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Okay all you armchair psychiatrists...
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<blockquote data-quote="DammitJanet" data-source="post: 321284" data-attributes="member: 1514"><p>K... we are pretty darn sure that for me in particular that I inherited the gene for bipolar and that I grew up in a home that was particularly invalidating because from the time I was an infant my mother was verbally abusive. </p><p></p><p>Most mothers sing some sort of silly nursery rhyme or song to their infants and young children to get them to sleep. Quite normal. My mom's song was "Oh she doesnt love her mommy anymore, anymore. Oh she doesnt love her mommy anymore. And the reason that she doesnt love her mommy, is her mommy doesnt love her anymore."</p><p></p><p>I would cry and cry when she sung that to me even as a young infant and she would laugh and laugh thinking it was funny. </p><p></p><p>Dont you think it is odd that I even remember the song over 40 years later? </p><p></p><p>She would run hot and cold on me. Either I was her best friend and she would dress us alike in clothes that she made for us or I was a demon child and relegated to my room to be punished. I never knew from hour to hour which mommy I would have. I dodged items being thrown at me. Phones, kitchen items, food. </p><p></p><p>This was all before I was 10. It got worse after.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="DammitJanet, post: 321284, member: 1514"] K... we are pretty darn sure that for me in particular that I inherited the gene for bipolar and that I grew up in a home that was particularly invalidating because from the time I was an infant my mother was verbally abusive. Most mothers sing some sort of silly nursery rhyme or song to their infants and young children to get them to sleep. Quite normal. My mom's song was "Oh she doesnt love her mommy anymore, anymore. Oh she doesnt love her mommy anymore. And the reason that she doesnt love her mommy, is her mommy doesnt love her anymore." I would cry and cry when she sung that to me even as a young infant and she would laugh and laugh thinking it was funny. Dont you think it is odd that I even remember the song over 40 years later? She would run hot and cold on me. Either I was her best friend and she would dress us alike in clothes that she made for us or I was a demon child and relegated to my room to be punished. I never knew from hour to hour which mommy I would have. I dodged items being thrown at me. Phones, kitchen items, food. This was all before I was 10. It got worse after. [/QUOTE]
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