A long hello.

[useyourwords]

Hi, all. I'm a written/verbal person, so it's hard to keep this short. I'm trying! Endless gratitude to anyone who reads this novel.

I suspect my mother has BPD. She changed mental/physical illnesses with the seasons, flaunting each proudly.  We were in a fundamental, exclusive, oppressive religious group, and the rest of the world was evil/scary. My siblings and I were homeschooled, but when Mom got "too sick" or we were "too much to handle," she'd put us in public school for a bit. However, "public schoolers were dumb and bad," and we were different//smarter/holier. We rotated through this cycle probably 10 times. We lived in a rural town, so were in isolation unless we were in school. My parents had no friends. I had a handful of short-lived friendships. I had no privacy--everything I did/said/thought was brought to the spotlight and shamed. Constant humiliation. Our house was rife with mom's chaos, but anything that made us human--emotions, imperfections, sexuality, friends--came with immense shame. My mom cycled in and out of psych wards & treatment facilities. And, of course, this all seemed normal to us. It didn't interfere with my functioning at the time. My father is a decent man, but detached. My only interactions with him were when I was being punished. My mother had a deep hatred of men...all they wanted from you was sex, and she instilled this in me. This made me kind of hate my father, which probably reinforced to him that he should be detached from me.

I was the youngest and the problem child. I was and am a highly emotional, perceptive, opinionated, stubborn person, and I've always hated this about myself. There were daily screaming matches... Why couldn't I just be a good person, more like my sister? Too manipulative/dramatic/satanic. I desperately wished I could just be a "good" person and that I'd wake up and not be the defective person that I was. This is where I struggle the most. Some days, I can say, "I was the scapegoat/truth-teller. My family ganged up on me because I was honest about the dysfunction, and this wasn't okay for them to do." But most of the time, I see myself as this evil child, spewing out harsh words to everyone, having uncontrollable emotions, etc. How could everyone be wrong about me? I honestly couldn't tell you which reality is the correct reality, which means I don't know which version of me is the correct one, either. As I'm typing this, I feel like I'm manipulating whomever is reading into feeling sorry for me. Every time I express an emotion or opinion, I'm not sure if I'm manipulating the people around me or if I'm truly feeling that. I can't trust myself.

My husband is supportive in all of this, if not a bit perplexed. He & his family are so normal it's weird  I tend to keep him at a distance since trust issues, etc. I make him out to be an insensitive robot who's incapable of understanding emotion. Have had some insight, though...*If* he is a caring, compassionate person, then he must be lying about loving me, because I'm obviously unworthy of love--duh. So if he's a robot, then I don't have to deal with the pain of being lied to or, worse, the pain of truly being loved unconditionally.

My mother isn't a bad person. She's incredibly troubled, has no self-esteem or sense of self, hates herself so much. I don't think she intentionally hurts people or finds pleasure in watching people suffer. I think she hurts people because that's her primary way of reacting to the world. She had a narcissistic, sexually abusive father. So maybe she's not BPD; maybe she's C-PTSD. In my mind, we cannot have the same disorder. We can't be the same person; that terrifies me. But I see so much of myself in her. Now that I'm an adult, she says I was always her favorite, we're "kindred spirits," etc. My whole family is a lot nicer to me now, which messes with my reality-confusion even more.

At the moment, she's "an alcoholic," and went to rehab on New Year's after attempting suicide because I enforced my boundaries with her. I haven't officially been blamed yet, but I anticipate it. Since then, I've been in shut-down mode, back to the ol' can't-leave-the-house routine yet again.

I've read through the threads about BPD vs C-PTSD so many times, and I honestly can't see much difference. And if there's not much difference, that means I *am* like my mother after all. How on earth could I wind up with C-PTSD if she doesn't have BPD? Can you develop C-PTSD by being raised by a person who also has it? This is all so confusing, but I desperately need to make rational sense of it and put all the puzzle pieces together. That's the only way I can handle/validate my emotions, honestly. I already have absolutely no idea who I am or how others perceive me, so to add in an existential crisis is a bit overwhelming, to say the least. Does the time ever come when I don't deeply hate myself for existing? Anybody made it to that point?

