Re: my mother's story

[Guest guest]

Hugs for :

{{{{{{{{}}}}}}}}

Your story is so sad. In fact, it kind of left me speechless

(for once <grin>). I just wanted to tell you that you have a

safe and supportive place here to work through all of this.

I know what you mean about the messed up sexuality. I had a

different experience from you (BF that raped me repeatedly), but

I'm definitely messed up as a result, and it really saddens me.

I have a lot of shame about it; that I'm not normal, " damaged

goods " , and can't be a " good wife " to my husband. Thankfully,

he's very understanding, but it still causes me a lot of pain.

I'm holding on to the hope that I will eventually move past this

and regain my sexuality. Sometimes it's very discouraging

though.

Take care,

Anon

--- nicole_messages@... wrote:

> Hi everybody!

>

> I just found something that is blowing my mind and I needed

> to share it. My BP mother is (terrifyingly enough) a

> therapist. She has written a book. I just read this

> exerpt from the book. This is a true story of something

> that happened to me. First, let me give you the true life

> setup:

>

> When I was age 7, my NPD father and BP mother got divorced.

> Within 6 months my father remarried another low

> functioning BP. And a custody battle begun.

>

> The next five years involved many tortures... I was a very

> imaginative child and my memories of this time are almost

> like fantasy novels. Wicked step mothers. Evil wizards

> who opened your soul as if it were a chest in their attic

> and devoured what they wanted. I watched it all happen to

> me. Probably not unlike a child left awake to watch

> Mengele operate upon them. Invisible evil spells. I was a

> shadow that hid. It has been a long time, and I've been

> trying to reconstruct what has happened. I've been trying

> to get grown-up words and grown-up understanding to that

> kid inside me. It is a very wierd feeling. Because I can

> remember things... but then I forget them for a while. Or

> I can see them, but I don't know how anything is connected.

> I can't find or feel the interconnections of cause and

> effect. It is a very fragmented area in my memory. No

> doubt it resembles a desolate and destroyed combat zone.

> The wind blows. There is very little life out in the open.

> And only one or two haggard tree branches are still there

> to sway in the breeze.

>

> At 8, some of the worst tortures were happening. At 10, my

> NPD father had a breakdown and was hospitalized. So my BP

> mom got custody of my BP bro and me. My BP mom never

> mentioned the custody battle was over. She just said, " You

> don't have to go to Dad's house anymore. " So my BP brother

> and I were relieved. And we never said a word or did

> anything about it in the next two years because we were

> hoping no one would remember us and make us go back. At 11

> or 12, my BP mother re-introduced us to our NPD father and

> BP step-mom and the torture began again. My mother kept

> saying how there was nothing she could do, but I'm not sure

> I believe any of that anymore. I think my mother could

> have stopped making us visit and ended the torture at

> anytime during the 2nd half of the custody battle. When I

> was 12, almost 13; I talked my NPD/BP father (he was NPD

> before his breakdown, NPD/BP after) into leaving my BP

> stepmom. I did it because the physical abuse was

> escalating. Death was coming. I could smell it like a

> wraith walking towards us as time ticked by. And each

> step, one by one, my father led us down the road to it. I

> really think he wanted to die. He dragged me with him so

> he wouldn't have to die alone.

>

> I remember, vaugely, the conversation I had that got him

> out. I remember knowing that I was playing all of my

> cards. One last final hand. Playing that last ace I had

> saved throughout the game. I knew that I had emerged...

> That if this conversation failed and my dad didn't leave,

> I would be dead very soon. My lo functioning BP step mom

> would have killed me. Previously, my BP step mom had

> identified my BP mom as her rival and enemy to be

> destroyed. But she was so wrong. So very wrong. _I_ was

> her competition and she didn't even know it. I sat at her

> table eating breakfast every morning. The imp. My

> father's secret imp. In all likelihood the only female

> person that my father ever shared his so called love with.

> Perhaps the closest thing to love he could experience.

> Afterall, I was only a baby when it all began. Nothing to

> fear from a defensless usable baby, right? My lo

> functioning BP step mom would have killed me because

> another woman is the one and only thing that threatened to

> make dad abandon her. Apparently, the card I was playing,

> the card I didn't even consciously know about, was the

> covert incestuous affair that my father had been quietly

> having with me all my life. My father would have NEVER

> left a wife for his children or himself, only for another

> woman. And I became that woman. My sexuality is

> profoundly screwed up to this day. Actually, I am still

> trying to find it. It lurks, like I lurked, forbidden, a

> thing to be used, then discarded at will. The whole thing

> was very very wierd. Always invisible. My father was an

> evil sociopathic wizard whose spells were always invisible.

>

> My mother had this delusion that if " we " just rescued my

> dad from the " evil step mom " that our whole family would be

> restored. " We " of course meant me. My mom is always

> ordering me about with what " we " will do for her. She has

> finally stopped in the last year after " we " have been

> fighting with her alot about that. I feel like Gollum's

> ring. " My precious... where are we, my precious? "

>

> After I " rescued " my dad everything was " wonderful " again.

