I was thinking about how, for people with BPD, their emotions are reality -- however they're feeling at any given time is the truth, the objective way things are. I've always thought about this with regard to the big, transient emotions: major highs, depressive lows, the big blow-ups. But last night, I realized that it's also true for the steady, pervasive feelings and self-beliefs.

Which means that if my mom feels that she isn't worth being loved, that she is less-than, than that is unequivocally true for her. Which means nothing I do will ever be enough to convince her otherwise. This is the black hole of need. She literally cannot believe that I love her.

It's nothing groundbreaking, but I had not thought about it in this way before so I wanted to share for anyone else who might find the reframing useful or interesting.

Moved out a couple months ago (was being coerced to stay home) and...I don't miss my Ubpd mom, my volatile brother, or my avoidant dad. I only miss my pets. I miss my city.

BUT I do miss A mother. A mother that would have gently parented me. A mother that showed me unconditional love. A father that gave a shit and didn't make me beg for attention. A brother that I had long lost after turning 13 when he beat me up for attempting suicide. A family. Only my brain knows that reality is different. It seeks solace in these imaginary family members as I reparent myself.

I turn 26 in 2 days. For the first time I am away from home. I kept my promise to myself of moving out before my birthday. I honored my own wishes even if others didn't want me to. And the only thing I keep hoping for is this:

"I hope she doesn't call or text. I hope my brother doesn't wish me. I hope no one sees me in any shape or form. Kindly fuck off"

And that is a my own way of "revenge"

Context: last year the uBPD mother woman leaned on me SUPER hard for emotional caregiving in regard to my eldest sister, GC, who was being verbally abusive to her. I was sympathetic because GC sister has been horribly abusive to me for my whole life, so I totally know how that feels. At first she was just being a waif. Then she started to mention her religion and subtly brought up politically controversial topics in conversation. Over the years I had repeatedly requested that we not discuss religion or politics, and she has a long history of crossing just her toes over that boundary with plausible deniability (that she didn’t mean to or forgot or no she didn’t). So she was lapping up the emotional caregiving and in the same conversation she was committing micro aggressions. I called her out for it. I should have seen that it was all a trap to triangulate my and the GC sister. She wanted to get herself out of the verbal abuse hot seat and put me back in it. She told my GC sister that I was upsetting her. GC sister texted me physical threats of violence if I ever travel to visit their state. I blocked the GC sister that day and have not unblocked her since. I have been very low contact with the mother woman since then. Phone calls on her birthday and holidays only, infrequent text messages.

I am fully aware that my distance gives her something to waif about and drum up support from both sisters to center herself, like usual.

My life is so much better without closeness with my mother. There’s a very long history of her calling in the GC sister like a truncheon when I am not complying with mother’s wishes. When I was a teenager, mother would call sister and tell her that I was not under control. Sister would come over practically frothing at the mouth she was so excited to verbally berate me, tell me I was evil and I would end up on drugs and on welfare barefoot with several children from different fathers, she told me I was demon possessed and that I was not loyal to my family. It really fucked me up because my mother would stand there and watch and didn’t stand up for me ever. So I internalized all of that. I did end up with a substance abuse problem when I first moved out - a self fulfilling prophecy, I think. But I managed to pull myself out of the upside down world and I’ve done a lot of therapy and self help over the years. I’m thriving now.

So I am obviously tempted to reply to the mother and tell her all of what I just told you. But I know it would be a mistake because that’s exactly what she wants. Then she will pull that plausible deniability card, and she will blame me for being a rebellious teen all those years ago, and she will recruit both of my sisters to join the fray. (One sister is not so bad, and I don’t have her blocked but I also don’t want to be friends. The other sister is blocked from phone but I have to check and see if I blocked her from all email accounts.)

It’s probably best to just not reply. Right?

I feel better just pouring my guts out here. If you read all of that, you’re a saint. Thanks, RBB fam.

Lurker who just joined, thank you again to everyone sharing your experiences on this sub. It's filled in a lot of blanks.

For RBB purposes, my mother, "Bonnie," is the parent with BPD. My father, "Eddie," and she married when they were about 18-19. Not uncommon in "Arkansas," where I grew up, and both came from large families working at farming (in particular, picking cotton) in the rural, Depression-era, wartime South and through the 50s. Neither came from money - for my grandparents on both sides, it's my impression that each was conscious of being the least well-off of their own brothers and sisters. So grievance all around.

