Warning: Painful Story (Re: all good child)

[Guest guest]

Hi everyone,

This post describes some abuse so please stop reading if you don’t want to

risk being upset.

I was the all good child for about 5 years (from around 9 to around 13). My

fada spousified me (turned me into a wife substitute) since my mother was

split all bad. These were horrific years for me. soul destroying years. He

was a terrible drunk and would turn really mean after two drinks. My BP

sister shares this trait of turning mean when she drinks. He also very

likely was manic depressive with manic episodes that he was self-medicating

with alcohol. Ie, he was psychotic or raging or depressed much of the time.

As the all good child it was my job to placate him while mom hid at her

friends; houses or wherever it was she went. I had a strong sense too of

responsibility to protect my younger sisters by keeping him as calm as

possible. It was genuinely horrific. One of those years, in a diary my

sister kept, he was double D drunk (this means very drunk and psycho raging

crazy) something like one out of every 3 days. The other one out of three

days he was either D or a ½ D (my sister’s system for coding his behaviour).

I had to sit up with him half the night on these D days and listen to his

drunk ramblings and rages and psychotic musings about spirits and ghosts

talking to him, and repetitions of his small repertoire of “frozen memory”

stories over and over and over again. I would sit there with tears streaming

down my face while he droned on. I had to feign interest, attention,

sympathy, empathy, understanding, support, and so on or else he would erupt

into rage and the rages were like tornadoes. He would literally throw our

furniture onto the street. Smash anything he could. These years are, I

think, the main source of my “black hole” feelings. I don’t know how I

survived. One night, I remember praying in absolute desparation to God

because I was on the brink of losing myself in despair. Words can’t describe

my level of despair. I wasn’t even a teenager yet. I literally heard the

voice of God speak to me. The voice said “Calm Thyself”. And I felt calmed.

This only happened once but I think it saved my soul..

I am not going to discuss the sexual abuse here.

Part of being all good was that my fada would stand me in front of the

livingroom mirror and go on about how perfect I was with my “aryan”

features. I don’t know where he picked up the nazi racism stuff and I do

wonder about that. Was he involved with some kind of organization when he

was younger? I do wonder. A sick b*stard anyway you look at him. This

“perfection” was the special attention I received for being all good. See

what I mean?

The only thing worse than being split good was being split bad.

The only thing worse than being split bad was being split good. Two sides of

the same coin. Both horrific. One of the FLEAs or PTSD things I have

struggled with all my life is a kind of phobic terror of not getting enough

sleep. I am getting over this though with the employment of CBT techniques.

Colleen

Re: " all good " child

> Was anyone here " the all good " child? What was that like? I want

> not to fear and hate my sister..and maybe understanding her is the

> key. She is very controlling...and we refer to her as the " Queen

> Bee " but in my heart, I think she was damaged as badly as myself.

> I sent my other sister an e-mail suggesting she read UBM and now

> the " all good " sister puts up daily away messages for me to read

> that it is I who is BPD and my nada's death has triggered my

> illness. Total hogwash for sure..but hurts none the less. I have

> quit reading them..but I am hurt.

> Anyone?

>

> Elyse

I can remember being the " all good " child. I think most of the

difference between me and my (usually " no good " ) sister was that nada

could control me with fear. My sister may have been afraid of her,

like she may have been afraid of being hit or raged at, but she never

seemed to be afraid of nada being angry at her. I can remember being

so afraid that nada would be angry or disappointed in me, that I

would do or not do almost anything. It didn't keep me from being

raged at or hit either, but I tried so hard to keep nada not angry.

I thought it was my responsibility. Many times, that caused a huge

problem between me and my sister.

My sister is way more controlling than I am, she was " all good " more

often once we were " grown ups. " I was more submissive always, I just

wanted everyone to be happy, even if it meant ignoring what I

needed. I didn't even know I needed anything besides " needing "

everyone to get along. So I can't imagine my sister was ever afraid

of me, I'm sure she was hurt by me " taking nada's side. " I've

apologized many, many times, even while it was going on.