> Within 6 months dad had another woman again. At least this

> time, soon-to-be wife number 4 was not BP. Or maybe she

> is, She is utterly devoid, and shops a whole lot. But for

> the most part she is a 12 year old girl living in a cutesy

> 50 year old cheerleader body. All of the craziness started

> again. Not the life threatening stuff, because wife 4 was

> really quite mellow compared to former psycho stepmom. But

> it all started happening again. And I realized that the

> " bad guy " hadn't been my " evil step mom " . It had been my

> own father the whole time. DAD DID THAT. That was while I

> was 13. At 14, I started to be depressed. I mean deathly

> depressed. My father's response was, " Stop acting like a

> smacked ass, you twit. " Among many other jewels... I was

> being " hormonal " . I was entering " the phase " -- apparently

> every 14 year old girl in his family has a life threatening

> depression at age 14. They throw her out of the house, she

> lives on the street, then comes crawling back " reformed "

> and ready to be used again by the time she is 18. I never

> went back. (And they've finally, now that I'm 24, absorbed

> that I won't EVER be coming back. Sometimes I imagine them

> waiting by the door checking their watches over and over.

> Then shaking their wrist believing their watch has the

> wrong time. heh heh heh)

>

> That is the set up for this exerpt. My mother is refering

> to a time in my life when I was 14 years old, living at her

> house. She also believes at this time that she is an

> awesome, wonderful, " I am the greatest! " , clinical social

> worker. She was staying in the city overnight having

> affairs with clients. Or non-sexual emotional affairs with

> her boss, leaving her kids very neglected. My med/lo

> functioning BP brother's violence towards me was

> escalating. He was trying to (mock?) kill me at least twice

> maybe three times or so. Also, my mother took on every

> single violent borderline male client in the unit. She

> knew my bro was borderline, she knew what violent male

> borderlines were capable of.

>

> My mother changed my name from to . I was so

> desperate for help, I talked to a poster in my bedroom.

> Her exerpt:

>

> >>

> [title of section:] ET

>

> Yes, I do mean ET, the little alien in the movie. ET saved

> 's life. She was in an unbearable situation. She had

> no way out. She had no one to talk to. There was no

> friend who could possibly understand, no family available,

> no access to a therapist. was in a deep situational

> depression and could not get out of the situation. A

> poster of ET was on her wall. She talked to him. She told

> him stories, feelings, ideas.

> >>

>

> I can't even figure out what the hell my mother is

> thinking!!! " I have no way out?' I'm already out!!! I

> got myself out, you b*itch!!! By being emotionally and

> intellectually gang raped!!! Now I need support to talk

> about it. But no, my mother wants me weak and isolated.

> She can feed off of my when I'm weak. When I'm weak, she

> can steal more of my identity. More of my ideas. " I have

> no one to talk to? " I was talking to her. I had friends

> at school. I tried to talk to them, but none of them

> understood. My mother is (terrifyingly enough) a

> professional mental health person. It didn't occur to her

> to get her kids into therapy?!? Not even the school

> counselor? " No family available? No access to a

> therapist? " This is so delusional. Even in her own mind

> at the time I was talking to her. SHE was a family member

> who was a therapist! This scares me. It really really

> scares me. Because in this book my mother is acting like I

> was one of her clients or something and she is giving a

> case study. If you ask her why she won't say she's talking

> about her daughter she would say because of

> confidentiality. Is that true? Maybe she just doesn't

> want to fess up to the whole story because it's obscene.

>

> And you know the most obscene part? She's actually using

> this in her book that's all about telling the world all of

> her great ideas and proving her latest identity cloak that

> she is a great therapist.

>

>

> >>

> eventually came to understand the situations in her

> life that caused the depression. Now she knows herself

> amazingly well.

> >>

>

> This is an example of the distortion that fills my mind.

> My mother has completely violated every aspect of my

> identity and she rewrites it constantly.

>

> I am still trying to sort out what caused the 14 yr old

> depression. Gee! I've got a good guess! But I don't know

> what caused it. Specifically. I think I may even have

> been depressed because I wasn't " good enough " for my father

> to " want me all the way " . That might be in there. This

> whole thing is pretty fricking sick. I don't even know

> what the hell is going on with my sexuality. I barely know

> who I am. I sometimes lie awake at night swirling,

> drowning in my mother because I can't tell the difference

> between me and her. April 19th 2001 p.2426 of my journal

> was the first time I ever wrote a thought and knew it was

> my own. Felt my own voice. Knew it was me. (Did I

> mention this list is quite lovely and helps me alot?)

>

> >>

> She still gets depressed sometimes. I suspect she still

> talks to ET. And she keeps solving problems, one by one,

> so that she can buld a life without unbearable sitations.

> She is building a life that meets her needs.

> >>

>

> No, you crazy fricking psycho b*itch. I don't talk to ET.

> I practice making friends, learning adult words and

> frameworks (like BPD!) to understand what the hell happened

> to me. Sorting out your disgusting violating projections

> from this deathly alone imagination-drenched inner child of

> mine who has been given no words and sits, like one of

> those passive half dead kids in the Romanian orphanages.

>

> But the b*tch is right about one thing. I WILL build a

> life that meets my needs.

>

>

__________________________________________________