Re: sex, love & mortification

[Guest guest]

It has been so gratifying and validating for me to read all the

great letters from my new KO friends on the WTO boards. So many

insightful ideas and truthful, detailed recollections. I've done

a lot of family recovery work over the years, but never before found

a group like you folks, who can genuinely relate to the things I've

gone through. My blessings to every one of you. Tomorrow night I

will be discussing all this with my wonderful therapist who has been

watching over me for the past 15 years or thereabouts. She's going

to tell me why she thinks that BPD has not received the attention it

deserves, given the magnitude of pain and stress that it puts on

society. Today I am lucky to have a lovely, smart girlfriend with

a 15 year old daughter like her. We talk about things ...

I came to the WTO group a little late in life. My nada and

enmeshed fada were gone years before I knew much about BPD, back

before Internet forums existed. I am here partly because I want

to find out, once and for all, was my mother really a BPD, and was/am

I really a KO? That is my story, and here, everyone has a story.

There were many things that I wanted to bring up on this thread, and

many more have emerged from everyone's many replies. This idea of

many-maniness is something that I am thinking about now -- the

envelopes-inside-of-envelopes. In a few days I will be writing

more, to address all of the convoluted and inter-connected things

that people have written (talk about quantum mechanics -- eh Carla?)

In this regard, I was struck by the posting entitled The triple

whammy, from maternallydetached. She describes a layering in her

BP family system in terms of Point 1, Point 2, Point 3 ... I think

many of us see the world in these 'archaeological strata' or blankets

(of lies) or 'cover-ups'. In computer programming, these might be

referred to as 'layers of abstraction'. You can think of a multi-

storey

wedding cake and you're slicing down through it. (Ok, ,

let's try to keep on topic here ...

Honestly though, I think we need to put a name on this kind of

(multi-layered) experience, which I think runs deep in the psyche

of the KO -- and in the Byzantine, labyrintine mechanics of the

borderline family. Before I write more in a few days, I would

like to leave you with a visualization that I am thinking about.

Do you remember secret agent Maxwell Smart and all the doors he had

to navigate through to arrive at the phone booth that would drop him

into CONTROL headquarters? That's the visualization.

Imagine that there's a telephone where you can talk to someone who

will understand you and validate the experiences in your life. All

you have to do is follow Max down to the end of the hall. But

beware, because the doors could always shut down and not let you

through ...

Good luck with that one, and peace and love to all,

[Guest guest]

I found it on YouTube. If you liked my visualization about secret

agent Maxwell Smart as a metaphor for KO struggles in the BPD family,

here's the opening trailer ...

[Guest guest]

Absolutely. Sometimes I don't even realize that I have a need. I'll

notice that I'm feeling something negative, maybe hurt, or

disappointment. Then I'll realize it's because I have a need that I

haven't expressed, which has therefore been overlooked. I'm trying to

shrink the gap between that feeling and expressing the need.

qwerty

>

> I've been realising lately I have a lot of anger

> myself towards her and FOO (some siblings) because I still use silence

> to protect myself so, while no one really has a clue what I feel or

> need and never take that into account, I get to hear about her (and

> their) problems and what my responsibilities supposedly are, ad

> nauseum. Does anyone else have trouble expressing their needs and

> feelings?

>

[Guest guest]

,you've brought up so many excellent points in your post.I've

also wondered about the strange superficiality of my parents'

relationship with eachother,with us,with other people.I think you're

right that they " just don't have it in them " to develop

deep,meaningful connections.My parents aren't interested in the

meaning and nuances of anything.Their conversations with eachother

consisted mainly of gossiping about others or bragging about how

superior they were--of course when they weren't arguing,sniping or

temper tantruming! I was often accused of " thinking too much " because

I did like to ponder the big existential questions.Or of being too

sensitive and silly--my nada actually told me one day, " It's a shame

you feel things so deeply " !

I've found that in my adult life,I need to have relationships that

are anchored in a real sense of emotional connection.I can do the

social flitting from one light subject to another,touching on nothing

in depth,but my preference is for meaningful one on one

conversation.I feel restless and unfulfilled by purely

sociable,shallow chit-chatting,which is ALL that my parents' so-

called " close " friendships ever were and is something I can't really

define as a " friendship " .

As for asking to go to therapy...Yes,sort of...When I was 12,my

teacher was molesting me and I protested.I find it impossible to

believe that I was his first victim.He had been teaching for a few

years and he knew EXACTLY what he was doing.He seems to me to have

been a sort of " career pedophile " .It might be possible that I was the

first student who spoke up and refused to shut up,though.That would

seem to be the only explanation for why the principal continued to

accuse me of lying every time I was sent to his office for my

protests--even though every single time I reminded him why I

was " misbehaving " in class.He told my parents that *I* should see a

psychiatrist! I felt like a dissident in the USSR being sent for re-

education,it was ridiculous.

My parents jumped right on this idea.They were so convinced that

they were just fine and I was the one with the problem.They seemed to

relish the thought that some authority would also say that there was

something wrong with ME! So,off I went to see " the psychiatrist " .

He was a very nice old man.Well,he seemed really old to me.We had

three sessions.We talked,did some tests,he asked me questions and I

answered.I didn't tell him about what was happening at school because

I was still testing the waters with him.I was hoping that I COULD

tell him and that he'd be the one adult who would hear me.

Anyway,on what would have been our fourth session,he asked to see

all of us in his office: me,my brother and my parents.I'll bet that

man must have " seen and heard it all " during his long career.He said

that he wanted to tell my parents what he thought in front of

me,because he wanted me to " hear it " .I had a moment of fear where I

worried that he was going to say that I was nuts or something and he

wanted to have me carted off to the loony bin,which is what my

parents had been threatening since I'd gone to see him.

But no! He said instead, " The first thing I want to stress is that

there is nothing the matter with this young lady,except what I

believe to be a mild depression.We've spoken about her friends and I

think that what she is lacking in her life is true peer

relationships.She tests in the profoundly gifted range and you need

to get her involved in activities where she can meet like-minded

peers.I believe that her depression will clear up once she has the

intellectual challenge she needs and once she makes some friends who

share her interests... "

My parents' eyes were literally glazing over with boredom.He was

asking them to put themselves out for me: snore...Then he dropped the

bomb and I will always be thankful to him for the reassurance this

gave me:

" What I'm going to recommend at this point is for each of you to see

me in individual sessions.I will then recommend an appropriate course

of therapy,whether that will be continuing to meet with me or whether

that will be me sending all of you to a family therapist. "

My father sputtered, " You want to see US?! But what about ? "

He said bluntly, " doesn't belong in a psychiatrist's

office. "

" But you think WE do?! " my mother yelled.

He repeated that he wanted to make individual appointments for each

of them,including my brother.

My parents got up and stormed out of his office,ordering me to " come

on " .The psychiatrist reached out to pat me as I was leaving and said

quietly, " I'm sorry,. " I had tears in my eyes and a lump in

my throat,realizing what he had just tried to do.I thanked him for

trying.

Of course,I never saw him again,although I asked to.All the way home

in the car,both of my parents were raging: " He's NUTS! Who the hell

does he think he is! What a waste of time and money! I always said

shrinks are even crazier than their patients! How DARE he suggest WE

need to see him,he doesn't even know how to do his job! We should

have checked him out better,I'll bet all those degrees in his office

are fakes! " ...

>

> >

> >

> >.....

