Re: flashbacks (just needing support, I guess)

[Guest guest]

That's what's so *wrong* about pd people being allowed to raise children, is

that they can and do *bully* their own children just as bad as or worse than any

schoolyard bully.

I think it does profound damage to a child's sense of self-worth if the insults,

torments, denigrations, and humiliations are coming from her own mommy or daddy.

Worst of all, it makes the child believe that she must deserve the torment and

sets her up to be similarly tormented at school and by potential mates.

Emotional torture is savage, its sadistic, its cruelty for cruelty's sake and

its all the worse for being perpetrated against someone who can't fight back,

like setting puppies on fire and laughing while they scream: its wrong.

It makes me wish that for every nasty, hurtful comment a pd parent dishes out,

they'd get an immediate hard punch in the nose.

I think that's the only thing that would train a pd to understand that its wrong

to torment your own child. It wouldn't teach them empathy or compassion, but it

*would* train them to just shut the hell up if they can't say anything positive

or nurturing.

-Annie

> >

> > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from childhood that

> > truly hurt you?

> > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm making

> > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> >

> > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today at 39,

> > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked about.

> > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that what I

> > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's rooted in a

lot

> > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My entire

> > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this emotional

abuse,

> > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing about me

> > and everything about them.

> >

> > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had somewhat

> > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of silky

> > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot. I loved

> > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback over,

> > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it. No one

> > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that important.

> >

> > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I begged and

> > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She refused.

> > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as usual, never

> > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the following

> > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand, telling me

> > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd walk

> > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken me a week

to get

> > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I got a

> > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on favorite dress,

it

> > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and my

mother

> > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I started

> > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go with her

and

> > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> >

> > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not 'abuse'

> > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents, it's the

> > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many problems.

> > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting remarks,

the

> > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs to be

> > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her phobia of

> > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of, invalidated, never

> > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions, needs.

> > I could go on and on....

> > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as I did.

> > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I wonder....my

> > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

> >

[Guest guest]

I agree with you, Annie. Your parents are the ones who are supposed to love

you the most in this world ( at least as a child) and protect you. When

THEY'RE the ones doing the bullying, it really destroys the self worth of

that child ( " if mommy and daddy dont even love me, I must be unlovable! " )

Jackie

That's what's so *wrong* about pd people being allowed to raise children, is

that they can and do *bully* their own children just as bad as or worse than

any schoolyard bully.

I think it does profound damage to a child's sense of self-worth if the

insults, torments, denigrations, and humiliations are coming from her own

mommy or daddy. Worst of all, it makes the child believe that she must

deserve the torment and sets her up to be similarly tormented at school and

by potential mates. Emotional torture is savage, its sadistic, its cruelty

for cruelty's sake and its all the worse for being perpetrated against

someone who can't fight back, like setting puppies on fire and laughing

while they scream: its wrong.

It makes me wish that for every nasty, hurtful comment a pd parent dishes

out, they'd get an immediate hard punch in the nose.

I think that's the only thing that would train a pd to understand that its

wrong to torment your own child. It wouldn't teach them empathy or

compassion, but it *would* train them to just shut the hell up if they can't

say anything positive or nurturing.

-Annie

[Guest guest]

The giddy nervous laugh has always troubled me too because it always appears at

completely inappropriate times. Sometimes I think it is because nada has

absolutely no clue what to do or say at the time so she gets nervous and laughs.

That only makes the situation even more troubling and uncomfortable for me. It's

as if something happens and the cue card that flashes in her brain to tell her

how to respond doesn't appear. She is then at a complete loss of what to do or

say so she reacts with that stupid laugh she has because she has to do

something. Or, the wrong cue card appears and she goes with it even though it is

not an appropriate response. The " laugh " has caused me a lot of pain over the

years.

Hugs,

Abby

>

> , this sounds so much like my family and my experiences.

>

> My parents laughed at me when I walked 3 miles to a friend's house because

they wouldn't drive me (not once, all summer; i was so bored).

>

> My mother and brother laughed when I said my boyfriend was kind of an ugly kid

(because apparently they thought he was still ugly, so I broke up with him).