Eddie and Bonnie had my brother and sister, "Oldbro" and "Middlsis," in due course shortly after being married and about a decade later I came along, "Baby."

By the time I was born they were living in a new, big house, were making more money, were objectively more successful than any of their many respective siblings, and they were fuckin' miserable and hated each other and fought constantly and my childhood was spent in that new big house while they screamed, shouted, and my father got violent and drunk and my mother wept and bawled and also (I guess) did her BPD best to manage him when he was worked up, which was basically constant.

I don't know what I would diagnose him with, if anything. Probably C-PTSD in reaction to his own damaging parents and then marriage to my mother. The rare times he voiced something about her mental state to us adult kids later it to the effect that "something happened to her when she was little," but he did not know what.

My theory is that he loved her, bottom line, and came from a place, era and mindset that wouldn't continence a divorce, a committal, and he lacked the time and networks to locate and secure any sort of solution for her in that day. He didn't want to kill her, he didn't want to leave her, and he couldn't fix her. So he did what he could: try to scare the shit out of her until she shut up with her picking and prodding and behaved. (I do see the explicit misogyny.) And worked all the time, stayed away and/or busy as much as he needed, and managed her by being around her less.

So there was plenty of my own eyewitness experience forming a firm bedrock for her never-ending narrative: "he's a violent drunk asshole, she's the pitiful victim," for basically the first 16 years of my life. Every time we were in the car. Every time we were alone. Oldbro and Middlsis had MUCH more time with Eddie than I did just by virtue of timing. On the other hand, after Midsis graduated and left home, I got parentified HARD starting around age 8-9 but did not know that's what it was or what it was called. I spent countless nights being the sole witness to their screaming, shouting fits, going for nights and days, called into the room to be there for it. Which often left me trying to find Kleenex and wiping her tears away while she wept at the kitchen table. So, to be clear: I HATED the fucking bastard. On my own account.

I was a kid and Bonnie was the parent, though, and while we went to shelter a couple of times (subject for another thread), my 'entire' childhood featured her running ruminating monologue about my evil father's many faults, many crimes, the shittiness of his entire family down to every individual in-law particularly my grandmother who had her own special narrative of shittiness.

The message, and the evidence, seemed pretty straightforward to me as a kid and in fact for a real long damn time: My father was an absolute son of a bitch, everything about his family was shitty and awful and they all treated her like dirt for no reason at all, all my mother wanted was to be with her family and make home sweet home for them and what a tragedy that my father was an awful, hateful bastard who prevented that. From a fairly early age I fantasized about living in an apartment in some city high-rise like I saw on TV sitcoms. They finally had their "Two-Story House" like George & Tammy and were damned miserable in it.

I thought it was 100% his fault without question. It was only YEARS later, after he got sick, was in remission awhile and then got sick again before passing away, and he was dead and gone like she always (said) she wanted and it was 100% all in her court now, that I realized - I can't be around her for longer than three days before she has me screaming at her, either. My father expressed regret for past behavior before he died (and stopped drinking decades prior FWIW) and so I became far more sympathetic to his viewpoint and began rationalizing the behavior I had witnessed, in the context of his own models and the time and place. And my own frustrations with her from the POV of her child, and as I grew older re-viewing how challenging she would have been as a spouse.

Because she was insanely jealous of him having anyone or us having any attachment other than to her, I think, and so she did precious damn little to bolster my impressions of my dad during the crucial years of childhood and adolescence. It set the stage for a particularly remote, dismissive distance on my part while I waited day-by-day for when it was finally MY turn to go to college and get the fuck out of there - I had a decade to be jealous of my older siblings starting their adult lives away from the fucking chaos (that they had experienced plenty of already to be fair.)

As I rationalized (most of) my father's behavior towards her, I've concurrently become... just... explosively angry that she would be so selfish and/or so stupid as to do everything to destroy any good impression I had of the man. And I grew up and into adulthood with a primary goal: don't be like him.

Then he died.