> > I have no recollection in my life of nada and fada ever having

> > what I would consider to be a deep, connecting discussion with

> > one another. And not only with each other, but with me or

> > anyone else. I would so love to think that for some time in

> > my life that we once actually connected, but it never happened

> > at all. By comparison, on the WTO boards, I can chat briefly

> > with total strangers and feel a sense of rich connection and

> > communication that was systematically denied to me in those

> > first 18 years of my life. ..... When I was 16 I asked to see a

> > psychologist. Nada said NO, of course, I didn't need one ...

> >

> > Here's a question: How many KOs were denied therapy after

> > they requested it? Obviously nada could't risk having

> > someone find out that there might be something wrong in

> > the family -- I mean, something wrong besides me! And

> > I was the one asking for the therapy. It's nada's Catch

> > 22: You're crazy, you can't see a therapist!

> >

> > In my childhood, I had a dialog going on in my head about

> > the world around me -- about art and animated movies and

> > God and the cosmos and where did I come from? My parents

> > had nothing to do with this healthy, intellectual curiosity.

> >

> > So I'm talking here about people connecting with each

> > other -- in a profound, wondrous sense -- and that is what

> > I think is largely missing from the Borderline Personality.

> > At least, for my nada. All of her weird sexual fixations,

> > her provocative nudity, her humiliations and insults to fada,

> > her raging WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THE BATHROOM ...

> >

> > In the end, she just couldn't connect. It wasn't in her.

> >

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Deanna,that's exactly what it is--it IS emotional rape.I have often

thought that the worst trauma of my life is that my nada raped my

soul.That has been the hardest thing to overcome.

-

>

> > I DO remember someone saying at one

> > time that KO's that were NOT molested still tended to have those

> signs for some reason

> > although why escapes me at the moment.

>

>

>

> I often wondered, when I was a tween, if I had been molested and

> didn't remember it. My guess would be that there is a similarity

> between the effects of being molested and being raised by a nada.

>

> While a nada might not molest, she might invade her child in many

> other ways. Reading your diary. Staring at your body in the

dressing

> room as you start to develop, instead of showing you some respect

and

> modesty and looking away. Refusing to allow you to have private

> thoughts. Eavesdropping. Laughing at your pain.

>

> Have you ever felt like you were *emotionally* raped? I think this

is

> where those feelings come in. It's invading boundaries, emotional

and

> physical.

>

[Guest guest]

I'm so sorry they wouldn't let you see that psychiatrist anymore! My nada fired

mine as well.

I asked him once what I had to do to make myself better and he said " Honestly, I

don't think your problems will be able to be solved while you still live under

your mother's roof. " I took that to mean the sooner I left, the better. Being

sixteen, I of course ran away later that week. I wrote a note explaining to nada

that I thought she needed to see a psychologist, but either way, I wouldn't be

able to be a healthy and whole individual until I left, so I did. I also put

that I hoped as my mother she would see that this was what I needed and I

promised to take good care of myself, finish school, and contact her soon to let

her know I was alright. I didn't get very far. I realized I still had nada's

credit card in my wallet from getting groceries the day before. Therefore, she

could report the theft and I'd have the cops after me. So, I had to go back.

Plus, I hadn't been able to find my kitten before I left. I knew I'd miss her

terribly. I insisted nada

and I not speak until we were in my therapist's office. He explained why I

tried to run and about BPD. She called him a fraud and we left. The rage lasted

days and I never saw that therapist again. I bet this has happened to several

other KOs as well.

Jae

Re: sex, love & mortification

,you' ve brought up so many excellent points in your post.I've

also wondered about the strange superficiality of my parents'

relationship with eachother,with us,with other people.I think you're

right that they " just don't have it in them " to develop

deep,meaningful connections. My parents aren't interested in the

meaning and nuances of anything.Their conversations with eachother

consisted mainly of gossiping about others or bragging about how

superior they were--of course when they weren't arguing,sniping or

temper tantruming! I was often accused of " thinking too much " because

I did like to ponder the big existential questions.Or of being too

sensitive and silly--my nada actually told me one day, " It's a shame

you feel things so deeply " !

I've found that in my adult life,I need to have relationships that

are anchored in a real sense of emotional connection.I can do the

social flitting from one light subject to another,touching on nothing

in depth,but my preference is for meaningful one on one

conversation. I feel restless and unfulfilled by purely

sociable,shallow chit-chatting, which is ALL that my parents' so-

called " close " friendships ever were and is something I can't really

define as a " friendship " .

As for asking to go to therapy...Yes, sort of...When I was 12,my

teacher was molesting me and I protested.I find it impossible to

believe that I was his first victim.He had been teaching for a few

years and he knew EXACTLY what he was doing.He seems to me to have

been a sort of " career pedophile " .It might be possible that I was the

first student who spoke up and refused to shut up,though.That would

seem to be the only explanation for why the principal continued to

accuse me of lying every time I was sent to his office for my

protests--even though every single time I reminded him why I

was " misbehaving " in class.He told my parents that *I* should see a

psychiatrist! I felt like a dissident in the USSR being sent for re-

education,it was ridiculous.

My parents jumped right on this idea.They were so convinced that

they were just fine and I was the one with the problem.They seemed to

relish the thought that some authority would also say that there was

something wrong with ME! So,off I went to see " the psychiatrist " .

He was a very nice old man.Well,he seemed really old to me.We had

three sessions.We talked,did some tests,he asked me questions and I

answered.I didn't tell him about what was happening at school because

I was still testing the waters with him.I was hoping that I COULD

tell him and that he'd be the one adult who would hear me.

Anyway,on what would have been our fourth session,he asked to see

all of us in his office: me,my brother and my parents.I'll bet that

man must have " seen and heard it all " during his long career.He said

that he wanted to tell my parents what he thought in front of

me,because he wanted me to " hear it " .I had a moment of fear where I

worried that he was going to say that I was nuts or something and he

wanted to have me carted off to the loony bin,which is what my

parents had been threatening since I'd gone to see him.

But no! He said instead, " The first thing I want to stress is that

there is nothing the matter with this young lady,except what I

believe to be a mild depression.We' ve spoken about her friends and I

think that what she is lacking in her life is true peer

relationships. She tests in the profoundly gifted range and you need

to get her involved in activities where she can meet like-minded

peers.I believe that her depression will clear up once she has the

intellectual challenge she needs and once she makes some friends who

share her interests... "

My parents' eyes were literally glazing over with boredom.He was

asking them to put themselves out for me: snore...Then he dropped the

bomb and I will always be thankful to him for the reassurance this

gave me:

" What I'm going to recommend at this point is for each of you to see

me in individual sessions.I will then recommend an appropriate course

of therapy,whether that will be continuing to meet with me or whether

that will be me sending all of you to a family therapist. "

My father sputtered, " You want to see US?! But what about ? "

He said bluntly, " doesn't belong in a psychiatrist' s

office. "

" But you think WE do?! " my mother yelled.

He repeated that he wanted to make individual appointments for each

of them,including my brother.

My parents got up and stormed out of his office,ordering me to " come

on " .The psychiatrist reached out to pat me as I was leaving and said

quietly, " I'm sorry,. " I had tears in my eyes and a lump in

my throat,realizing what he had just tried to do.I thanked him for

trying.

Of course,I never saw him again,although I asked to.All the way home

in the car,both of my parents were raging: " He's NUTS! Who the hell

does he think he is! What a waste of time and money! I always said

shrinks are even crazier than their patients! How DARE he suggest WE

need to see him,he doesn't even know how to do his job! We should

have checked him out better,I'll bet all those degrees in his office

are fakes! " ...