[Guest guest]

To all that are on the list:

Thank you so much again and again for sharing your stories and for listening

to mine. We are all going up the learning curve together and I wish I had

found you earlier. You are strenthening my resolve and helping me find ways

to heal and recognize the fleas. RE: fleas. I have such guilt over them

that I've done such stupid things to sabotage myself. I wish I had known

then what I know now. But now is better than never. PS to all who helped me

with my problems with my 17 year old son. thanks We are much more okay now

but I still don't have the kind of relationship with him I want. Many wrote

to tell me that his behavior is pretty standard for a 17 year old boy. I

also admired his independence but now I'm feeling left out. Is that fleas on

me? Please advise. PS to those with autoimmune disease my husband

the psychologist thinks that hypnosis and relaxation helps. I recently read

in one of the psych journals a study on AIDs patients who underwent hypnosis.

their T-cells increased. pretty powerful stuff that mind body connection.

anyway you have very little to lose. lol

[Guest guest]

Hi Malene-

wow- you guys were way ahead of me. I never thought in terms of nada and fada

being mentally ill until very recently (49 next week!). I just thought of them

as brutally unfair, deceptive, scarey and mean throughout my childhood. I knew I

never wanted to be like them. It is a little easier for me now that I know they

were/are ill but the scars will never go away- maybe fade a bit! }

Sending lots of heart-energy your way- take care,

Christy

Re: Warning: Painful Story (Re: " all good " child)

In a message dated 5/1/03 4:55:43 PM Pacific Daylight Time, buddie@...

writes:

Hey Colleen,

This one little statement from you really intrigues me. I also feel, I had no

choice but to learn about psychology and start to understand what happened,

and ultimately myself.

The other choice would have probably ended me in mental illness, maybe even a

personality disorder, who knows, maybe even BPD.

But what is it then that you and I and others are aware that they have to

make that choice, and some just cant see that choice and then ends up in

total self destruction?

What makes us different from them? Why do we feel like we just *CANT* choose

to lose ourselves to that degree? Yet they feel they just *CANT* choose to

help themselves and get better?

I have wondered about this for most of my life..... Why is it that some

people no matter how bad off they are choose to get better, and some people

never can make that

choice????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

?????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Malene

> I believe that I had

> absolutely no choice accept to make this kind of journey or lose my

> mind/heart/soul.

[Guest guest]

In a message dated 5/6/03 5:58:18 AM Pacific Daylight Time,

mh51867@... writes:

Hey Michele,

I liked your post. The old nature vs. nurture question.

I do have an interest in this question because I was adopted. I was raised

all my life with my adoptive family in a northern european country. Yet I was

born in the US by a Jewish/American couple. I later managed to find and meet

my birth parents.

So I have basically had plenty of opportunity to observe myself within the

contexts both of my birth culture and heritage and the heritage I was raised

with.

I never felt truly, honestly 'at home' in my old country. I couldnt help it.

I looked different, thought different, reacted different. As a kids I had to

continually learn not to " touch so much " . With the Jewish side of my birth

family touch and a lot of it is normal, in Northern Europe I was invading

peoples personal space even as a child. Yet, it was a painful lesson for me

to learn.

In my adoptive family, on my mom's side there is a lot of mental illness. I

know I have mentioned the array of it before so I wont go into detail.

However, most of my adoptive mom's immediate FOO is mentally ill or

borderline mentally retarded. Thats not a pretty picture.

In my birth family there is only one instance of mental illness on my birth

dad's side.

It seems I have avoided the " mental illness bug " as well.

In so many ways, it would seem that this stuff is all related to genetic

disposition. To me, genetic material does play a HUGE role in who I am, I

simply cant deny that.

In some ways it was eerie to meet my birth parents, and even siblings.

(eventhough we are no longer in contact - their choice) We had so many things

in common in our personality make up, in who we are, in how we do things, in

how we respond to things etc, etc.

Then, yet in the middle of all that discovery of incredible things we had in

common, some opinions and traits in me stood up so clearly and obviously from

my upbringing.

It was an oddyssey to notice this.

But then there is my husband. He is adopted too. Although he never found his

birth parents, simply because he never had the urge to. He is so entrenched

with his adoptive family, he never ever felt anything except perfectly at

home with them. Is that because he was so lucky to get to a family without

mental illness, and one which personality makeup might just have jived well

with his genetic disposition? Or, is it because for some genetic material is

stronger than for others?

Wouldnt that be an interesting wrinkle to add to the mix as well. Not only is

it independent and unpredictable which genetic material gets activated and

used based on our environment. It is also independent which is the strongest

- nature vs. nurture.