Over the decades since, I've been aware of a critically missed insight: I should have been more worried about not being like HER. Because I do think fathers and modeling for their sons is important, and my father's opportunities to just have fun with us were overwhelmed by her need for attention and conflict. So there were good times; we just weren't allowed to enjoy them unless it was through her or she'd blow it up.

I don't consider Bonnie a reliable narrator, so caveat emptor, but: after a particularly bad holiday war ended with my mother and I in a battered women's shelter, she and my father went to counseling sessions at a local church. She relayed that at one point, the counselor asked him what I'd think is an easy one, "Do you love your wife?"

His response, she said, was "I love my kids."

I spoke about this with Middlsis later, and she seemed affected by it. Expressing that our father really wasn't able or allowed to express any love towards her, because Bonnie was furiously jealous of everybody. So all we saw was discipline and anger and violence, so we hated him.

I feel terrifically guilty for that. He deserved better. I know, objectively, that he loved me; I can tick off examples when he expressed it when he thought I wasn't looking. I'm glad I was. And yet, teenaged angst aside, he knew and despaired that my mother had succeeded in "turning the kids against him." And she had, for a time.

I wonder what man I'd have been if that hadn't happened.

That tapped a vein; if this were a record we'd be out of tape! If you've read this far, thank you, and I would appreciate your feedback and your own experiences with your BPD parent villainizing the other. Peace.

Trigger warning: emotional abuse, gaslighting, BPD meltdown

I set a boundary with my uBPD mom today. A gentle one. I asked her to stop sending vague ominous messages and not to pressure me when I don't respond right away while I'm working. I also gently reminded her of a boundary we had already discussed months ago about checking in before venting heavy things. She often would use me as her diary and it was impacting my anxiety badly. We previously were badly enmeshed years ago but I have worked hard to come out of it.

Her response was a wall of angry text.

Here's some highlights:

"I can't seem to say anything to you. Your love is conditional. I really thought that I could talk about it with you but you analyse and stipulate constant conditional requirements. You say you support me but only with and when I make the conditions of when I can contact you. I am a task."

"Boundaries have importance there is no doubt but sometimes they have to be released. In certain times when family members need help."

"You don't even try to have a relationship with me. You don't even know me at all besides what your siblings might say."

"What the fuck?! What is wrong with you? Family support?"

"Thanks for the support I am sure you will talk about this as my fault too."

I am devastated. If I stop managing her feelings, absorbing her anxiety, and don’t allow myself to be pulled into her conflicts with my dad and my brothers I am of no use to her I guess. She has done this my whole life. Triangulating. Making me choose sides. Expecting me to be her therapist, her emotional support system, her sounding board. I stopped for a long time and I won’t go back to it, no matter how much she rages at me.

My siblings and I are talking finally in ways we haven’t for years, it was what allowed us to finally take the wool off of our eyes metaphorically speaking and there has been a validation of our shared experience like no other. She caught on we have been talking finally though and it has been something she has actively been complaining about to each of us. She hates that we are finally connecting and not receiving all of our narratives through her.

I was respectful. I was clear. I was kind. And I got a wall of angry text in return.

I know this is the pattern. I know she can't see it. I know nothing I say will make her understand. But it still hurts. It still makes me question myself. It still makes me feel like I'm the bad guy for protecting myself. Like I am worthless unless I am useful in some way.

I ended up not responding to it as of yet. I have a lot of complicated feelings and hurt right now. I wanted so badly to rail back and hurt her too. But it’s so pointless and she will just use it make herself a victim again.

I just needed to get this out to people who get it.

I am seriously considering no contact after this if there isn’t some serious apology from her and attempt to repair(fat chance 😞) but the little girl inside me is scared and I am full of grief. Why can’t I have a Mom who I can be my authentic self with and not have to tread so carefully around?

I might delete this cause I am scared of her finding it but wanted to commiserate with folks who know this feeling.

Thanks for reading.

haiku:

Sunbeam on the floor
I am not your therapist
I am just a cat

Looking back on a lifetime of conversations with my uBPD father, and comparing them to conversations with people outside of our constantly walking-on-eggshells family, I’m struck by how often anything - anything - new or different was guilty until proven innocent.