>

> >

> >

> >.....

> > I have no recollection in my life of nada and fada ever having

> > what I would consider to be a deep, connecting discussion with

> > one another. And not only with each other, but with me or

> > anyone else. I would so love to think that for some time in

> > my life that we once actually connected, but it never happened

> > at all. By comparison, on the WTO boards, I can chat briefly

> > with total strangers and feel a sense of rich connection and

> > communication that was systematically denied to me in those

> > first 18 years of my life. ..... When I was 16 I asked to see a

> > psychologist. Nada said NO, of course, I didn't need one ...

> >

> > Here's a question: How many KOs were denied therapy after

> > they requested it? Obviously nada could't risk having

> > someone find out that there might be something wrong in

> > the family -- I mean, something wrong besides me! And

> > I was the one asking for the therapy. It's nada's Catch

> > 22: You're crazy, you can't see a therapist!

> >

> > In my childhood, I had a dialog going on in my head about

> > the world around me -- about art and animated movies and

> > God and the cosmos and where did I come from? My parents

> > had nothing to do with this healthy, intellectual curiosity.

> >

> > So I'm talking here about people connecting with each

> > other -- in a profound, wondrous sense -- and that is what

> > I think is largely missing from the Borderline Personality.

> > At least, for my nada. All of her weird sexual fixations,

> > her provocative nudity, her humiliations and insults to fada,

> > her raging WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THE BATHROOM ...

> >

> > In the end, she just couldn't connect. It wasn't in her.

> >

> >

> >

>

________________________________________________________________________________\

____

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http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs

[Guest guest]

, the 'strange superficiality' of your parents' relationships,

and the pivotal family experience that you had in the shrink's office

when you were 12, are both very much what I was asking about. Thanks

so much for sharing and validating. Sorry to hear about your creepy

teacher. But it's exciting that the good psychiatrist was out there

gunning for you -- even if he did get shot down by nada's radar.

[Guest guest]

Definitely have problems with expressing feelings and asserting myself when

necessary. As a result of growing up with a nada, I have put up with crap from

others, been walked on like a doormat, put up with all kinds of garbage that

someone who was not raised by a nada would even consider putting up with.

Through the years with nada I was never allowed any emotions. The only time I

was allowed to express myself was if it was in agreement with HER and what SHE

was saying. You would get shot down in that house for having a difference of

opinion or having needs of your own. EVERYTHING constantly revolved around HER.

Every single thing going on was all about HER. I am still very bitter and

miserable over this.

To: WTOAdultChildren1@...: qwerty.zanderson@...: Tue,

11 Dec 2007 17:20:36 +0000Subject: Re: sex, love &

mortification

Absolutely. Sometimes I don't even realize that I have a need. I'llnotice that

I'm feeling something negative, maybe hurt, ordisappointment. Then I'll realize

it's because I have a need that Ihaven't expressed, which has therefore been

overlooked. I'm trying toshrink the gap between that feeling and expressing the

need.qwerty>> I've been realising lately I have a lot of

anger> myself towards her and FOO (some siblings) because I still use silence>

to protect myself so, while no one really has a clue what I feel or> need and

never take that into account, I get to hear about her (and> their) problems and

what my responsibilities supposedly are, ad> nauseum. Does anyone else have

trouble expressing their needs and> feelings?>

_________________________________________________________________

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[Guest guest]

My parents read my diary, too. Apparently they did so daily, but I

didn't find out about it until they called me on something I did

which I wrote about in my diary. I hadn't told a soul about it

otherwise. Somehow, they found out about it the next morning while I

was at school. Dad claims he was just " looking for a piece of paper "

(I used to keep my diary in notebooks), which might be believable if

I didn't hide my diary between blankets in my closet. And then both

parents raged at me for what I wrote. I used to journal/write

extensively; after that, I stopped journalling AT ALL for twenty

years. Twenty years! This in spite of the fact that at the time,

writing was my favorite thing to do. But now writing had become

dangerous, if I wrote it down, someone else would see it and rage at

me for it. Only recently have I started writing again. This episode

also explains my yahoo group name.

> >

> > > I DO remember someone saying at one

> > > time that KO's that were NOT molested still tended to have those

> > signs for some reason

> > > although why escapes me at the moment.

> >

> >

> >

> > I often wondered, when I was a tween, if I had been molested and

> > didn't remember it. My guess would be that there is a similarity

> > between the effects of being molested and being raised by a nada.

> >

> > While a nada might not molest, she might invade her child in many

> > other ways. Reading your diary. Staring at your body in the

> dressing

> > room as you start to develop, instead of showing you some respect

> and

> > modesty and looking away. Refusing to allow you to have private

> > thoughts. Eavesdropping. Laughing at your pain.

> >

> > Have you ever felt like you were *emotionally* raped? I think

this

> is

> > where those feelings come in. It's invading boundaries,

emotional

> and

> > physical.

> >

>

[Guest guest]

I wish all my nada had read WAS my diary. (I am 44 now). She used to snoop

thru my purse and read notes from friends, eavesdrop on telephone conversations,

demand to know every little detail. Always DEMANDED to know when I got my

period. Would check the wastebasket every month and there had better been pads

in there or she would assume you were pregnant, the big P, God forbid. Such an

intrusion! She also checked in the dirty laundry basket and checked out the

dirty laundry, to see if there were any " signs " on it of having sex, thus the

" Big P " word (pregnant). So crazy!!!!!!! My life was totally messed up all the

while I lived at home, up until I got married at 22, then things FINALLY

normalized. My husband sees things for how they really are. I began starting

when I moved out of nada's house to finally see reality in things and realize I

was allowed to have my own opinions, that things were not always my fault, to

see reality in situations instead of nada's false realities she would beat into

our heads.

To: WTOAdultChildren1@...: SaraJo@...: Tue, 11

Dec 2007 14:12:21 +0000Subject: Re: sex, love &

mortification

I once caught my mother in the bathroom reading my diary. i acted upset about

it, kinda yelled a little bit. she just acted passive about it and said things

like " whatever sara, it was easy to find " and acted like it was no big deal. She

completely invaded my privacy. I don't think she saw us kids as " real people "

and that we didn't deserve the same courtesies as everyone else. she acted like

finding and reading my diary was no big deal, and neither was invading my

privacy.....i even think she told me once that i didn't deserve privacy because

she couldn't trust me. > > > I DO remember someone saying at one > > time that KO's

that were NOT molested still tended to have those> signs for some reason > >

although why escapes me at the moment.> > > > I often wondered, when I was a

tween, if I had been molested and> didn't remember it. My guess would be that

there is a similarity> between the effects of being molested and being raised by

a nada.> > While a nada might not molest, she might invade her child in many>

other ways. Reading your diary. Staring at your body in the dressing> room as

you start to develop, instead of showing you some respect and> modesty and

looking away. Refusing to allow you to have private> thoughts. Eavesdropping.

Laughing at your pain.> > Have you ever felt like you were *emotionally* raped?

I think this is> where those feelings come in. It's invading boundaries,

emotional and> physical.>

_________________________________________________________________

Share life as it happens with the new Windows Live.