But when all of this is said, when we acknowledge taht for some the " mentally

ill " genes gets activated, and for others it doesnt, mainly based in

environmental stimuli. Is it that somewhere along the line we actually do

have a choice that we make? A choice that for some leads them into mental

illness, and for others they manage to make the choice that leads out of

mental illness? I mean, I have felt at times in my life that I looked down a

road, and I had this inner feeling of, either I STOP this path RIGHT NOW, or

I will become insane. Often me knowing I had to stop some path involvmed me

then taking some kind of risk. Has those who are now mentally ill also at

some point had such a moment? If yes, why was it that I was able to stay on

the side of sanity (albeit sometimes narrowly) and they were not?

Just that I was more lucky in those choices? That I was more aware where the

choice would take me?

<sigh>, and yes, I know, there isnt any easy answers to this. I just wish to

God I had some kind of understanding why my mom ended up in the hell she is

in, and dragging me into as well....

Warm regards

Malene

>

> Malene, I read this and wanted to chime in my (humble) opinion...I

> think mental illness is a biological at its core – genetics is a big

> component. It's not the " only " component, tho. Psychological

> disposition (I like the way Colleen put it and totally agree – our

> constitutions), our environment, triggering events that might or

> might not occur. All these things in millions of subtle combinations

> according to each individual. In many instances, I don't think

> there's a choice. I do know wholeheartedly that when a person is

> truly mentally ill, there's definitely not a choice to be that way.

> I also think there are varying degrees of mental illness (stages

> maybe) of how deeply lost you are to mental illness. When the heart

> is sick, the brain is there to tell you to go get help quick. When

> the brain is sick, where's the failsafe? What is there to tell it to

> go get help? Someone said it's sad that bipolar and schizophrenia

> are recognized as physical, neurological illness beyond the person's

> control (to some extent – there's still a LOT of stigma for those

> folks as well) and the person with a personality disorder is thought

> of as weak and evil. It's hard for me to write this – because as a

> knee jerk reaction, I, myself, think my mom is a weak and evil

> person. But if I stop and really contemplate this – I know she's

> severely mentally ill and while there were times in her life where I

> think she definitely could have made different choices, sought help,

> etc., I also know the nature of her illness keeps her from doing

> that. When a person with bipolar or schizophrenia loses touch with

> reality, that's called a psychotic break. I think our BPD parents

> are also at times also suffering from psychotic breaks with reality.

> Something in their brain is broken which causes them to have a

> thought disorder - as well as the personality disorder aspect of

> their illness. I know my mom has a completely different reality than

> mine – and I know that I used to think I was insane – because our

> realities were so different and I assumed it was me that was crazy.

> Now I know it's her.

>

>

[Guest guest]

Is it that somewhere along the line we actually do

have a choice that we make? A choice that for some leads them into mental

illness, and for others they manage to make the choice that leads out of

mental illness? I mean, I have felt at times in my life that I looked down a

road, and I had this inner feeling of, either I STOP this path RIGHT NOW, or

I will become insane. Often me knowing I had to stop some path involvmed me

then taking some kind of risk. Has those who are now mentally ill also at

some point had such a moment? If yes, why was it that I was able to stay on

the side of sanity (albeit sometimes narrowly) and they were not?

Hi Malene,

This is my experience too. There have been times in my life that I

made a bad choice and I knew full well that it was the wrong choice. Then in

paid the consequences. There have also been times when it was crystal clear

that my “sanity” or peace of mind or soul integrity was at stake and I made

the right choice however hard or scared I was. The right choice is usually

harder in my experience. Usually involves uncertainty, risk, delayed

gratification, acceptance of the unknown. Sometimes it has involved giving

up something or someone and so the experience of loss.

I think that the capacity to learn from mistakes and grow/mature

emotionally is something that folks afflicted with BPD have to work really

hard at.

Tonight, I am sad and quiet and tired. I have been behaving strangely

today – sort of hypersensitive, intense in my connections to others,

generating unpleasant responses. Not sure if it is FLEAs or if, despite what

everyone says, I really am BPD myself or have a lot of BPD traits. Is it

possible that I could have BPD but, due to all the various forms of healing

I have pursued during my adult years, I have grown a fair bit – enough that

people don’t see the BPD? For example, I phoned a very good friend tonight

and asked whether we are still friends. She asked me why I was asking that

and said that this seems to be the question of the year for me (i.e., I have

asked her that several times this year) and that it is weird. She pointed

out that we have been friends for many years.

I dunno. I feel a sense of rejection or withdrawal from these friends.