>

> Parents laughed when they saw me pick up a very old piece of dog poo with my

hands (it wouldn't stay in the shovel. they watched me from the window and

laughed at me when i came in).

>

> Nada had a field day laughing about how she almost killed my cat with a 15

minute dryer spin, though I begged her to stop because it was so upsetting to

me.

>

> Something about my brother being old enough to gang up on me with my Nada was

particularly hurtful and disturbing.

>

> Father telling me he can see what I'm trying to hide when I exit the camper to

change my tampon in the woods. Why couldn't I just be allowed to be discreet?

Is there something funny about my period?

>

> Nada quizzing me after much begging for her help for spelling bee and laughing

me out of the room when I miss a couple.

>

> When I was 19, I was watching Oprah and a man was on there talking about how

painful it was to be bullied in school. Nada walks in, watches for a minute,

yells at the guy to " get over it " , laughs, and says, " Isn't that what you say

happened to YOU. " All full of glee and giggles. Yes, nada, I was suicidal over

the bullying. Glad it was so much fun for YOU.

>

> These are just the things I remember, and individually, they don't amount to

much, but put them together, and they amount to much anger, shame and hate.

>

> I can so so so see your story, because I lived it!

>

> Hey mom, I really want to go to church.

>

> " No. " (you don't matter; i have all the power).

>

> " OK, I'll make it happen for myself " (make my own dreams come true)

>

> " Ha ha ha you ruined your favorite dress. You are so stupid and worthless and

we all find it so amusing that we control your destiny and it's FUN for us when

you HURT. "

>

> *deep breath*

>

> That is really, really painful. Not insignificant at all.

>

> -Deanna

>

[Guest guest]

Annie,

" Torment " is a perfect word for it. When I was about 7, I was at my grandparents

house and my uncle and his then girlfriend were watching tv. A commercial for a

horror movie came on and I became frightened. Every time the commercial came on

tv after that it was clear that I was afraid. (No remote to switch the channel

then) Nada noticed this and used to taunt me about the movie. At one point she

chased me around the house pretending she was the character I was afraid of. She

terrifed me and I started to cry. My father told her to stop. He said " can't you

see she's scared. " Nada just laughed (that freakin' laugh) and said she didn't

know I was really afraid. She was just playing with me.

I was also bullied as a child. As an adult I look back and can see why. I was a

weird kid. I never said much. I didn't know how to act socially because I had

nada as a role model. Make no wonder they picked on me. I would have been able

to handle the school stuff better if I didn't have to go through the same crap

at home. There really was no safe place to be because not only did the kids

break me down, so did nada. I didn't know how or have the confidence to stand up

for myself to either of them.

Abby

> > >

> > > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from childhood that

> > > truly hurt you?

> > > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm making

> > > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> > >

> > > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today at 39,

> > > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked about.

> > > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that what I

> > > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's rooted in a

lot

> > > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My entire

> > > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this emotional

abuse,

> > > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing about me

> > > and everything about them.

> > >

> > > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had somewhat

> > > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of silky

> > > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot. I

loved

> > > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback over,

> > > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it. No one

> > > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that important.

> > >

> > > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I begged

and

> > > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She

refused.

> > > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as usual,

never

> > > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the

following

> > > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand, telling

me

> > > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd walk

> > > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken me a

week to get

> > > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I got a

> > > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on favorite

dress, it

> > > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and my

mother

> > > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I started

> > > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go with her

and

> > > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> > >

> > > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not 'abuse'

> > > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents, it's the

> > > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many problems.

> > > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting remarks,

the

> > > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs to be

> > > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her phobia

of

> > > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of, invalidated,

never

> > > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions, needs.

> > > I could go on and on....

> > > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as I did.

> > > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I

wonder....my

> > > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

[Guest guest]

My mother use her tongue as such a sword and for some reason, she never

took my side on anything. If I got into a neighborhood fight with another

child, she always took the other child's side. Always, no questions asked, even

if it wasn't my fault. I just never felt defended or protected. And then

something happened at school, she'd always embarrass me by marching off up

there like she was the queen of the school pretending to defend me. It was

horrible. I just grew up believing everything was my fault and I wasn't

worthy of another person's loved, affection, forgiveness, trust, or anything.

