Forums
New posts
Search forums
What's new
New posts
New profile posts
Latest activity
Internet Search
Members
Current visitors
New profile posts
Search profile posts
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
New posts
Search forums
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
Forums
General Discussions
Family of Origin
Family of Origin (FOO) Support Thread Part 2
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="BusynMember" data-source="post: 662916" data-attributes="member: 1550"><p>The reason why it is such a huge insult to be called a borderline is exactly because these individuals are not psychotic and do not have thought disorders and are deliberately cruel, especially those with no inclination to change at all. That's why my sissy chooses to call me a borderline. I was nothing like the description you read, but she still can't let it go because it is truly a slam on the inborn character of the person. I'm not even sure my mom was 100% borderline, but she sure had many traits. She was certainly mean to me. And she had her share of troubling relationships and, like my sister, never could get along right or pick a man capable of having a loving relationship with her. Maybe that was because of herself. Neither my sister or mother ever had true love, although my father DID love my mother. He did not know how to show it and she was almost as hard on him as s he was on me.</p><p></p><p>Borderlines are sad people who chose their Armies and their enemies.</p><p></p><p>Do keep reading. Since every therapist I ever talked to it about said, no, I was clearly not borderline, reading about it isn't going to bother me just because my sister maybe needs to think I am and because at one time I had such a small opinion of my own self that *I* misdiagnosed myself and stupidly told my sister AND brother (facepalm) that I had it. Even though I had never been diagnosed with it, and trust me I've been in therapy since age 23 and I'm almost three times that by now.</p><p></p><p>If somebody wants to use that as an insult, it's a good one since it is hard to disprove, just as it is very hard to prove.</p><p></p><p>But those of us who grew up with personality disordered parents are more likely to have PTSD than a PD ourselves. PD (personality disorder).</p><p></p><p>And, yes, it is scary to face what we had to face with our disordered mothers. But it also explains how they can go forever without forgiving their own children and why they can treat one like a queen and another like dog turd (no offense to dogs). I should have said cows, b ut I like cows too.</p><p></p><p>You should also read up on Narcicistic mothers, which I think may define mine and my sister more than borderline as both were very vain about how they looked, although my mother didn't try to keep up her looks and my sister is obsessed with her looks and "getting attention" from males. At age 50-60, yes, she is still obsessed with being told she is pretty. She is! My feeling is that almost anyone who spends as much energy trying to look good in the latter ages will look good though. So maybe Sis is more the narc than my mother. Either way, they had t he same way of being mean and I know how to be mean their way too. You can't live with that and not learn how to do it.</p><p></p><p>One way is to pick out a diagnosis and say your sister or brother or hated friend has diagnosed borderline and tell that to other people. However, I really have nobody for her to tell who would listen to her. All my kids would laugh at her since their childhoods were not like mine or like the descriptions of those who grew up with borderlines. Even Goneboy would not think that. His seperation is as much about himself as the rest of us...and his own demons...and he is aware.</p><p></p><p>Cedar, keep reading. Your dysfunctional family will come to life in the pages. I highly recommend putting "Experience Project: My Family Doesn't Like Me" into your search engine to read stories that will bring you back to the bad ole days and let you see that, story after story, your family could be substituted for those the of the writer you are reading.</p><p></p><p>You will also seek solace in how many people do not speak to family members, especially siblings. It is so cliche as to almost be normal to see things so differentnly that you don't speak. I started to feel right at home as I read. I even started laughing because it was all so similar.</p><p></p><p>Often it happens after a difficult event, like a death. My grandmother's death amped it up for me since the person who protected me the most from my mother was no longer around and my mother really let the claws come out after that. I was close to my grandmother her entire life, talking to her every day on the phone, like a friend. She often said, inappropriately so, that except for her son, I was the person she loved the most. "I love Brother" and years later when Sister stop refusing to see Grandma she's add "I love brother and sister, but YOU are special to me." It was no secret.</p><p></p><p>Maybe to my mother.</p><p></p><p>My sister had not really sustained a relationship with Grandmother until several years before her death. So my mother, after Grandma died, had Grandmother's furniture renovated to give it to my sister to remember my grandmother by.That was actually a slap in my face on purpose since, of all three of us, my grandmother spent the most time estranged from Sis for no reason. They were not anywhere near as close as me and her. That was the first slap before the disinheritance. Last time I visisted Sis, grandma's beloved renovated furniture was in her basement as secondary furniture. Maybe she has thrown it out by now.</p><p></p><p>That's the essense of borderline. "My fake world will be your world and I will be mean about it too."</p><p></p><p>My grandmother never loved my sister as much as me and she told me so, even right before her death. Brother either. She did love Brother though. Sister was like "Well, it was nice she finally sees me but for years I would have not recognized her if we'd passed one another on the street." Knowing my grandmother, she said very kind things to my sister, but that is what she said to me. And, again, we spoke every single day, sometimes for an hour. And nobody can take those memories away from me.</p><p></p><p>Read, read, read.</p><p></p><p>That is how I finally realized I have lots of brothers and sisters who were scapegoated and survive just fine without the rest of their FOO. I am just glad my FOO is so small that there are not many people to dodge.