway, giving birth to him was going to be a monumental pivot point in my life – my family’s life.  And not in the typical-new-baby-fashion.

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{my big E. belly! also on August 26, 2010}

Sometimes things just feel indescribably more important than what you think they should feel like.

I felt that it was the one event in my life that would suddenly click into place and “poof”, my Groundhog Day would end and a new course would begin.

(Boy, did it ever!  A near-death experience, traumatic post-partum issues, discovering the whole BPD thing)

I’m so very grateful for my wonderfully simple yet utterly profound life.  My husband.  My kids.  My house.  My dog.  Even my car.  My entire life – in general – in its entirety – from the miniscule to the extraordinary.

I feel like a warrior now – a weary one at times – but still a warrior.

I have returned home from my battles to heal, inside and out.  There will be scars.

There are scars, inside and out.

I will continue to heal, knowing with confidence that I am stronger than I could ever have imagined.

My sword, my shield, hanging proudly above my heart’s mantle.  A reminder to myself and a warning to any threatening forces.

–> I am a warrior <–

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let freedom ring

Posted in family, memoir, self-discovery, why I blog, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 27, 2012 | Leave a Comment »

I’ve been reading through some of my old, personal journal entries lately.  Partly for my therapy sessions and partly because I like to be reminded where I’ve been from time to time.  This one struck me as pretty important, and I think sharing it with the world (you!) is pretty important too.  Just so you know, this is pretty much verbatim from my journal…I’ve only edited out the mis-spellings and some grammar to help it flow better.

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Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The future is now.  And here I am…8 months later and I’m still avoiding a decision.  Stay or Go?  I’m still in the holding pattern.  Probably the biggest, most in-your-face-reason why I avoid this journal.  Fear.

Fear of making a decision.  Fear of making the wrong decision.  Fear of making the right decision.  I never thought I feared change, but this change is so big and life-altering…the best kind of change out there, really.

Transformation lies ahead of me.  I worry.

I worry if “they” will accept my transformation.  I worry if I will be able to stay a good mother and a good wife.

It (this change) will set me free.  At least that’s what I’ve heard.  You know, from those countless intuitive/soul-searching books?  I am FREE.  Who says I can’t continue to live in abundance?

Source: mr-little.com on Pinterest

Sometimes letting go of things no longer needed is the best way to “have more”.  Be more.

I cleaned out half my clothes in my closet over the course of the past year.  Letting go is so invigorating.  But it is so hard to let go of my paycheck.  I feel silly and stupid and greedy all for the same reason.  I want to be with my babies.  I don’t want my parents to have such a major role in my daily/weekly life.  I don’t want to be stuck in the same dysfunctional parent-child relationship as an adult.  I want to feel like I am important.  I am a mother.  And a damn good one to boot.  My parents don’t really see me for who I am.

I want freedom.  But I fear that freedom I crave will imprison me in other ways.  Financial, and as a result, emotionally with Owen.  He says he supports me.  And I think that he really does.  I think that my fear is skewing my judgement, as fear so readily and easily does.  I want to jump down the rabbit hole.  I want to do so with wild abandonment –> I won’t look back.

Owen wants me to ask about a “leave of absence”.  And – really – it does make logical sense.  But emotionally, it is just a connection to the past.  Will it be a strong enough connection with the past to affect my life?  Hmmm….?  Hard to say, really.  I have learned through writing and reading and many serendipitous encounters that I have the sole key to my own happiness.  And I’m finally “getting it”.  Slowly (and sometimes in big waves and rushes of inspiration) I now SEE ME.  I honestly think I NEED to cut the ties of my job, my career.

All of this stuff that surrounds me…it’s just stuff.  My fear is just the “sad-bad-mad” little pill living inside my head.  It’s followed me from my past.  Sure, nothing’s perfect, but it seems like I have been choosing, searching for ways to wallow in pain and wallow in misery.  Seraching for reasons to feel more pitiful.  What a crock of crap!

I am truly blessed.  And I don’t need to find any missing pieces of my soul/my self in this life.  I AM WHOLE.  I was born WHOLE.  Just like D. and B. are whole, pure little souls.  I have that power within me.  I Am Free To Be Me.  I know that I am with who I need to be with on my journey.  Owen, D. and B.  We will travel this journey together.

Anyhow – I just want to purge – everything around me.  I know it doesn’t sound rational, but it’s just spilling out of me.  I want to be in nature.  The pressures of “having” can be overwhelming.  It takes up precious time and precious energy and precious, precious moments of bliss and love.

I don’t want to be so connected to the chaos of the internet and the TV. It’s addictive – and I feel the yearnings and cravings for my “fix” even while I am outside playing with my babies.  I don’t like it.  It makes me feel black and moldy on the inside.  It’s not real.

I want to feel real, present.  I want to feel invigorated.

I am ready to take the leap.  Right now.

I want to purge & release & change everything.