My partner noticed something too. But they do have a history of withdrawing

when they are stressed or having conflict in their relationship so who

knows? Anyway, I felt like a jerk when I got off the phone. Not so much

angry with myself as embarassed and confused. Why am I doing this?

And isn’t it a pretty BPD kind of thing to do? Also, the stuff about

suspecting my sister of stealing photos from me. What is that about?

I just found out that my father has been treated for skin cancer. My

“fada”. Tonight, alone, after I apologized and got off the phone with my

friend, I felt wounded and I wondered if that is what my sister feels like

when she does her weird, wonky stuff, like phoning up out of the blue and

saying mean things. My sister and I called each other today and spoke

briefly once or twice. We’re going to get together for a nice walk in the

next day or two, maybe tomorrow.

We had discussed how we would feel if our father died. She had said

that she wouldn’t feel anything and I said that I thought it would have a

pretty serious impact and both of us might be surprized by the intensity of

our reaction. A day or two later, sis said that she things I was right about

this.

Everything I ever wanted when I was growing up, friends, a nice house,

safety, normalcy, fun and happiness and to be one of those people who smiles

( a smiler), a person with something in her eyes, has come true for me as

an adult. Except it turned out that I had to create this for myself…that I

could never have this through or with my FOO. I am resigned to this. I have

been resigned to this fact for many years.

The weird thing is that I have been feeling off today and when I was

alone in the quiet and dark of the livingroom with my two dogs while my

partner is at work, I started to cry. I am very sad because my father has

started to die. I don’t know why but I feel like he is starting to die. It

breaks my heart that he is still “mean” and, most of all, that he never

tried to heal our relationship. Remember in The Colour Purple when the man

who married whoopi Goldberg (forgive me, I *have* read the book but I’m too

lazy to look up the names) turned over a new leaf and made amends? I wish

something like that would happen in my life. I wish that the father who

would wake me up to watch The Grinch who stole Christmas or Frosty the

Snowman when I was little or who made us candy in the frying pan with corn

syrup and butter or who thought I should have guitar lessons and actually

paid for them, the father who sometimes tried to be decent for the sake of

it, rather than having some hidden agenda, I wish that he would come forward

and take responsibility and make amends. My father is dying, maybe not from

cancer, maybe not today or anytime soon, but he *is* dying and when he dies,

it will be the death of all hope. I know I am being somewhat melodramatic

but I am in a melodramatic space right now.

My secret is that I love my father, I still love him even though I

have broken all ties, “disowned” him for a decade now. I love him because I

feel that under the mental illness and the meanness and the wrong choices

and even evil actions, there must be a core of goodness and worth. I just

can’t believe that anyone choses to be a horrible person. I would rather

believe that he was/is “sick” or diseased or disordered, than that he is

evil or wicked.

Colleen Burns

buddie@...

[Guest guest]

In a message dated 5/6/03 8:46:28 PM Pacific Daylight Time, buddie@...

writes:

Hey Colleen,

Sounds like you are riding out some storms right now. Sounds like you feel

really vulnerable right now, and that is very understandable. Its ok to feel

this needyness and vulnerability. Its smart to be able to be honest with

ourselves and those really close to us about the vulnerability. I also find

it important to always remind myself that the only one who can really take

care of my inner needyness is actually myself. So look for what your needs

are, and then look for ways to take care of them for yourself.

You know though, I do still love my nada as well. I dont even want to stop

loving her. I just cant allow her to continue to hurt me so much, and i have

given up all hope that she will ever get even remotely better.

I have to focus on me, and on getting better. As far as your possible BPD

traits, of course noone can really answer you if you have bpd or not, or if

you just have fleas, or whatever. Well noone on a mailing list anyways, you

could find a good clinician and start working with such a person in therapy.

I hope you feel better soon, and that you continue to nurture yourself

through the tough times.

Warm regards

Malene

> Tonight, I am sad and quiet and tired. I have been behaving strangely

> today – sort of hypersensitive, intense in my connections to others,

> generating unpleasant responses. Not sure if it is FLEAs or if, despite what

> everyone says, I really am BPD myself or have a lot of BPD traits. Is it

> possible that I could have BPD but, due to all the various forms of healing

> I have pursued during my adult years, I have grown a fair bit – enough that

> people don’t see the BPD? For example, I phoned a very good friend tonight

> and asked whether we are still friends. She asked me why I was asking that

> and said that this seems to be the question of the year for me (i.e., I have

> asked her that several times this year) and that it is weird. She pointed

> out that we have been friends for many years.