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[Guest guest]

Qwerty,I agree with you that attempting to " categorize different

types of abuse...leads back to a painful road of self doubt " .I think

that everyone's traumas are uniquely painful to them and that we all

need to be supported and validated rather than re-judged and re-

condemned.I also do that head trip on myself of " how much worse "

others have it.I catch myself thinking that if I am coping fairly

well,maybe what happened to me isn't as awful as it might have

been.Not that it isn't real,but that maybe I have " less of a right "

to my own agony,if " worse abuse " has affected others so much more

than mine has affected me.I think that when I engage in this kind of

thinking,what I'm doing is re-abusing myself.All of us have the right

to live our own reality and to process our own pain for what it is.

I have to say that,having unfortunately experienced physical,sexual

and emotional abuse,it's the emotional abuse that is the most

devastating and the most reality-denying.That is just IMO,but I have

had the most difficulty reconciling myself to the soul destroying

aspects of having my own perceptions distorted and denied as well as

coming to terms with the horrible fact that my nada was/is just as

you wrote: " a self-absorbed,conniving,controlling nada and not the

wonderful,loving mother she claims to be " .For me,that is what impacts

the most on everything else that I endured as a child.It's the

hardest thing to wrap my head around: that my own mother wasn't a

mother to me and instead was a manipulative,selfish stranger who

warped my development when she should have nurtured it.

-

>

> ,

>

> Hmm....

>

> Just wanted to comment on the paragraph below. First, let me say

that

> I really appreciate your comments on this board. You often give me

> something new to think about, or remind me of an event I'd forgotten

> from my past.

>

> You wrote " some are subjected to the worst -- physical molestation. "

> How true, and what a horrible thing for anyone to experience. I did

> wonder, though, when I read that... if sexual abuse is the worst,

> which abuse is the best? An absurd thought, of course, as all forms

of

> abuse are cruel attempts at negating a person.

>

> I often have a nagging thought in the back of my mind that maybe I

> wasn't really abused, because the abuse was (mostly) all verbal. If

I

> don't have any physical scars, how do I know it really happened? If

> nobody put their hands on me where they shouldn't have, how do I

know

> I have a right to my anger, my pain, my claim to being abused at

all?

> I have to constantly remind myself that what happened was real, that

> my memories are true and not exaggerated, that my mom really is a

> self-absorbed, conniving, controlling nada, and not the wonderful,

> loving mother she claims to be.

>

> So I guess my point is that sometimes we categorize different types

of

> abuse according to perceived severity. I know I often do in my own

> mind. But I find that for me, this is often a self-destructive

pattern

> that leads back to a painful road of self-doubt ( " You weren't

abused.

> You're full of it. You're making a big deal out of nothing. There

are

> lots of people who were constantly beaten or sexually assaulted.

> Nothing like that happened to you. " ). In the end, I can't really

think

> of it as a greater than or less than equation. We all went through

> different houses of horror, have emerged with different scars, and

are

> at various stages on our journey to a better place in life. I guess

I

> would prefer to think of different types of abuse as just

> that--different varieties of cruel hell inflicted by one person on

> another.

>

> qwerty

>

[Guest guest]

--

Me, too. I could have written your post word for word. I still

wrestle with guilt in this current state of NC with my parents, even

though they aren't bothering to contact me, either. Yesterday, I

made peace with the fact that I deserve to give myself some time and

space away from them and their bullying, emotional blackmail and

denial -- All of it takes a toll on me, and I deserve to step off

the merry-go-round for awhile.

-Kyla

>

>

> Definitely have problems with expressing feelings and asserting

myself when necessary. As a result of growing up with a nada, I

have put up with crap from others, been walked on like a doormat,

put up with all kinds of garbage that someone who was not raised by

a nada would even consider putting up with. Through the years with

nada I was never allowed any emotions. The only time I was allowed

to express myself was if it was in agreement with HER and what SHE

was saying. You would get shot down in that house for having a

difference of opinion or having needs of your own. EVERYTHING

constantly revolved around HER. Every single thing going on was all

about HER. I am still very bitter and miserable over this.

>

>

[Guest guest]

Ditto here. In fact, I developed a habit of not telling anyone about

any need of mine until the situation became so desperate to me that I

couldn't take it anymore. Then I'd present the need in a timid way,

and get frustrated that people didn't hop to it right away. I'm

realizing now that I need to express my needs much, much earlier than

I have been, and do so with proper assertion, but I feel like I need

to be justified in how badly I need something before I say anything

about it.

>

> >

> >

> > Definitely have problems with expressing feelings and asserting

> myself when necessary. As a result of growing up with a nada, I

> have put up with crap from others, been walked on like a doormat,

> put up with all kinds of garbage that someone who was not raised by

> a nada would even consider putting up with. Through the years with

> nada I was never allowed any emotions. The only time I was allowed

> to express myself was if it was in agreement with HER and what SHE

> was saying. You would get shot down in that house for having a

> difference of opinion or having needs of your own. EVERYTHING

> constantly revolved around HER. Every single thing going on was

all

> about HER. I am still very bitter and miserable over this.

> >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

I cringed when I read this. The horror of someone else invading you

that way... ugh!

This is exactly why I didn't keep a journal when I was a kid. I knew

my nada would get to it. Maybe that's why I've been having writer's

block lately. The thought of her reading anything I write makes my

stomach churn. I don't want her to share that part of my life. I don't

want her to invade that part of my life. All I got from her was

criticism of my writing when I was younger. It's my self-expression,

my words, my work and I don't want her to taint it.

qwerty

>

> My parents read my diary, too. Apparently they did so daily, but I

> didn't find out about it until they called me on something I did

> which I wrote about in my diary. I hadn't told a soul about it

> otherwise. Somehow, they found out about it the next morning while I

> was at school. Dad claims he was just " looking for a piece of paper "

> (I used to keep my diary in notebooks), which might be believable if

> I didn't hide my diary between blankets in my closet. And then both

> parents raged at me for what I wrote. I used to journal/write

> extensively; after that, I stopped journalling AT ALL for twenty

> years. Twenty years! This in spite of the fact that at the time,

> writing was my favorite thing to do. But now writing had become

> dangerous, if I wrote it down, someone else would see it and rage at

> me for it. Only recently have I started writing again. This episode

> also explains my yahoo group name.

>

[Guest guest]

, I'm an adult. I'm hearing you and I believe you.

-Deanna

> I was still testing the waters with him.I was hoping that I COULD

> tell him and that he'd be the one adult who would hear me.

[Guest guest]

Yes, there are lots of adults on this list - - and we all hear you and believe

you!

AZClown

Re: sex, love & mortification

, I'm an adult. I'm hearing you and I believe you.

-Deanna

> I was still testing the waters with him.I was hoping that I COULD

> tell him and that he'd be the one adult who would hear me.

________________________________________________________________________________\

____

Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page.

http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs

[Guest guest]

I also could have written any of these posts. I was teased

mercilessly in school from the third grade to the tenth, and

stepnada was always calling me a wuss and telling me to stand up for

myself - she of course, was the popular cheerleader in high school.

My sister and I were goth kids for awhile which pissed stepnada off

to no end. My three best friends today are, my husband, my friend

in Wisconsin, and my friend in Alaska (I live in Vegas). I

alternately yearn for friends and an active social life, and then,

when confronted with more than three days of hanging out with

people, find myself exhausted and irritable - I just don't have it

in me to be social anymore. I still don't feel that I " fit in "

anywhere! But things are slowly changing for me since I decided to

walk my own path, and stop being pushed down the path stepnada felt

was best for me.