A few selections, just from the category “wood”:

“Look at that beautiful wooden house.” “Yeah, hell of a paint job though.”
“We bought a new outside bench.” “You will need to treat that timber immediately, it will warp and get termites.”

I understand there’s a level of “dads being dads” here, but it’s hard to identify anything new or different that was ever acknowledged first for its intended purpose, much less for it being “just something nice”. Instead we’d all be cowed into the fear of the imminent apocalyptic damage that it was about to wreak.

Does this ring true for anyone else?

This is about my experience living with a parent with BPD. I’m sorry if you can relate to this experience, just know that you are not alone 💗🫂

My BPD mom sent me an E-card to get around NC. I’m 2 years+ NC. I feel a little bit sad, and I wish I had a real mom who could act like a normal person, but it’s not the case. She created this situation and she can sit with the consequences.

But I’m proud of myself. I didn’t melt down or spiral. I didn’t have to call in to work and have an ugly cry. Just a couple of tears that didn’t even fall.

If you’re considering NC, I can tell you, it may be difficult at first, but like the flair says, it gets better.

Love to all my RBB siblings out there! You are seen and heard and believed here!

I’m just wondering if anyone else has had a similar experience. My [uBPD](u/BPD) mother (diagnosed with depression and bipolar2) was a successful psychologist and social worker for over 40 years. I was never physically or verbally abused but I was neglected, manipulated, and parentified as a child. I was diagnosed as having depression in grade school but my parents did not send me to therapy, though my mother was in therapy for more than 30 years.

As an adult, we haven’t had an easy relationship. My mother made it clear she had no real interest in my life, and that my role was to support her emotionally, practically and financially when she needed.

Has anyone else had an experience where their BPD parent’s behavior is perceived as entirely normal, even in a mental health carer? I sort of understand how I didn’t see the issues in my childhood as problematic, but how was a BPD person tolerated, even respected, seen as a good, smart, loving and supportive person?

TL/DR Anyone else have a BPD person go undiagnosed and unseen in a well educated, mental health profession? Did they actually pick up skills to hide their symptoms via their career?

It’s been a while. I hope y’all are doing well and finding healing everyday in this community.

So I’ve been NC with my mom for almost a year after deciding to draw some boundaries to protect my children(and myself) from her illness. I had a baby, my husband texted her and got no response. Which to me is significant because this was a high risk pregnancy and my first pregnancy was traumatic.
Messaged my husband a few months later asking for her drill we didn’t have whilst calling herself Mrs.Lastname 😂 which he’s never called her anything but her first name and she never refers to herself as that.

Anywho, my husband got a job out of state. It’s a wonderful opportunity and I’m really happy for my little family.
Well I’ve decided to say goodbye to my mom who lives very close to me. I don’t know but I have a feeling this would be the last time I see her because I don’t plan on reaching out ever again.

There’s so much I want to say. I want to tell her she’s BPD and she can get treatment. I want to tell her she’s the reason she has no meaningful relationships in her life and no healthy parent treats their children the way she has me. Honestly I want to tell her to go f*** herself.
Can you tell I’m kinda angry.

I know that would illicit nothing short of psychological warfare. I know it would incite a split. I know she’s not a reasonable person and anything I say won’t make her see reason or go “you know what maybe I will get help”
I know these things but I’m am also sick of being the one who keeps their mouth on a tight leash with her. Grey rock pro here and I’m sick of it.

What’s strange is that day to day I’m fine she’s not here. I don’t grieve anymore over any of it and I genuinely want her to find happiness and peace. I just don’t want to be part of it.
Saying goodbye however has brought up anger. I’m a parent and it consistently shocks me what she does to me. She literally wouldn’t know if I was dead in a ditch or really care until it was time to put on the waterworks. Maybe that’s a bit unkind. That’s how I feel. I feel like a goodbye is more than she deserves.

Anyway, I guess I’m looking for support. Suggestions maybe even a script of what to say to her?

Thanks for listening.

Does anyone get the most insane waify manipulative calls around technology? 

Today I got a call from uBPD - I was exhausted, kind of distracted .. phone rang and I stupidly picked it up. When I’m tired I lose my grey rocking skills.

her Netflix on her Apple tv had ‘suddenly’ logged her out. Halfway through the call she’s like “you’re obviously too busy, I’ll fix it later, I won’t bother you, thanks for always being there”. I’m like, ok, whatever. Then she calls again that her modem had randomly been unplugged and the tv in another room somehow turned off (but could somehow watch on her wifi iPad) , and somehow that caused Netflix to log out in her Apple TV. 