</p><p></p><p>Cedar, you are strong, hear you roar, in numbers too big to ignore and you know too much to go back and pretend....Cause you've heard it all before, and you've been down there on the floor, no one's every gonna put you there again" (Taken after "I am Woman" sung by Helen Reddy).</p><p></p><p>ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="BusynMember, post: 662916, member: 1550"] The reason why it is such a huge insult to be called a borderline is exactly because these individuals are not psychotic and do not have thought disorders and are deliberately cruel, especially those with no inclination to change at all. That's why my sissy chooses to call me a borderline. I was nothing like the description you read, but she still can't let it go because it is truly a slam on the inborn character of the person. I'm not even sure my mom was 100% borderline, but she sure had many traits. She was certainly mean to me. And she had her share of troubling relationships and, like my sister, never could get along right or pick a man capable of having a loving relationship with her. Maybe that was because of herself. Neither my sister or mother ever had true love, although my father DID love my mother. He did not know how to show it and she was almost as hard on him as s he was on me. Borderlines are sad people who chose their Armies and their enemies. Do keep reading. Since every therapist I ever talked to it about said, no, I was clearly not borderline, reading about it isn't going to bother me just because my sister maybe needs to think I am and because at one time I had such a small opinion of my own self that *I* misdiagnosed myself and stupidly told my sister AND brother (facepalm) that I had it. Even though I had never been diagnosed with it, and trust me I've been in therapy since age 23 and I'm almost three times that by now. If somebody wants to use that as an insult, it's a good one since it is hard to disprove, just as it is very hard to prove. But those of us who grew up with personality disordered parents are more likely to have PTSD than a PD ourselves. PD (personality disorder). And, yes, it is scary to face what we had to face with our disordered mothers. But it also explains how they can go forever without forgiving their own children and why they can treat one like a queen and another like dog turd (no offense to dogs). I should have said cows, b ut I like cows too. You should also read up on Narcicistic mothers, which I think may define mine and my sister more than borderline as both were very vain about how they looked, although my mother didn't try to keep up her looks and my sister is obsessed with her looks and "getting attention" from males. At age 50-60, yes, she is still obsessed with being told she is pretty. She is! My feeling is that almost anyone who spends as much energy trying to look good in the latter ages will look good though. So maybe Sis is more the narc than my mother. Either way, they had t he same way of being mean and I know how to be mean their way too. You can't live with that and not learn how to do it. One way is to pick out a diagnosis and say your sister or brother or hated friend has diagnosed borderline and tell that to other people. However, I really have nobody for her to tell who would listen to her. All my kids would laugh at her since their childhoods were not like mine or like the descriptions of those who grew up with borderlines. Even Goneboy would not think that. His seperation is as much about himself as the rest of us...and his own demons...and he is aware. Cedar, keep reading. Your dysfunctional family will come to life in the pages. I highly recommend putting "Experience Project: My Family Doesn't Like Me" into your search engine to read stories that will bring you back to the bad ole days and let you see that, story after story, your family could be substituted for those the of the writer you are reading. You will also seek solace in how many people do not speak to family members, especially siblings. It is so cliche as to almost be normal to see things so differentnly that you don't speak. I started to feel right at home as I read. I even started laughing because it was all so similar. Often it happens after a difficult event, like a death. My grandmother's death amped it up for me since the person who protected me the most from my mother was no longer around and my mother really let the claws come out after that. I was close to my grandmother her entire life, talking to her every day on the phone, like a friend. She often said, inappropriately so, that except for her son, I was the person she loved the most. "I love Brother" and years later when Sister stop refusing to see Grandma she's add "I love brother and sister, but YOU are special to me." It was no secret. Maybe to my mother. My sister had not really sustained a relationship with Grandmother until several years before her death. So my mother, after Grandma died, had Grandmother's furniture renovated to give it to my sister to remember my grandmother by.That was actually a slap in my face on purpose since, of all three of us, my grandmother spent the most time estranged from Sis for no reason. They were not anywhere near as close as me and her. That was the first slap before the disinheritance. Last time I visisted Sis, grandma's beloved renovated furniture was in her basement as secondary furniture. Maybe she has thrown it out by now. That's the essense of borderline. "My fake world will be your world and I will be mean about it too." My grandmother never loved my sister as much as me and she told me so, even right before her death. Brother either. She did love Brother though. Sister was like "Well, it was nice she finally sees me but for years I would have not recognized her if we'd passed one another on the street." Knowing my grandmother, she said very kind things to my sister, but that is what she said to me. And, again, we spoke every single day, sometimes for an hour. And nobody can take those memories away from me. Read, read, read. That is how I finally realized I have lots of brothers and sisters who were scapegoated and survive just fine without the rest of their FOO. I am just glad my FOO is so small that there are not many people to dodge. Cedar, you are strong, hear you roar, in numbers too big to ignore and you know too much to go back and pretend....Cause you've heard it all before, and you've been down there on the floor, no one's every gonna put you there again" (Taken after "I am Woman" sung by Helen Reddy). ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!! [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Forums
General Discussions
Family of Origin
Family of Origin (FOO) Support Thread Part 2
Top