Honest to God, my mother's abuse was much worse than any sexual abuse I

went through at the hands of her uncle and she never laid a finger on me

except for an occasional spanking.

In a message dated 9/18/2009 11:30:17 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time,

abby_doo@... writes:

The giddy nervous laugh has always troubled me too because it always

appears at completely inappropriate times. Sometimes I think it is because nada

has absolutely no clue what to do or say at the time so she gets nervous

and laughs. That only makes the situation even more troubling and

uncomfortable for me. It's as if something happens and the cue card that

flashes in

her brain to tell her how to respond doesn't appear. She is then at a

complete loss of what to do or say so she reacts with that stupid laugh she has

because she has to do something. Or, the wrong cue card appears and she goes

with it even though it is not an appropriate response. The " laugh " has

caused me a lot of pain over the years.

Hugs,

Abby

>

> , this sounds so much like my family and my experiences.

>

> My parents laughed at me when I walked 3 miles to a friend's house

because they wouldn't drive me (not once, all summer; i was so bored).

>

> My mother and brother laughed when I said my boyfriend was kind of an

ugly kid (because apparently they thought he was still ugly, so I broke up

with him).

>

> Parents laughed when they saw me pick up a very old piece of dog poo

with my hands (it wouldn't stay in the shovel. they watched me from the window

and laughed at me when i came in).

>

> Nada had a field day laughing about how she almost killed my cat with a

15 minute dryer spin, though I begged her to stop because it was so

upsetting to me.

>

> Something about my brother being old enough to gang up on me with my

Nada was particularly hurtful and disturbing.

>

> Father telling me he can see what I'm trying to hide when I exit the

camper to change my tampon in the woods. Why couldn't I just be allowed to be

discreet? Is there something funny about my period?

>

> Nada quizzing me after much begging for her help for spelling bee and

laughing me out of the room when I miss a couple.

>

> When I was 19, I was watching Oprah and a man was on there talking about

how painful it was to be bullied in school. Nada walks in, watches for a

minute, yells at the guy to " get over it " , laughs, and says, " Isn't that

what you say happened to YOU. " All full of glee and giggles. Yes, nada, I was

suicidal over the bullying. Glad it was so much fun for YOU.

>

> These are just the things I remember, and individually, they don't

amount to much, but put them together, and they amount to much anger, shame and

hate.

>

> I can so so so see your story, because I lived it!

>

> Hey mom, I really want to go to church.

>

> " No. " (you don't matter; i have all the power).

>

> " OK, I'll make it happen for myself " (make my own dreams come true)

>

> " Ha ha ha you ruined your favorite dress. You are so stupid and

worthless and we all find it so amusing that we control your destiny and it's

FUN

for us when you HURT. "

>

> *deep breath*

>

> That is really, really painful. Not insignificant at all.

>

> -Deanna

>

[Guest guest]

Abby, I was the same way. I wasn't bullied in school, but I was socially

inept. I was never hugged so when someone would try to hug me, I'd just stand

there because I didn't know how to respond or what to do in return. My

sister and I were just discussing the other day that we were never told we

were loved.

In a message dated 9/18/2009 11:46:56 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time,

abby_doo@... writes:

Annie,

" Torment " is a perfect word for it. When I was about 7, I was at my

grandparents house and my uncle and his then girlfriend were watching tv. A

commercial for a horror movie came on and I became frightened. Every time the

commercial came on tv after that it was clear that I was afraid. (No remote

to switch the channel then) Nada noticed this and used to taunt me about the

movie. At one point she chased me around the house pretending she was the

character I was afraid of. She terrifed me and I started to cry. My father

told her to stop. He said " can't you see she's scared. " Nada just laughed

(that freakin' laugh) and said she didn't know I was really afraid. She was

just playing with me.

I was also bullied as a child. As an adult I look back and can see why. I

was a weird kid. I never said much. I didn't know how to act socially

because I had nada as a role model. Make no wonder they picked on me. I would

have been able to handle the school stuff better if I didn't have to go

through the same crap at home. There really was no safe place to be because not

only did the kids break me down, so did nada. I didn't know how or have the

confidence to stand up for myself to either of them.