Jae, your feeling of a non-person resonated deeply with me. I often

feel like I'm going to be called out as a " fraud " and sometimes I

experience disassociation - nothing is real at that point. It's

frightening and exacerbates the low level depression and anxiety I

experience. Also, like you, I take great solace and joy in

academia. I finished college but found myself in a customer service

position (I graduated three months before 9/11 with a degree in

Psychology - the only positions available to people with a BA in

Psych were shut down by the state because of budget cuts). I felt

like " now what? " I have always wanted to be a teacher but was

afraid to do so b/c stepnada is one and always told me I was not

permitted to do that for a living (she hates it - yet keeps earning

more continuing ed credits in education - go figure) - she

threatened not paying for college if I chose education as a major.

When I complained about how empty my customer service job made me

feel (stupid me, I was looking for comfort from HER), she snapped

back at me, in front of my cousin, " If you don't quit that job right

now, I want all the money I back I wasted on your college

education. " I was making $11 an hour, and living with roomates - I

couldn't afford to quit! If I did, I would have to move back in

with HER. Now, it's five years later, and I'm in an equally

depressing job. The women I work with are almost all high school

dropouts and have been with the company for 10, 20, 30 years each.

They all grew up together and are a tight, impenatrable clique that

loves pointing out how young I am, which is usually a way to dismiss

whatever I have just expressed. All I do is data entry ALL DAY

LONG. My boss is a controlling, perfectionist, brown-nosing, by the

book bitch. It is so depressing, and I feel like such a failure

that I can barely get out of bed in the morning. Not long ago I

finally broke. The thought of that future bleak future stretching

out before me made decide to do something about it. I have wanted

to be a teacher since I was five years old, and she can't stop me

anymore - and I can't stop me just because I'm afraid of how she

will react. I researched online schools and found a good one for

me. Now I'm two classes into my Master's of English Lit degree and

I feel like I've come home. I'M ME!!!! Voila - all the social

anxiety, and depression has been melting away. The buzzing current

of guilt that was constantly flowing through me has been diminished

to the occasional bubble (and since it's a bubble - it pops!!). I

feel JOY, and I'm able to relax. After I've finished my degree (in

August or September of next year) I will enroll in our local school

district's Alternative Routes to NV state teacher's licensure and

will hopefully be in a classroom one to two years from now.

My point is, if your heart is begging you to go back to school and

finish your degree, to pursue a career you really want to have, than

do it!! Do it RIGHT NOW! Don't let the money stop you - there are

loans and scholarships. Don't let people suggest you can't - you

KNOW you can. Don't think you won't have the time - you'll make

it! There are so may programs out there for working adults. I

researched for three years while I beat around the bush, and gave

myself a million reasons why I wouldn't be able to hack it. Now

that I'm finally doing it, I feel so much stronger and more

connected to my soul than I EVER have. I'm not lying to myself

anymore, or allowing my stepnada to direct my life. $13,000 is a

teeny, tiny price to pay for peace of mind. Now I'm thinking " why

the hell did I wait so damn long!!?? "

Best of luck to you Jae! Listen to your heart, it is throwing you a

lifeline, don't let yourself drown.

::hugs::

(fellow school nerd - and proud of it!!)

> >

> > Hi Qwerty,

> >

> > It sounds like you and I experienced a similar kind

> > of isolation in our childhoods.

> >

> > Thganks for writing.

> >

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

_____________________________________________________________________

_______________

> Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page.

> http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs

>

>

[Guest guest]

the fact that your stepnada is a teacher is terrifying to me. i hope

she doesn't treat her students like she treats her family.

i just started teaching this semester and while i've had a dream of

being a paleontologist my whole life (i'm getting there eventually), i

have to say this is the best job i've ever had EVER. i'm teaching

middle school, which is supposed to be the " worst " age group, but i

like it. they're just starting to get sarcasm and i'm nothing if not

sarcastic. plus, i'm teaching math, so i feel like i'm making a

difference. i seem to be a rare specimen because i tested into and

got through calculus and realized i didn't know what the hell i was

doing. SO...because i wanted to actually understand mathematics, i

buckled down and enrolled in college algebra, followed by finite math

and statistics (and this was before i even thought about teaching

math). i'm so glad i did because now i know that math is easy to

understand as long as you've got the foundational knowledge. i teach

4 sections of remedial math and i love these kids! when i took this

job, people were warning me that these kids would be burnt out,

apathetic, ready to go to prison. but these kids are so excited that

a teacher is taking the time to actually explain what they're supposed

to be doing. they're actually learning math for the first time in

their lives and that is exciting to them and to me!!

and all my fellow teachers are completely bonkers/neurotic in awesome

and humorous ways. in fact, one of my coworkers is SOOOO similar to

me, i thought we must have been separated by birth. THEN i found out

that our moms are just alike and THAT is what led me to looking into

BPD.

so...YAY FOR TEACHING! i think you'll love it!!!

bink

>

> I also could have written any of these posts. I was teased

> mercilessly in school from the third grade to the tenth, and

> stepnada was always calling me a wuss and telling me to stand up for

> myself - she of course, was the popular cheerleader in high school.

> My sister and I were goth kids for awhile which pissed stepnada off

> to no end. My three best friends today are, my husband, my friend

> in Wisconsin, and my friend in Alaska (I live in Vegas). I

> alternately yearn for friends and an active social life, and then,

> when confronted with more than three days of hanging out with

> people, find myself exhausted and irritable - I just don't have it

> in me to be social anymore. I still don't feel that I " fit in "

> anywhere! But things are slowly changing for me since I decided to

> walk my own path, and stop being pushed down the path stepnada felt

> was best for me.

>

> Jae, your feeling of a non-person resonated deeply with me. I often

> feel like I'm going to be called out as a " fraud " and sometimes I

> experience disassociation - nothing is real at that point. It's

> frightening and exacerbates the low level depression and anxiety I

> experience. Also, like you, I take great solace and joy in

> academia. I finished college but found myself in a customer service

> position (I graduated three months before 9/11 with a degree in

> Psychology - the only positions available to people with a BA in

> Psych were shut down by the state because of budget cuts). I felt

> like " now what? " I have always wanted to be a teacher but was

> afraid to do so b/c stepnada is one and always told me I was not

> permitted to do that for a living (she hates it - yet keeps earning

> more continuing ed credits in education - go figure) - she

> threatened not paying for college if I chose education as a major.

> When I complained about how empty my customer service job made me

> feel (stupid me, I was looking for comfort from HER), she snapped

> back at me, in front of my cousin, " If you don't quit that job right

> now, I want all the money I back I wasted on your college

> education. " I was making $11 an hour, and living with roomates - I

> couldn't afford to quit! If I did, I would have to move back in

> with HER. Now, it's five years later, and I'm in an equally

> depressing job. The women I work with are almost all high school

> dropouts and have been with the company for 10, 20, 30 years each.