[Kizzie]

Hi and welcome to OOTS UseYourVoice    I love your pseudonym as speaking up is actually a huge part of recovery and no doubt here you will come to appreciate your "highly emotional, perceptive, opinionated, stubborn" side.     By coming here you are taking a big step towards not hating yourself, becoming more self-compassionate and calming that overactive critical and shaming inner voice that is part and parcel of CPTSD unfortunately. Kudos to you 

With respect to CPTSD versus BPD, one way of differentiating between the two is whether or not your M is willing and able to be self-reflective.  Would she ever show up on this forum asking the questions that you have asked and sharing her self as you have done? You wrote that " I don't think she intentionally hurts people or finds pleasure in watching people suffer. I think she hurts people because that's her primary way of reacting to the world. She had a narcissistic, sexually abusive father."  She likely is BPD, sees the world much differently than you and behaves accordingly. My NPD M and B do the same thing, they live according to to the rules of their disorder which I don't understand (and don't want to - too many years of second guessing crazy behaviour). 

I honestly believe that something is broken or missing in them that is not in you or I.  Nowadays I picture a continuum which ranges from healthy to disordered personality. Those of us with CPTSD landed at a certain point before which a personality disorder develops which for me explains why we share many of the same symptoms, but also why we are different. We have a trauma disorder while they developed a personality disorder, similar but different.

Well I've been a bit long winded lol, but I hope you will feel reassured - you are definitely in a safe place to use your words   

[Whobuddy]

I identify with many parts of your writing. Thank you for being open and sharing here at OOTS.

Those kind of churches are perfect places for controlling, manipulating people, even psychopaths. I went to a place like that from the time I was 15 to about the age of 30. I went because the people seemed happy and friendly and got stuck because they shamed me into never leaving. I had no idea I had cptsd at that time. Also, I felt that I voluntarily went so it was my own fault and I never asked for help getting out.

Yes, the world was supposed to be evil/scary and the believers in the church were right and everyone else was wrong. Black and white. No grey. I didn't really buy into it wholeheartedly but I was scared to leave. When circumstances finally forced me out, I was a bit surprised that I did not get struck dead by lightning!

Anyway, enough about me. Welcome to OOTS, you will find a lot of wisdom and support here. And you will notice that we all have experience with spouses, friends, relations, even therapists that try to be supportive like your husband but don't really get where we are coming from. That is what is so great about OOTS. People here get it!

[flookadelic]

Hello useyourwords

Sounds depressingly familiar...I grew up around born again Pentacostle Evangelical speaking in tongues madness. My much older brother was chronically schizophrenic; so we both ended up having the exorcisms. Basically well meaning but utterly lost people who had no idea of the extreme damage they were causing. The disruption of constantly moving from one house to the next on a constant basis...Perhaps if I had believed I might have had an easier time...anyways...

I have found, that over time and consistent (but gentle) effort with a particular practice based on acceptance and forgiveness of horrendous thoughts and feelings, I now have two heads in one. One is my traumatised brain, spewing out trauma, doubts, anger, fears, uncertainties, "the whole bloody lot" The other is my mind, watching it all and realising that none of the hurt and the pain and the horror and the crap are my enemies to be fought against, to be on a war footing with. Rather they are my wounds, to be treated with love, compassion and insight.

So seeing them differently helps me detach from the traumatised brain with the neural pathways from *. Because before it was instant war, no questions asked.

I realised that I always had a relationship with my thoughts and feelings and changed the nature of that relationship to become their healer and not remain their enemy. They pop up umpteem times a day and I have learned to be loving and kind to them umpteen times a day.

Which is why I have two experiences in one head, the trauma (brain) and a loving, compassionate response to it (my mind).

It is *slowly* and I mean slowly beginning to open up gaps between attacks, and the severity of the attacks are a little less, after several years of applying gentle but persistent effort. But even as it stands, to have that space between "brain" and "mind" is so helpful. I may never reach the end of it, could be run over by a bus tomorrow. But in my own way I have discovered that Love is the answer that I have come across, and whatever happens, happens. There are as many approaches as there are people with CPTSD! I certainly have great respect for them all and in our right to choose what's best for us!

But welcome to a kind, non-judgemental space and I hope you feel at home here. Flooky