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Why BillB?

I was adopted by my stepfather. My mother fed me a bunch of lies about my real dad and I grew up accepting he never wanted to know me. I didn't find out the truth until after she passed. I still don't understand why no one in the family told me the truth about him. I guess no one wanted to cross my mother. Anyway, several years after mum passed, I plucked up the courage to try and find my biological dad. That's when I found out the truth. I found a whole new family (half siblings I never knew I had). I went back to the UK and spent 2 glorious weeks getting to know them. Sadly, dad had passed several years before I found them, so I never got to meet him.

I've forgiven my mother and my family for the lies. In honor of the dad I never knew, I bought him a gravestone, and I write under his name (he was an unpublished writer), and my username in this group reflects that. It just seemed appropriate.

And I never realized how writing that brief explanation would make me feel so emotional!

Steve (I prefer to be called Steve; it's just feels too weird otherwise)

Hi everyone. My name is Steve, although I use BillB as my username, but that's another story.

My qualifier? 23 years living crisis-to-crisis with a depressed wife diagnosed with BPD (borderline personality disorder). We came to the US in 2000 with our 2 youngest teenage daughters (we have 4 children). Within 9 months, all 3 were in different psychiatric units. At one stage, one was in VT, one in PA, and their mother was in MD (we lived in NJ, and I worked in Manhattan). My daughters were also diagnosed with BPD and were inpatients for 17 and 29 months respectively. Their mother did everything she could to sabotage their treatment. Doctors refused to discharge them while she was living at home, forcing me to choose between my daughters and my (now ex) wife. I choose my daughters. I witnessed every one of them trying to commit suicide at least once. Every major decision I made required me assessing whether one of them would commit suicide because of it. An ambulance siren still sends shivers down my spine. My daughters eventually returned to the UK, but I decided the only way I could survive was if I stayed here in the States and become a citizen.

I first heard the suggestion I had PTSD back in 2004-5 when my therapist suggested it. Since then, I've come to the conclusion it must be CPTSD, although I often feel like a fraud. Others have been through far worse than me. I spent years doing EMDR therapy, and thought I'd found a miracle cure. Sadly, symptoms have gradually returned over the last couple of years. I've come to realize that this is a life-long journey, and this is the main driver for me joining the group.

I feel I am a survivor, having been happily remarried to a wonderful woman for over 13 years. I have distance, and strict boundaries, between me, my daughters, and my ex-wife. It works. But it can be very hard to accept I have to do this.

Steve