> They all grew up together and are a tight, impenatrable clique that

> loves pointing out how young I am, which is usually a way to dismiss

> whatever I have just expressed. All I do is data entry ALL DAY

> LONG. My boss is a controlling, perfectionist, brown-nosing, by the

> book bitch. It is so depressing, and I feel like such a failure

> that I can barely get out of bed in the morning. Not long ago I

> finally broke. The thought of that future bleak future stretching

> out before me made decide to do something about it. I have wanted

> to be a teacher since I was five years old, and she can't stop me

> anymore - and I can't stop me just because I'm afraid of how she

> will react. I researched online schools and found a good one for

> me. Now I'm two classes into my Master's of English Lit degree and

> I feel like I've come home. I'M ME!!!! Voila - all the social

> anxiety, and depression has been melting away. The buzzing current

> of guilt that was constantly flowing through me has been diminished

> to the occasional bubble (and since it's a bubble - it pops!!). I

> feel JOY, and I'm able to relax. After I've finished my degree (in

> August or September of next year) I will enroll in our local school

> district's Alternative Routes to NV state teacher's licensure and

> will hopefully be in a classroom one to two years from now.

>

> My point is, if your heart is begging you to go back to school and

> finish your degree, to pursue a career you really want to have, than

> do it!! Do it RIGHT NOW! Don't let the money stop you - there are

> loans and scholarships. Don't let people suggest you can't - you

> KNOW you can. Don't think you won't have the time - you'll make

> it! There are so may programs out there for working adults. I

> researched for three years while I beat around the bush, and gave

> myself a million reasons why I wouldn't be able to hack it. Now

> that I'm finally doing it, I feel so much stronger and more

> connected to my soul than I EVER have. I'm not lying to myself

> anymore, or allowing my stepnada to direct my life. $13,000 is a

> teeny, tiny price to pay for peace of mind. Now I'm thinking " why

> the hell did I wait so damn long!!?? "

>

> Best of luck to you Jae! Listen to your heart, it is throwing you a

> lifeline, don't let yourself drown.

>

> ::hugs::

> (fellow school nerd - and proud of it!!)

>

[Guest guest]

Thanks for the validation qwerty! Finding out someone has been

secretly reading your diary is kind of like finding out someone's

been filming you naked in the shower. Having them rage at you for

the writing they weren't supposed to have read is like having those

films posted on the internet with disparaging captions.

> >

> > My parents read my diary, too. Apparently they did so daily,

but I

> > didn't find out about it until they called me on something I did

> > which I wrote about in my diary. I hadn't told a soul about it

> > otherwise. Somehow, they found out about it the next morning

while I

> > was at school. Dad claims he was just " looking for a piece of

paper "

> > (I used to keep my diary in notebooks), which might be

believable if

> > I didn't hide my diary between blankets in my closet. And then

both

> > parents raged at me for what I wrote. I used to journal/write

> > extensively; after that, I stopped journalling AT ALL for twenty

> > years. Twenty years! This in spite of the fact that at the

time,

> > writing was my favorite thing to do. But now writing had become

> > dangerous, if I wrote it down, someone else would see it and

rage at

> > me for it. Only recently have I started writing again. This

episode

> > also explains my yahoo group name.

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Way to go ! What an inspiring story!

>

> I also could have written any of these posts. I was teased

> mercilessly in school from the third grade to the tenth, and

> stepnada was always calling me a wuss and telling me to stand up

for

> myself - she of course, was the popular cheerleader in high

school.

> My sister and I were goth kids for awhile which pissed stepnada

off

> to no end. My three best friends today are, my husband, my friend

> in Wisconsin, and my friend in Alaska (I live in Vegas). I

> alternately yearn for friends and an active social life, and then,

> when confronted with more than three days of hanging out with

> people, find myself exhausted and irritable - I just don't have it

> in me to be social anymore. I still don't feel that I " fit in "

> anywhere! But things are slowly changing for me since I decided

to

> walk my own path, and stop being pushed down the path stepnada

felt

> was best for me.

>

> Jae, your feeling of a non-person resonated deeply with me. I

often

> feel like I'm going to be called out as a " fraud " and sometimes I

> experience disassociation - nothing is real at that point. It's

> frightening and exacerbates the low level depression and anxiety I

> experience. Also, like you, I take great solace and joy in

> academia. I finished college but found myself in a customer

service

> position (I graduated three months before 9/11 with a degree in

> Psychology - the only positions available to people with a BA in

> Psych were shut down by the state because of budget cuts). I felt

> like " now what? " I have always wanted to be a teacher but was

> afraid to do so b/c stepnada is one and always told me I was not

> permitted to do that for a living (she hates it - yet keeps

earning

> more continuing ed credits in education - go figure) - she

> threatened not paying for college if I chose education as a

major.

> When I complained about how empty my customer service job made me

> feel (stupid me, I was looking for comfort from HER), she snapped

> back at me, in front of my cousin, " If you don't quit that job

right

> now, I want all the money I back I wasted on your college

> education. " I was making $11 an hour, and living with roomates -

I

> couldn't afford to quit! If I did, I would have to move back in

> with HER. Now, it's five years later, and I'm in an equally

> depressing job. The women I work with are almost all high school

> dropouts and have been with the company for 10, 20, 30 years

each.

> They all grew up together and are a tight, impenatrable clique

that

> loves pointing out how young I am, which is usually a way to

dismiss

> whatever I have just expressed. All I do is data entry ALL DAY

> LONG. My boss is a controlling, perfectionist, brown-nosing, by

the

> book bitch. It is so depressing, and I feel like such a failure

> that I can barely get out of bed in the morning. Not long ago I

> finally broke. The thought of that future bleak future stretching

> out before me made decide to do something about it. I have wanted

> to be a teacher since I was five years old, and she can't stop me

> anymore - and I can't stop me just because I'm afraid of how she

> will react. I researched online schools and found a good one for

> me. Now I'm two classes into my Master's of English Lit degree

and

> I feel like I've come home. I'M ME!!!! Voila - all the social

> anxiety, and depression has been melting away. The buzzing

current

> of guilt that was constantly flowing through me has been

diminished

> to the occasional bubble (and since it's a bubble - it pops!!). I

> feel JOY, and I'm able to relax. After I've finished my degree

(in

> August or September of next year) I will enroll in our local

school

> district's Alternative Routes to NV state teacher's licensure and

> will hopefully be in a classroom one to two years from now.

>

> My point is, if your heart is begging you to go back to school and

> finish your degree, to pursue a career you really want to have,

than

> do it!! Do it RIGHT NOW! Don't let the money stop you - there

are

> loans and scholarships. Don't let people suggest you can't - you

> KNOW you can. Don't think you won't have the time - you'll make

> it! There are so may programs out there for working adults. I

> researched for three years while I beat around the bush, and gave

> myself a million reasons why I wouldn't be able to hack it. Now

> that I'm finally doing it, I feel so much stronger and more

> connected to my soul than I EVER have. I'm not lying to myself

> anymore, or allowing my stepnada to direct my life. $13,000 is a

> teeny, tiny price to pay for peace of mind. Now I'm thinking " why

> the hell did I wait so damn long!!?? "

>

> Best of luck to you Jae! Listen to your heart, it is throwing you

a

> lifeline, don't let yourself drown.

>

> ::hugs::

> (fellow school nerd - and proud of it!!)

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

Here's a suggestion for a term: " reverberating berating " . I like

the use of the words, especially in the multiple meanings and

etymology of the word " reverberate " (see below, taken from

bartleby.com). Words are fun!

SYLLABICATION: re·ver·ber·ate

PRONUNCIATION: r-vûrb-rt

VERB: Inflected forms: re·ver·ber·at·ed, re·ver·ber·at·ing,

re·ver·ber·ates

INTRANSITIVE VERB: 1. To resound in a succession of echoes; reecho.