> I dunno. I feel a sense of rejection or withdrawal from these friends.

> My partner noticed something too. But they do have a history of withdrawing

> when they are stressed or having conflict in their relationship so who

> knows? Anyway, I felt like a jerk when I got off the phone. Not so much

> angry with myself as embarassed and confused. Why am I doing this?

> And isn’t it a pretty BPD kind of thing to do? Also, the stuff about

> suspecting my sister of stealing photos from me. What is that about?

> I just found out that my father has been treated for skin cancer. My

> “fadaâ€. Tonight, alone, after I apologized and got off the phone with my

> friend, I felt wounded and I wondered if that is what my sister feels like

> when she does her weird, wonky stuff, like phoning up out of the blue and

> saying mean things. My sister and I called each other today and spoke

> briefly once or twice. We’re going to get together for a nice walk in the

> next day or two, maybe tomorrow.

> We had discussed how we would feel if our father died. She had said

> that she wouldn’t feel anything and I said that I thought it would have a

> pretty serious impact and both of us might be surprized by the intensity of

> our reaction. A day or two later, sis said that she things I was right about

> this.

>

> Everything I ever wanted when I was growing up, friends, a nice house,

> safety, normalcy, fun and happiness and to be one of those people who smiles

> ( a smiler), a person with something in her eyes, has come true for me as

> an adult. Except it turned out that I had to create this for myself…that I

> could never have this through or with my FOO. I am resigned to this. I have

> been resigned to this fact for many years.

> The weird thing is that I have been feeling off today and when I was

> alone in the quiet and dark of the livingroom with my two dogs while my

> partner is at work, I started to cry. I am very sad because my father has

> started to die. I don’t know why but I feel like he is starting to die. It

> breaks my heart that he is still “mean†and, most of all, that he never

> tried to heal our relationship. Remember in The Colour Purple when the man

> who married whoopi Goldberg (forgive me, I *have* read the book but I’m too

> lazy to look up the names) turned over a new leaf and made amends? I wish

> something like that would happen in my life. I wish that the father who

> would wake me up to watch The Grinch who stole Christmas or Frosty the

> Snowman when I was little or who made us candy in the frying pan with corn

> syrup and butter or who thought I should have guitar lessons and actually

> paid for them, the father who sometimes tried to be decent for the sake of

> it, rather than having some hidden agenda, I wish that he would come forward

> and take responsibility and make amends. My father is dying, maybe not from

> cancer, maybe not today or anytime soon, but he *is* dying and when he dies,

> it will be the death of all hope. I know I am being somewhat melodramatic

> but I am in a melodramatic space right now.

>

> My secret is that I love my father, I still love him even though I

> have broken all ties, “disowned†him for a decade now. I love him because

I

> feel that under the mental illness and the meanness and the wrong choices

> and even evil actions, there must be a core of goodness and worth. I just

> can’t believe that anyone choses to be a horrible person. I would rather

> believe that he was/is “sick†or diseased or disordered, than that he is

> evil or wicked.

>

> Colleen Burns

> buddie@...

>

[Guest guest]

Hi Elyse,

On your last post you accidentally gave *me* credit for something Malene

actually wrote, and then I responded to. Just thought I’d let you know in

case you mixed us up.

Colleen

[Guest guest]

Thanks Malene, and Joy, for your kind and thoughtful words. I appreciate it.

You know, as a KO, I find there is always the possibility of sadness. When I

feel sad or vulnerable I just accept it and go with it. It is a good space

to be in (as long asyou don’t have tolive there all the time). It is good to

feel the sadness, I have grieved most of my life for the loss/absence of the

“good father”. It is very sad of course, really sad, but I have accepted the

bottom line concerning my fada for many years. Every now and then I revisit

the dream and I think that is okay. I remember many years ago someone

explained the p;rocess of becoming yourself in relation to trauma as a kind

of spiral. Not so much a straight line or path from A to B to C …with Z as

the end. Instead, a circular spiral kind of path where you often return to

the place you have been before, but each time you have grown/become

stronger, more whole. That is what the journey feels like to me.