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It still took me another 6 months to finally cut the cord to my career.  My parents were watching my two kids during the two days each week that I was working, which I knew wasn’t healthy for any of us…but I just couldn’t put my finger on exactly why.  This  was written nearly 4 years ago, and it is amazing to me how much has changed since then.  Perhaps this entry was the catalyst for me to finally listen to my intuition and do what was right for me and my family?  

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you’re so vain…

Posted in memoir, self-discovery, why I blog, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 20, 2012 | 6 Comments »

…you probably think this blog is about you.

Well, you’re wrong! It’s about me! (I’m the vain one here!)

Vanity & Aging.

It happens to the best of us. No matter how hard we try to defy time (and gravity!) our bodies insist of sagging and wrinkling and discoloring (age spots, gray hairs).

And I think it’s one of those things – like having kids – that you don’t fully understand until it happens to you. Until more recent years, I never really understood why women would spend hundreds of dollars on those anti-aging elixirs…or even cosmetic surgery!

I always thought I would “age gracefully” – which meant that I would look years younger than I actually was! But, today, at 36 years old, when I look in the mirror, or I see photos of myself, I think, “Who is that woman?!”

I don’t feel old…but I sure do look old!

I know that part of my problem stems from my tumultuous relationship with my own mother. Instead of seeing myself, I see my mom. Damn you, genetics! Don’t get me wrong, she is an attractive woman, but she’s the last person I want looking back at me in my mirror!

This aging thing feels like it just snuck up on me.  I was busy for the past 7 years being a wife and mother (I even juggled career for the first four years!) and unfortunately, I lost myself along the way.  Not entirely, mind you.  But I certainly lost the part that swore she would never “let herself go“.

I have let myself go.  I wear elastic waistbands (oh how I heart thee yoga pants!) 95% of the time…because they’re so comfy and I still have about 15 lbs of baby fat to lose (my baby is almost two now, so that baby fat excuse is getting pretty thin!).  I seldom wear makeup…and my freckles are starting to morph into age spots, not to mention the wrinkles around my eyes and forehead.   Can you say, “Laser surgery is my friend”?

I am fully aware of the “You’re only as old as you feel” adage.  And mentally, I am feeling better than I have in so, so long.  I am very grateful for that.  I do realize that maybe my outward appearance has slipped because I’ve been doing lots of restructuring and sorting out on the inside.  I also realize that I am certainly not alone in my wishful vanities and anti-aging battles.

I’m still me.  That mom-like person looking back at me in the mirror…that’s still me too.  I am a mom (but that does not mean that I am my mom).  Who I am on the outside is not nearly as important as who I am on the inside…but I have a sneaking suspicion now that my insides are humming along my outsides want some much needed (and missed!) attention!

 

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It seems a little shallow and silly to be talking so much about my outsides…but the outside and the inside both play a part in what makes me a whole person!  Society is so hypocritical – expecting supermodel beauty, but telling you how shameful vanity is!  Do you feel like your insides and outsides match/work together?  

Just Write is already in it’s 40th weekly installment…go read some more!

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freedom

Posted in beginnings, family, memoir, self-discovery, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2012 | Leave a Comment »

It is one of the turning points in therapy when the patient comes to the emotional insight that all the love she has captured with so much effort and self-denial was not meant for her as she really was, that the admiration for her beauty and achievements was aimed at this beauty and these achievements and not at the child herself. In therapy, the small and lonely child that is hidden behind her achievements wakes up and asks: “What would have happened if I had appeared before you sad, needy, angry, furious? Where would your love have been then? And I was all these things well. Does this mean that it was not really me you loved, but only what I pretended to be? The well-behaved, reliable, empathic, understanding, and convenient child, who in fact was never a child at all? What became of my childhood? Have I not been cheated out of it? I can never return to it. I can never make up for it.” (Drama of the Gifted Child, Alice Miller, 1996, p.39)

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I am that child – all grown up.

Source: tumblr.com via Pinterest

 

I am grieving.

In my own rebellious way right now.

I don’t want to cry for that little girl that never felt good enough.
That just wanted so desperately to make her mom and dad happy or proud – that sweet, little, innocent girl that felt she had to earn their unconditional love.

Fuck them!
Nope, she did not deserve any of that!

I didn’t deserve any of that!

Right now, I just want to…

Set. Her. Free.

Go crazy sweet baby girl!

Do whatever your little heart desires.

Make a mess!

(And make mistakes…it’s OK, I promise.)

Color outside the lines – backwards and sideways while your at it!

Let your heart soar — let it fly away!

You are free.

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If you’re new here, let me explain some stuff.  I started therapy awhile back because I thought I was living with too much anxiety.  I had some life-changing experiences and thought the trauma was still affecting my life.  However, I have learned that my mother suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and that my father is co-dependant and enabling of the situation, the illness.   Anyways…this is where I am at right now.  Angry and sad all at once.  But, I also feel like a huge weight is lifting from my life.  Thanks for stopping by to read! ~ S.A.A.