2. To have a prolonged or continuing effect: Those talks with his

teacher reverberated throughout his life. 3. To be repeatedly

reflected, as sound waves, heat, or light. 4. To be forced or driven

back; recoil or rebound.

TRANSITIVE VERB: 1. To reecho (a sound). See synonyms at echo. 2. To

reflect (heat or light) repeatedly. 3. To drive or force back;

repel. 4. To subject (a metal, for example) to treatment in a

reverberatory furnace.

ETYMOLOGY: Latin reverberre, reverbert-, to repel : re-, re- +

verberre, to beat (from verber, whip; see wer-2 in Appendix I).

OTHER FORMS: re·verber·a·tor —NOUN

>

> I have been thinking about a particular enduring effect of the BP

> family experience that for me is important but is very hard to put

> into words. Because it is so difficult to describe, I feel that it

> doesn't get talked about enough. It would be good if we could

create

> some language or a metaphor that can articulate this concept.

>

> It has to do with chaining or compounding, about piling abuses on

top

> of abuses. In my own foo, this took the form of lies upon lies.

We

> also read it here in stories about nada reading KO's private diary,

> and then punishing KO for what's written there. Can you see what I

> mean about this multi-layered violation? Other stories about KOs

> being molested, and then nada punishing the abused child for saying

> such things. And the perpetrator being left free to abuse another

> child, and on and on ... More unhappiness on top of more

unhappiness.

>

> Further extending these chains-of-abuse are that they can go on

> for many years. When my own nada was dying of cancer, she was

> complaining about traumatic events from my early childhood. How

> many of these rages was she feeling all during her life, all at

the

> same time? Even if we managed to come to some agreement on one

> incident, she'd figure that there was something else that I should

> be punished for.

>

> I would like some help thinking through this stuff. In the

recovery

> literature this is probably associated with PTSD, like the

> experiences of prisoners of war, getting no relief from their

> discomfort.

>

> And it's not just external. Qwerty's provocative questions about,

> was I a victim of abuse or was I not, and was it 'bad' or was it

> just 'normal'? This shows how the mental agitation continues years

> later without calming down. We know from KO stories that it often

> takes into one's 30s or 40s or later in life to begin getting a

> grip on this stuff -- if ever. I see the kid-of as being under a

> constant barrage of negative and conflicting messages, both outside

> and inside. We all know the phrase 'adding insult to injury'. How

> about 'adding insult to injury to unjust punishment to lies to

> humiliation to gossip to gaslighting to disappointment', and back

to

> insult again? It's these cascade effects that I'm trying to get

at.

>

> I mentioned the image of secret agent Maxwell Smart walking through

> doors-after-doors. This sort of captures the sense of all these

> layerings -- the multiple separations that KOs feel from a free,

> serene reality. But I'm still thinking about it, if anyone has any

> ideas, or if there are writings on this kind of mental picture.

>

> Today I'm thinking about a bat cave. The KO lives in a bat cave.

> At any time, the bats could start swarming again. If you stand

real

> still, invisible, then you might not disrupt them. You can also

> try to fit in with them and become a bat. You can also try to

fight

> them. You might be able to out-smart them once in a while, but

there

> are always more coming at you. You can't fight them all off.

>

> Sorry to be sounding this paranoid, but that's how I see the

> borderline family -- a place where there is no relief possible.

> Even things seem calm for a minute, you're worried about what's

> coming next. I'm calling this compound or cascading stress.

>

>

>

>

> > I found it on YouTube. If you liked my visualization about

secret

> > agent Maxwell Smart as a metaphor for KO struggles in the BPD

> family,

> > here's the opening trailer ...

> >

>

>

[Guest guest]

, you said.....

Can you see what I mean about this multi-layered violation?.....

Yes I can see this and feel it. I think that is why after going NC

I had felt euphoric, light and free.

I just wish that feeling had lasted :0(

Thanks for sharing......you said it beautifully!!! drlingirl

Ps.....I just turned 39 and snapped with my BP.

>

> I have been thinking about a particular enduring effect of the BP

> family experience that for me is important but is very hard to put

> into words. Because it is so difficult to describe, I feel that it

> doesn't get talked about enough. It would be good if we could

create

> some language or a metaphor that can articulate this concept.

>

> It has to do with chaining or compounding, about piling abuses on

top

> of abuses. In my own foo, this took the form of lies upon lies.

We

> also read it here in stories about nada reading KO's private diary,

> and then punishing KO for what's written there. Can you see what I

> mean about this multi-layered violation? Other stories about KOs

> being molested, and then nada punishing the abused child for saying

> such things. And the perpetrator being left free to abuse another

> child, and on and on ... More unhappiness on top of more

unhappiness.

>

> Further extending these chains-of-abuse are that they can go on

> for many years. When my own nada was dying of cancer, she was

> complaining about traumatic events from my early childhood. How

> many of these rages was she feeling all during her life, all at

the

> same time? Even if we managed to come to some agreement on one

> incident, she'd figure that there was something else that I should

> be punished for.

>

> I would like some help thinking through this stuff. In the

recovery

> literature this is probably associated with PTSD, like the

> experiences of prisoners of war, getting no relief from their

> discomfort.

>

> And it's not just external. Qwerty's provocative questions about,

> was I a victim of abuse or was I not, and was it 'bad' or was it

> just 'normal'? This shows how the mental agitation continues years

> later without calming down. We know from KO stories that it often

> takes into one's 30s or 40s or later in life to begin getting a

> grip on this stuff -- if ever. I see the kid-of as being under a

> constant barrage of negative and conflicting messages, both outside

> and inside. We all know the phrase 'adding insult to injury'. How

> about 'adding insult to injury to unjust punishment to lies to

> humiliation to gossip to gaslighting to disappointment', and back

to

> insult again? It's these cascade effects that I'm trying to get

at.

>

> I mentioned the image of secret agent Maxwell Smart walking through

> doors-after-doors. This sort of captures the sense of all these

> layerings -- the multiple separations that KOs feel from a free,

> serene reality. But I'm still thinking about it, if anyone has any

> ideas, or if there are writings on this kind of mental picture.

>

> Today I'm thinking about a bat cave. The KO lives in a bat cave.

> At any time, the bats could start swarming again. If you stand

real

> still, invisible, then you might not disrupt them. You can also

> try to fit in with them and become a bat. You can also try to

fight

> them. You might be able to out-smart them once in a while, but

there

> are always more coming at you. You can't fight them all off.

>

> Sorry to be sounding this paranoid, but that's how I see the

> borderline family -- a place where there is no relief possible.

> Even things seem calm for a minute, you're worried about what's

> coming next. I'm calling this compound or cascading stress.

>

>

>

>

> > I found it on YouTube. If you liked my visualization about

secret

> > agent Maxwell Smart as a metaphor for KO struggles in the BPD

> family,

> > here's the opening trailer ...

> >

>

>

[Guest guest]

Hi , Thanks for this thread. It's really one of the most useful and

interesting

threads I've ever seen on the Board. I was a very active member of the board

around 04-

06, but dropped off for awhile. Every once in awhile I find myself needing to

check in and

gather strength from this place.

I'm not the best with visual metaphors. What about a chain? Are there any

scientists out

there--what about a double-helix? I'm not sure what a double helix looks like,

but it's

got interlocking layers right, and they are all of them about equal in size and

weight? At

any rate, I hope someone comes up with a useful pictoral metaphor for you; I

just want to

give you some more examples.