I process out loud a lot. 12 step groups taught me the value of this. One of

the core FLEAs I have, as a result of being raised by BPD type father, is a

deeply rooted sense of shame, worthlessness, the constant fear and

conviction that there is something wrong with me. It might be that I am

crazy too, like my father. It might be that I am crazy but in a different,

worse way than my father. It might be that I am obnoxious, like my fada. The

part of the spiral that I quite hate is when I revisit the horror of feeling

disintegrated. I am not sure what a good word is to describe this. It is the

experience of being completely overwhelmed, feeling crazy, I used to

describe it as a sense of being swarmed by a horde of insects. The

experience of terror and despair. The fear oflosing oneself forever maybe.

Do you know what I am talking about? Oh yes, I remember, used the

phrase “black hole”.

I feel like I am whole. But if feel like I have experienced terrible anguish

in my life. I have been witness to my father’s anguish and craziness.

Sometimes it is hard to know what belongs to me and what belonged to him.

That is because I spent way too much time bearing witness to his suffering

and his sickness. But I do know, at the end of the day, that I have been

spared the illness that afflicts him. For this I am very grateful. His

drama, of course, was my concentration camp.

I *do* know what I like to do and who I am. I like to do many things. I work

at something that I love to do and that challenges me even as it gives me

immense pleasure and satisfaction. I have hobbies that I enjoy. I have a

good circle of friends and acquaintances. I have been blessed with a loving

partner whom I love without misgiving or second thoughts. I would not have

all this and enjoy a great deal of happiness, humour, and pleasure, hope, in

my life, if I hadn’t made a conscious journey towards becoming a real and

decent person. Please don’t be over concerned when I share sadness, wishful

thinking, and so on, with the list. I appreciate the support very much. At

the same time, now is the best time of my life. My life has been very very

good for several years and this is not going to change.

Colleen

[Guest guest]

My main point is please be kind to yourself and allow yourself to be

human, k? I think the news about your dad stirred up the pot and you

simply were being human. Don't beat yourself up.

Michele.

Thanks Michele. That’s it. I won’t beat myself up.

Colleen

[Guest guest]

HI folks,

The truth is that I don’t love my father. I have a certain amount of

compassion for him, but it is largely a compassion without affect. A cool

compassion rather than a warm compassion. I know this because of how I feel

when I read what I wrote about loving him. When I read it written out like

that, I feel kind of sick to my stomach and it rings false to me. I *wish* I

loved my father but I don’t think I do. Love has to be more than words or

pity or even compassion, I think. ???

Colleen

[Guest guest]

--- vwaluhh wrote:

---------------------------------

Colleen,

I know what you are talking about when you say you

don't love your father. I did not love my nada. When

she passed away, I had a very big decision to make as

far as traveling to see her on her death

bed. I decided not to do it because it was false. I

could not feign any loss...I lost her years

ago...actually, i never had a mother. Because this

woman was dying I was supposed to suddenly feel loss

for a mother who never existed. That's ridiculous.

I sent a letter to her (as that was what our

relationship was..a periodic letter depending on which

way the wind was blowing with her). I wrote her that

her treatment of me over the years had made

me a very independent person which I thought was a

good thing. I thanked her for that. It was the only

thing I could say that was good about the way she

raised me...and believe me it was a stretch of

the truth. Her " parenting " made me more of a loner

than someone who was independent.

I understand how you can lack love for your father.

Elyse

____________________________________________________

Elyse

I think what you did was absolutely right for you. Why

visit a dying person because she was a relative? We

don't choose our relatives. (Sure, I chose a

borderline personality husband, but he was an actor

when we were dating.)

Reminds me of the discussion I had with my sister when

she went to live across the world. She said she would

see our parents as regularly as she could, be there

for the good times. With the expense of travel it was

better to see them when living than to come to the

death bed and funeral. Don't know if I have expressed

myself clearly. So, even when the relationship is

good, people don't always go to see the dying relative

- for whatever reason, it's your own decision. I would

cheer you for not going.

When my BPD m-i-l was dying, I had nothing to say to

her. She had totally alienated us, and obviously hated

us. She had no interest in her grandchildren. She had

one child, my BPDex, so it was her loss when we

finally cut off seeing her. She did everything to

destroy the relationship. I stayed away from the

hospital. My exBPD did visit her and told her how

cruelly she had treated him and his family. I don't

think he felt any better for it because he said she

showed no remorse, in fact she reacted with extreme

anger and tears - very waify witch reaction.

Standing up for your own feelings is great for

recovery. Honestly, why 'should' you have to do it?

Well, you didn't have to and you didn't go. Wow, you

are strong and have a sense self preservation. That's

great!

(((hugs)))

Ellie

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