Abby

> > >

> > > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from childhood

that

> > > truly hurt you?

> > > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm

making

> > > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> > >

> > > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today at

39,

> > > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked

about.

> > > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that

what I

> > > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's rooted

in a lot

> > > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My

entire

> > > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this

emotional abuse,

> > > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing

about me

> > > and everything about them.

> > >

> > > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had

somewhat

> > > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of

silky

> > > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot. I

loved

> > > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback

over,

> > > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it.

No one

> > > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that important.

> > >

> > > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I

begged and

> > > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She

refused.

> > > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as usual,

never

> > > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the

following

> > > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand,

telling me

> > > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd walk

> > > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken me

a week to get

> > > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I

got a

> > > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on favorite

dress, it

> > > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and my

mother

> > > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I

started

> > > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go with

her and

> > > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> > >

> > > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not

'abuse'

> > > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents, it's

the

> > > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many

problems.

> > > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting

remarks, the

> > > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs to

be

> > > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her

phobia of

> > > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of,

invalidated, never

> > > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions, needs.

> > > I could go on and on....

> > > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as I

did.

> > > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I

wonder....my

> > > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > >

> > > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

> > >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

Annie, you always word things so perfectly. I wish I had the gift to

express myself like you do. My mother was the waif and hermit bpd mother,

sometimes the queen. I don't remember her being the witch, but she might have

been moreso towards my sister and father. In some twisted way, I was the

chosen child and my sister was not, but then...she also talked about me to

people and my sister, so I'm not sure if I was. Looking back on my childhood, I

just feel like she was emotionally absent and basically used me as her

emotional support from the time I was about 2.

In a message dated 9/18/2009 12:07:50 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,

anuria-67854@... writes:

I'm so sorry you had to endure such torment both at home and at school (and

other times, too, if any.)

After watching the documentary on Sam Vaknin, the self-proclaimed

narcissist and psychopath, I found it both amazing and spooky when an

experiment

demonstrated how easily psychopathic bullies can spot the emotionally weak

and defenseless, like a predator targeting the old, sick, injured, or

new-born gazelles in the herd as the easiest prey to attack.

How horrible for you and many of us here that we were born to a mother (or

father) who saw in us merely a ready-made, helpless victim for them to

torture for their own amusement.

Our very vulnerable and tender innocence, our very natural need for their

care and protection, our unconditional love for them... how can that

possibly trigger a parent's hostility and cruelty?

The Witch and Queen " Cluster B " parents treat their children like a cat

treats a mouse, something to torment and stab and bat around for a while

until we stop moving and stop giving them play.

It makes me ill with anger.

-Annie

> > > >

> > > > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from

childhood that

> > > > truly hurt you?

> > > > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm

making

> > > > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> > > >

> > > > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today

at 39,

> > > > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked

about.

> > > > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that

what I

> > > > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's

rooted in a lot

> > > > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My

entire

> > > > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this

emotional abuse,

> > > > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing

about me

> > > > and everything about them.

> > > >

> > > > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had

somewhat

> > > > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of

silky

> > > > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot.

I loved

> > > > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback

over,

> > > > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it.

No one

> > > > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that

important.

> > > >

> > > > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I

begged and

> > > > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She

refused.

> > > > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as

usual, never

> > > > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the

following

> > > > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand,

telling me

> > > > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd

walk

> > > > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken

me a week to get

> > > > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I

got a

> > > > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > > > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on

favorite dress, it

> > > > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and

my mother

> > > > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I

started

> > > > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go

with her and

> > > > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> > > >

> > > > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not

'abuse'

> > > > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents,

it's the

> > > > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many

problems.

> > > > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting

remarks, the

> > > > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs

to be

> > > > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her

phobia of

> > > > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of,

invalidated, never

> > > > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions,

needs.

> > > > I could go on and on....

> > > > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as

I did.

> > > > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I

wonder....my

> > > > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

> > > >

> > >

> >

>

[Guest guest]

I agree with Jackie. My father ONCE stuck up for me and by then I was

grown. I was about 18 and had paid for my own car. My mother wanted me to stay

home on 4th of July and I wanted to go with friends to the riverwalk to see

the fireworks. Not only were my friends as straight laced as they come, but

it was with the church group! She told me there were drunks on the road

and I couldn't go. My friend was having a bar-b-que at his house and everyone

was going afterward to the riverwalk. I lied and told her I was staying at

my friend's house. Well, she called and his mother let her know we had

left. She was furious, had my father drive to my friend's house and got my

car, that I paid for, and took it home. I was terrified to go home. Of course,

it was a big fight and she 'grounded' me. My father said, " what do you

expect from her? she's a good kid. " She then went into a tirade about how she

demanded my respect.

You know, had she been a mother who cared about me, spent time with me,

wanted a relationship with me, it would have been one thing that I had

lied...but she didn't care about anyone but herself and my staying home wasn't

for me, it was for her. She didn't know I was a real person, separate from

her.

In a message dated 9/18/2009 1:28:11 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time,

sleddog@... writes:

aw, thats so sad, Abby !! I was bullied at home by nada and a brother..but

not in the outside world...well, just a little bit once in a great while,

and it was nothing as bad as I got at home...what a terrible thing to do

to

a child !! You're lucky your father stuck up for you. Mine never did, just

turned a deaf ear/blind eye...I like you and wont bully/pick on you :-)

Jackie

Annie,

" Torment " is a perfect word for it. When I was about 7, I was at my

grandparents house and my uncle and his then girlfriend were watching tv.

A

commercial for a horror movie came on and I became frightened. Every time

the commercial came on tv after that it was clear that I was afraid. (No

remote to switch the channel then) Nada noticed this and used to taunt me

about the movie. At one point she chased me around the house pretending

she

was the character I was afraid of. She terrifed me and I started to cry.

My

father told her to stop. He said " can't you see she's scared. " Nada just

laughed (that freakin' laugh) and said she didn't know I was really

afraid.

She was just playing with me.

I was also bullied as a child. As an adult I look back and can see why. I

was a weird kid. I never said much. I didn't know how to act socially

because I had nada as a role model. Make no wonder they picked on me. I

would have been able to handle the school stuff better if I didn't have to

go through the same crap at home. There really was no safe place to be

because not only did the kids break me down, so did nada. I didn't know

how

or have the confidence to stand up for myself to either of them.

Abby

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[Guest guest]

I'm so sorry you had to endure such torment both at home and at school (and

other times, too, if any.)

After watching the documentary on Sam Vaknin, the self-proclaimed narcissist and

psychopath, I found it both amazing and spooky when an experiment demonstrated

how easily psychopathic bullies can spot the emotionally weak and defenseless,

like a predator targeting the old, sick, injured, or new-born gazelles in the

herd as the easiest prey to attack.

How horrible for you and many of us here that we were born to a mother (or

father) who saw in us merely a ready-made, helpless victim for them to torture

for their own amusement.

Our very vulnerable and tender innocence, our very natural need for their care

and protection, our unconditional love for them... how can that possibly trigger

a parent's hostility and cruelty?

The Witch and Queen " Cluster B " parents treat their children like a cat treats a

mouse, something to torment and stab and bat around for a while until we stop

moving and stop giving them play.

It makes me ill with anger.

-Annie

> > > >

> > > > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from childhood

that

> > > > truly hurt you?

> > > > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm

making

> > > > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> > > >

> > > > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today at

39,

> > > > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked

about.

> > > > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that what

I

> > > > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's rooted in

a lot

> > > > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My

entire

> > > > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this emotional

abuse,

> > > > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing about

me

> > > > and everything about them.

> > > >

> > > > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had

somewhat

> > > > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of silky

> > > > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot. I

loved

> > > > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback over,

> > > > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it. No

one

> > > > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that important.

> > > >

> > > > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I begged

and

> > > > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She

refused.

> > > > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as usual,

never

> > > > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the

following

> > > > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand, telling

me

> > > > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd walk

> > > > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken me a

week to get

> > > > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I got

a

> > > > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > > > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on favorite

dress, it

> > > > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and my

mother

> > > > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I

started

> > > > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go with

her and

> > > > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> > > >

> > > > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not

'abuse'

> > > > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents, it's

the

> > > > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many

problems.

> > > > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting

remarks, the

> > > > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs to be

> > > > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her phobia

of

> > > > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of, invalidated,

never

> > > > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions, needs.

> > > > I could go on and on....

> > > > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as I

did.

> > > > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I

wonder....my

> > > > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

> > > >

[Guest guest]

Thanks Annie. The difficulty with all of this is that when memories like that

surface it becomes difficult to look at them rationally because the behavior at

the time was not rational. If someone else was to tell me that his/her mother

did that I would be shocked, but because I experienced it, it is different. As

an adult, it seems like it couldn't possibly have happened because it is

unfathomable that a mother would do that to a child. As a child I experienced

it, but was told by nada she was just playing with and didn't realize I was

really scared. The child in me at the time was horrified because it seemed like

my mother really wanted to hurt me, but what she told me told me that I was

wrong in my perception and my fear was not real. Then I flip back to adult me

and really don't know what to think of it. That has been the difficulty with the

journey. The adult me trying to look rationally at what happened. The adult

child who remembers and the feelings of a shell-shocked child all combined into

one. Sometimes it is surreal and just leaves me baffled by the everything. I

guess it is because I always assumed that abuse happened in other homes,

especially homes with single parents, poor families, alcoholics, etc..you know,

the stereotypical situations, afterall that was what nada said. It couldnt'

possibly happen in a home with two well-educated, professional people who were

prominent in the community, well-liked and relatively well-off finanically. It

took me 35 years to be able to even deal with the possibility. When you toss the

drinking into the mix, it is overwhelming that this is really my life I am

talking about. Nada spent so much talking about other families where these

things went on and being so self-righteous about how perfect our family was that

I could not see what was happening around me. That in itself has made me

question a lot of things.

> > > > >

> > > > > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from childhood

that

> > > > > truly hurt you?

> > > > > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm

making

> > > > > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> > > > >

> > > > > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today at

39,

> > > > > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked

about.

> > > > > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that

what I

> > > > > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's rooted

in a lot

> > > > > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My

entire

> > > > > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this emotional

abuse,

> > > > > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing about

me

> > > > > and everything about them.

> > > > >

> > > > > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had

somewhat

> > > > > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of

silky

> > > > > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot. I

loved

> > > > > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback

over,

> > > > > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it. No

one

> > > > > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that

important.

> > > > >

> > > > > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I begged

and

> > > > > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She

refused.

> > > > > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as usual,

never

> > > > > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the

following

> > > > > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand,

telling me

> > > > > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd walk

> > > > > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken me a

week to get

> > > > > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I

got a

> > > > > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > > > > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on favorite

dress, it

> > > > > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and my

mother

> > > > > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I

started

> > > > > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go with

her and

> > > > > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> > > > >

> > > > > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not

'abuse'

> > > > > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents, it's

the

> > > > > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many

problems.

> > > > > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting

remarks, the

> > > > > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs to

be

> > > > > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her

phobia of

> > > > > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of, invalidated,

never

> > > > > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions, needs.

> > > > > I could go on and on....

> > > > > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as I

did.

> > > > > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I

wonder....my

> > > > > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

[Guest guest]

aw, thats so sad, Abby !! I was bullied at home by nada and a brother..but

not in the outside world...well, just a little bit once in a great while,

and it was nothing as bad as I got at home...what a terrible thing to do to

a child !! You're lucky your father stuck up for you. Mine never did, just

turned a deaf ear/blind eye...I like you and wont bully/pick on you :-)

Jackie

Annie,

" Torment " is a perfect word for it. When I was about 7, I was at my

grandparents house and my uncle and his then girlfriend were watching tv. A

commercial for a horror movie came on and I became frightened. Every time

the commercial came on tv after that it was clear that I was afraid. (No

remote to switch the channel then) Nada noticed this and used to taunt me

about the movie. At one point she chased me around the house pretending she

was the character I was afraid of. She terrifed me and I started to cry. My

father told her to stop. He said " can't you see she's scared. " Nada just

laughed (that freakin' laugh) and said she didn't know I was really afraid.