Here's one that fits a bit with the themes on this thread. (Oo--what about a

multi-

colored thread? Colored with delusions?) Anyway. At home there would be

thousands,

hundreds of thousands, of the reverberating berating. (I was split black.)

Anything I said,

ate, wore, did--constant attack. Nobody wants to hear THAT. Nobody wants to

see

THAT. HA! Aren't you ridiculous. Constant. Particularly bad about my

appearance. I was

constantly told I was GROS, in so many words, over and over; that I was dirty

and

disgusting and fat and all kinds of other untrue things.

Then I'd go off to school and nada would expect me to be the most beautiful,

popular

person there. And she would say to me, you're problem is that you don't have

CONFIDENCE. And she would say it all tragically, as if it was such a fatal flaw

of mine.

Then if and when I had a success, in front of people she would say, see, I told

you you

could do it! And she would describe to these people how exceptionally talented

and

beautiful I was, and how she always tried to make me believe I could succeed,

and didn't

understand why I didn't believe in myself more. And would act in front of these

people

like I had just never believed in myself, wasn't that sad?

LAYERS, man.

Here's one about family. Nada would be so extremely abusive, sometimes

physically, that

I just wouldn't want to be around her at all. It was too painful. Because of

that I went

away to school and avoided any events where it would be just her, my father and

my

sister. Nada cast this as rejection of the family entire, even though I was

quite willing to

attend family events where it was more than just immediate FOO. Unknowing

family

members, such as cousins etc, would ask nada to tell me when events were. Nada

had a

way of not telling me, and then announcing to them that I refused to come

because I

'didn't want to be a part' of the family. When I would show up, she would act

all surprised,

taking this tone of wow, we can't believe YOU are here. We thought YOU hated

us. ??

Once she held a potluck party at her house for 4th of July, and didn't bother to

tell me

what time it was. I told her I was coming, with a dish. I arrived with my very

elaborate

dish around 1:45, and they had all just finished eating. Oh, she acted like,

she didn't know

*I* was coming, what was *I* doing there? And then insisted in front of

everyone she had

emailed me the time of the function.

There are so many of these layers. Those two aren't the best examples; if I

think of better

ones I'll post them. Meanwhile, thanks for the thread!

Charlie

>

> I have been thinking about a particular enduring effect of the BP

> family experience that for me is important but is very hard to put

> into words. Because it is so difficult to describe, I feel that it

> doesn't get talked about enough. It would be good if we could create

> some language or a metaphor that can articulate this concept.

>

> It has to do with chaining or compounding, about piling abuses on top

> of abuses. In my own foo, this took the form of lies upon lies. We

> also read it here in stories about nada reading KO's private diary,

> and then punishing KO for what's written there. Can you see what I

> mean about this multi-layered violation? Other stories about KOs

> being molested, and then nada punishing the abused child for saying

> such things. And the perpetrator being left free to abuse another

> child, and on and on ... More unhappiness on top of more unhappiness.

>

> Further extending these chains-of-abuse are that they can go on

> for many years. When my own nada was dying of cancer, she was

> complaining about traumatic events from my early childhood. How

> many of these rages was she feeling all during her life, all at the

> same time? Even if we managed to come to some agreement on one

> incident, she'd figure that there was something else that I should

> be punished for.

>

> I would like some help thinking through this stuff. In the recovery

> literature this is probably associated with PTSD, like the

> experiences of prisoners of war, getting no relief from their

> discomfort.

>

> And it's not just external. Qwerty's provocative questions about,

> was I a victim of abuse or was I not, and was it 'bad' or was it

> just 'normal'? This shows how the mental agitation continues years

> later without calming down. We know from KO stories that it often

> takes into one's 30s or 40s or later in life to begin getting a

> grip on this stuff -- if ever. I see the kid-of as being under a

> constant barrage of negative and conflicting messages, both outside

> and inside. We all know the phrase 'adding insult to injury'. How

> about 'adding insult to injury to unjust punishment to lies to

> humiliation to gossip to gaslighting to disappointment', and back to

> insult again? It's these cascade effects that I'm trying to get at.

>

> I mentioned the image of secret agent Maxwell Smart walking through

> doors-after-doors. This sort of captures the sense of all these

> layerings -- the multiple separations that KOs feel from a free,

> serene reality. But I'm still thinking about it, if anyone has any

> ideas, or if there are writings on this kind of mental picture.

>

> Today I'm thinking about a bat cave. The KO lives in a bat cave.

> At any time, the bats could start swarming again. If you stand real

> still, invisible, then you might not disrupt them. You can also

> try to fit in with them and become a bat. You can also try to fight

> them. You might be able to out-smart them once in a while, but there

> are always more coming at you. You can't fight them all off.

>

> Sorry to be sounding this paranoid, but that's how I see the

> borderline family -- a place where there is no relief possible.

> Even things seem calm for a minute, you're worried about what's

> coming next. I'm calling this compound or cascading stress.

>

>

>

>

> > I found it on YouTube. If you liked my visualization about secret

> > agent Maxwell Smart as a metaphor for KO struggles in the BPD

> family,

> > here's the opening trailer ...

> >

>

>

[Guest guest]

> Here's a suggestion for a term: " reverberating berating " . I like

> the use of the words, especially in the multiple meanings and

> etymology of the word " reverberate " ...

That's pretty descriptive, writermanque.

Here's a typical scenario:

Young KO is worrying about something. In the 'normal'

world, KO is supposed to be provided with comfort and

encouragement from loving adults. But instead, nada

is raging, screaming that KO deserves all the suffering

that s/he gets and more ...

Nada's raging is reverberating and bouncing all

over the place. Inside KO's head, troubling thoughts

are also reverberating. These internal and external

reverberations also bounce off of one another, amping

up the noise that KO has to live with all the time.

Years later, KO will still hear this noise reverberating

from time to time.

The word 'reverberating' expresses pretty well the

concept of compound or cascading stress.

Thanks for writing,

[Guest guest]

Your description of multiple layers of abuse was like a madeleine

cookie to Proust. I went back to that old familiar feeling which I

symbolize as an enormous weight crushing my body. The knowledge that

if nothing bad is happening now, it surely will very soon. The

low-level, constant depression that taints everything I see and feel

like a thick layer of dust on furniture. Barely feeling anything at

all, going about life sleepwalking--there but not.

***********

When she's raging, time moves at a glacial pace. I hear the screaming

but not the words, I can see her face, monstrous, contorted by rage

like one of those scary actors in the ukiyo-e cards my dad brought

home from Japan. If I can stand it just a little longer, it'll end and

when she leaves I can be by myself. Then I can cry without anyone to

shout at me about it. I can lie on the carpet and read a book--immerse

myself in some other world that isn't here.

Tomorrow I will go to school, and spend hours away from home. When I

come home, I can look forward to the next day of school, or spend the

afternoon at the babysitter's house. All I have to do is make sure not

to talk to her unless I have to. If she asks me a question, I'll give

her the shortest of answers. When she's done being mad that I don't

talk to her, she'll find something else to be mad about and I can go

to my room. Maybe she'll scream at my brother and leave me alone. I'll

bring my cat along because she loves me.

qwerty

>

> I have been thinking about a particular enduring effect of the BP

> family experience that for me is important but is very hard to put

> into words. Because it is so difficult to describe, I feel that it

> doesn't get talked about enough. It would be good if we could create

> some language or a metaphor that can articulate this concept.

>

> It has to do with chaining or compounding, about piling abuses on top

> of abuses.