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everything zen

Posted in family, fun, memoir, summer, why I blog, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2012 | 2 Comments »

Zen – (n) 1. contemplation of one’s essential nature to the exclusion of all else is the only way of achieving pure enlightenment

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I am settling into summer’s essence. Sunshine warming my skin, vibrant blue skies above, and the hum of life all around me.

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We walked down to the school-park again this morning. It’s quiet and I love watching E. wander around picking dandelions.

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My eyes, my ears…my senses are so much more alive right now than I ever remember them being before. I watched my little people running and playing and rolling down the grassy hills. I thought about joining in, I really did.

And maybe I should have.

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Except that it felt so inexplicably perfect to sit on the steps and watch them be them.

They are happy. They are content. And they are so full of love.

I lost myself in the moment, just floating above it all while a true and deep sense of calm radiated itself through my body.

I don’t really have words for it. Just Be comes to mind, yet it was so much more and so much less – in the true nature of Zen.

I do know this…it was good.

{just write}

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Have you ever found yourself truly in the moment? Does time ever stand still, only for you to realize it after the fact? I’m not talking “sci-fi” here, I’m talking real life. Have you found that place where you are safe to lose yourself? For me, my kids take me there all the time – and so does my free-writing/journaling…sometimes even when I’m sewing I feel myself floating away. What about you?

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restless

Posted in dreams, family, gray area, memoir, self-discovery, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 7, 2012 | 2 Comments »

The shades are drawn, and the skinny lamp shines on me in my favorite chair. Outside, the thunderstorms are raging, pounding rain (maybe it’s hail?) and flashes that light up the dark house. Everyone is tucked in, including Owen, whom I heard faintly snoring as I dried off and lotioned up after spending 15 minutes of solace, washing away the day.

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The book sits beside me. I’ve been highlighting as I read along (something I haven’t done since college). I am finding so much truth in those pages, but my progress is slow. The truth can sometimes be like eating your brussel sprouts: you know it’s healthy for you, but you still find yourself cringing and gagging down each “rotten-tangy-sweet” bite.

The truth has been bubbling up in my dreams, filling them with chaos and mass destruction…a reflection of some of my distant childhood memories. My mother, the epicenter of my chaos and the destruction of my self-esteem.

These words and pages I’m reading are filled with explanations. I get tingly-queasy with each realization, snapping off the highlighter cap and fervently marking the page. “This is why I am the way I am,” I think to myself.

But the high of validation is waning now, and I’m longing for words of healing.

Every night, the same prayer, “I just want to move on, please help me heal and move on.”

Inside, I sometimes scream, “Heal already damn it!”, as I imagine myself wiping my hands clean, then burning the towel with the disgusting stains of shame, guilt and a childhood lost.

My logical mind reminds me, with clarity and constance, that a lifetime of emotional pain can not be healed in a mere three weeks.

I will heal.

With love and with patience -

for myself
from myself

I will become whole.

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{just write}

The book I’m reading is called Stop Walking on Eggshells, by Mason & Kreger. I highly recommend it if someone you love and care about has borderline personality disorder (BPD) … even if they have not been diagnosed or refuse treatment, this book will help you to begin sorting through the chaos.

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borderline

Posted in beginnings, family, memoir, self-discovery, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 1, 2012 | 3 Comments »

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. ~Eleanor Roosevelt

I’ve been living with an inferiority complex for over three decades. I have been consciously aware of this since I was about 12.

To remedy it, I have tried to be more and do more, and basically just be perfect.

All. The. Time.

I’ve always thought it was me, that I was my toughest critic.
That I was just born so serious and so anxious and so un-fun-loving.

Then I told my therapist this story. Which made her sit up a little straighter, scribble notes down, and ask more questions about my relationship with my parents.

We all have broken bits and pieces from our childhood. But what happens when you find out your own childhood was toxic, laced with mental illness, damaging you in so many ways?

I am 36 years old, a wife and a mother to three, and I am still terrified of my parents.

And now I finally know the truth.

Borderline Personality Disorder.

My mother has “high-functioning, invisible” Borderline Personality Disorder.  And my dad, well, he’s all shades of co-dependent and enabling.

I’ve spent a lifetime walking on eggshells around them, trying to keep them happy, trying to keep the unpredictable fits of rage at bay.  But nothing was ever good enough.

It’s no wonder I have issues with anxiety.

While they will likely never seek help, and will continue to blame those closest to them for all that is wrong (both real and imagined), I am determined to heal from my lifetime of shame, guilt and chaos.

Suddenly, my world makes so much more sense. It doesn’t excuse anything that has happened. I will never be able to have my parents in my life – I will protect my children from that toxic world to no end. But, being able to label their dysfunction (because I’ve suspected it since I was 18) has been incredibly validating for me.

I can finally step back and say, “I am not the horrible person they think I am, I am OK.“

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I am forever grateful for Aidan Donnelly Rowley’s post. While my life experiences may be completely different than her own – reading her words opened up a door in my soul that I had bolted shut so many years ago. Her post, her words, sharing her own personal journey, helped me take my first steps of healing.

Thank you, Aidan, so very much.

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