She was just playing with me.

I was also bullied as a child. As an adult I look back and can see why. I

was a weird kid. I never said much. I didn't know how to act socially

because I had nada as a role model. Make no wonder they picked on me. I

would have been able to handle the school stuff better if I didn't have to

go through the same crap at home. There really was no safe place to be

because not only did the kids break me down, so did nada. I didn't know how

or have the confidence to stand up for myself to either of them.

Abby

[Guest guest]

I agree !! During a fight with my nada, she demanded respect and told me I

didn't have any for her, and I told her she had to earn my respect, she

doesn't get it just because she gave birth to me...I was grounded, but it

didn't change my mind !!

Jackie

You know, had she been a mother who cared about me, spent time with me,

wanted a relationship with me, it would have been one thing that I had

lied...but she didn't care about anyone but herself and my staying home

wasn't

for me, it was for her. She didn't know I was a real person, separate from

her.

[Guest guest]

my nada was the same way...she always assumed I was the one who was wrong!!

she never believed anything I said, even if I had witnesses

Jackie

My mother use her tongue as such a sword and for some reason, she never

took my side on anything. If I got into a neighborhood fight with another

child, she always took the other child's side. Always, no questions asked,

even

if it wasn't my fault. I just never felt defended or protected. And then

something happened at school, she'd always embarrass me by marching off up

there like she was the queen of the school pretending to defend me. It was

horrible. I just grew up believing everything was my fault and I wasn't

worthy of another person's loved, affection, forgiveness, trust, or

anything.

Honest to God, my mother's abuse was much worse than any sexual abuse I

went through at the hands of her uncle and she never laid a finger on me

except for an occasional spanking.

[Guest guest]

Sleddog, my nada did that too! Automatically the blame was placed squarely on me

no matter what. Always and without exception. I learned finally to tell her

nothing, reveal no details, and discuss no problems with her.

I do remember one time in high school she pointed out a giant bruise on my jaw

and asked me how I got it. I couldn't think of a cover story on-the-spot so I

truthfully told her a bully in high school had attacked me and tried to beat me

up. She immediately berated, blamed, and shamed me for " fighting. " Never mind

that I had complained to the police about this bully harassing me, other people

in school had witnessed the bully assaulting me unprovoked, and that this bully

had thrown eggs on our family car out of hatred for me. Which of course, I got

blamed for also.

>

> my nada was the same way...she always assumed I was the one who was wrong!!

> she never believed anything I said, even if I had witnesses

>

> Jackie

>

>

>

> My mother use her tongue as such a sword and for some reason, she never

> took my side on anything. If I got into a neighborhood fight with another

> child, she always took the other child's side. Always, no questions asked,

> even

> if it wasn't my fault. I just never felt defended or protected. And then

> something happened at school, she'd always embarrass me by marching off up

> there like she was the queen of the school pretending to defend me. It was

> horrible. I just grew up believing everything was my fault and I wasn't

> worthy of another person's loved, affection, forgiveness, trust, or

> anything.

>

> Honest to God, my mother's abuse was much worse than any sexual abuse I

> went through at the hands of her uncle and she never laid a finger on me

> except for an occasional spanking.

>

[Guest guest]

Thanks, Hummingbird. I'm sorry that you were treated like an object by your

nada, sounds like she parentalized (parentified?) you: it was your job to

nurture her. Its so wrong to do that to a little child. Those types of nadas

are in effect using and feeding on their child's life in a complete reversal of

the natural order of things. Its been described as being an " emotional vampire "

in articles I've read.

So wrong and creepy.

-Annie

> > > > >

> > > > > Do you ever do something mundane and have a flashback from

> childhood that

> > > > > truly hurt you?

> > > > > Do you ever have moments where you say, 'that wasn't as bad as I'm

> making

> > > > > it out to be?' and make excuses for your parent?

> > > > >

> > > > > I always felt laughed at/talked about in my family and even today

> at 39,

> > > > > hate it when I feel like someone doesn't like me or I feel talked

> about.

> > > > > Also, as an adult, I came to feel like I wasn't important and that

> what I

> > > > > thought or felt didn't matter to other people. I'm sure it's

> rooted in a lot

> > > > > of things, but I never felt worthy to be saved from my mother. My

> entire

> > > > > family stood around and did nothing while I lived under this

> emotional abuse,

> > > > > so what did that say about me? My therapist says it says nothing

> about me

> > > > > and everything about them.

> > > > >

> > > > > At any rate, it has definitely affected my self esteem and I had

> somewhat

> > > > > of a " flashback " the other night when I burned a hole in a pair of

> silky

> > > > > pants I was ironing. I'm a dufus, I know. I got the iron too hot.

> I loved

> > > > > those silky army green pants. :o/ What a silly thing to flashback

> over,

> > > > > right? No one grabbed the iron and deliberately burned me with it.

> No one

> > > > > forced me to stand for hours and iron. It wasn't near that

> important.

> > > > >

> > > > > Well, anyhoo,when I was 11, I wanted to go to church SO bad. I

> begged and

> > > > > pleaded with my older sister (who was 19) to take me with her. She

> refused.

> > > > > My mother had promised to take me earlier in the week, but as

> usual, never

> > > > > kept her promises and told me Saturday night she wouldn't go the

> following

> > > > > morning. I can still see her standing there, cigarette in hand,

> telling me

> > > > > to stop nagging her. So I was determined to go and decided I'd

> walk

> > > > > despite the fact that it was across town and it would have taken

> me a week to get

> > > > > there. In my 11 year old mind, I'd hitchhike or catch a bus. So I

> got a

> > > > > silky dress and pulled out the ironing board and began to iron it.

> > > > > Instead, I got the iron too hot and the second I laid it on

> favorite dress, it

> > > > > burned a huge iron-shaped hole right in the center. My sister and

> my mother

> > > > > burst out laughing and then told me I was being ridiculous when I

> started

> > > > > crying. I remember my sister screaming at me that I couldn't go

> with her and

> > > > > my mother continuing to stand and laugh as I ran upstairs crying.

> > > > >

> > > > > Now, I can see how that incident in and of itself is probably not

> 'abuse'

> > > > > per se. Just insensitive. But like most victims of BPD parents,

> it's the

> > > > > multiple effect of everything that happened that causes so many

> problems.

> > > > > The control, the lack of privacy, the invalidation, the cutting

> remarks, the

> > > > > breaking of promises, the smothering for her own emotional needs

> to be

> > > > > met, the fear of her constant threats of sucide, dealing with her

> phobia of

> > > > > lightening, of driving, of everything, being made fun of,

> invalidated, never

> > > > > being considered as a real person who has feelings, emotions,

> needs.

> > > > > I could go on and on....

> > > > > My therapist said it's a miracle I survived with as much sanity as

> I did.

> > > > > I escaped BPD although I have lots of 'fleas' and sometimes I

> wonder....my

> > > > > repayment was a dissociative disorder.

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > >

> > > > > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

> > > > >

> > > >

> > >

> >

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

>

[Guest guest]

yup, that sounds just like my nada. Whenever something happened to me, if

she found out about it, she'd ask me what did *I* do to make this other

person react so badly !!! I haven't confided in nada since I was in the 6th

grade, and that was a LONG time ago :-)

Jackie

Sleddog, my nada did that too! Automatically the blame was placed squarely

on me no matter what. Always and without exception. I learned finally to

tell her nothing, reveal no details, and discuss no problems with her.

I do remember one time in high school she pointed out a giant bruise on my

jaw and asked me how I got it. I couldn't think of a cover story on-the-spot

so I truthfully told her a bully in high school had attacked me and tried to

beat me up. She immediately berated, blamed, and shamed me for " fighting. "

Never mind that I had complained to the police about this bully harassing

me, other people in school had witnessed the bully assaulting me unprovoked,

and that this bully had thrown eggs on our family car out of hatred for me.

Which of course, I got blamed for also.