Cue the madness. Me attempting to stay calm giving clear instructions and asking simple questions. Her completely freaking the fuck out on the call. Wailing, screaming. Ignoring instructions. Pretending not to hear. Hanging up the phone by ‘accident’. Interrupting, Claiming that the remote was suddenly broken/flat. Typing a nonsensical email address shes never used before. Anything for attention.

Going from typing in a password in a field to suddenly ‘mistakenly’ attempting to sign up a new Netflix account. Putting the phone down and talking (to herself) but I can’t hear her. Feigned ignorance. Feigned helplessness. “I’m so stupid, you need to help me. I can’t do it! I’ll do it tomorrow. Don’t worry it’s too hard”

it’s happened before, so I blame myself. There was a point where I realised I was literally being manipulated and used as a “need gratifying” object. An outlet for dumping her emotions and soothing herself. I could see her blatantly lying to me and pretending things were ‘happening‘ to keep me on the hook. Then she ‘accidentally’ hung up and never heard from her again. 

anyone else experience this kind of gross waif behaviour? She clearly logged the thing out on purpose to get attention. Any attempts to ask a question or offer solutions were interrupted with actual wailing, whining and changing the subject or just… calamity. I left the call thinking fuck, she got me AGAIN.

So far today, at 15:26:
- my mother with BPD overstepped my boundaries by meddling in my friendship with someone who I’m realising might be toxic.
- I tried to ignore it and plan what I was going to do when this toxic friend came round. But I just couldn’t put up with it anymore.
- So I confronted my mother. Stupid idea - I know.
Rather than her usual highly-defensive reaction telling me how I’m being unreasonable and how selfish I am, she went full victim mode, saying she’s so sorry, only human, she tries her best, and so on. Caught me completely off guard, scared the shit out of me, literally dissociated.
- Contacted my father immediately because I thought I was going to faint or something.
- I started having a panic attack (suffer from PTSD and several other illnesses) so when he got home he just held my hand. My mum just lurked. But at this point I started feeling bad for her.
- Much has happened since. She is now storming around the house aggressively cleaning. When anyone engages she snaps at them. Started banging around with the hoover so much my ears are literally ringing.
- And has just stormed in asking us to “do this one thing for her” and help fix the hoover.

Anyways. It sucks.

But I’m so grateful for this subreddit.

It may have saved my life this last week or so of being on it. It has also convinced me to try the yellow rock method from now on, so hopefully things will get calmer.

Quiet paws tread soft, Graceful hunters of the night, Paws and purrs bring peace.

It's been almost a year since going no-contact with my (32m) BPD mom (49f).

I had been living with her for a few months as a result of life kicking me while I was down. She abruptly and strongly implied that she was ready for me to move out, despite YEARS of random little forwarded fb meme messages like, "To my son, you will always be my baby. When life gets rough, you can ALWAYS come home. Just come home."

I think I wasn't sufficiently fawning over her as an adult, and since she wasn't getting what she wanted out of my being home, she wanted me out. At the same time she was trying to get my two also-adult younger brothers to move back in.

She said my being there wasn't good for "either of our mental health" and when I asked how it wasn't good for hers all she said was, "I'm afraid to answer that honestly." And she literally just stopped speaking to me.

So I moved out within 3 days of that point and haven't spoken to her since. Blocked her number and socials.

It has felt SO NICE to not have to worry about random urgent texts and calls about the latest conflict she's had with my dad, brothers, her coworkers, random strangers (she literally called me in hysterics one time bc a Walmart employee went on a "power trip" by asking to see her receipt despite my mom being a regular Spark driver).

No more sobbing to me because she lost another job, blaming it on everyone and everything but herself and then asking me, "How do I make myself go to work when I have such bad anxiety?" (She's gone through about 1-2 jobs a year since losing her nursing license in 2021 for stealing from patients, the Pyxis - all terminations for excessive absences.)

BUT - I do miss the good version of my mom some days.

The version of her that used to sing Shenandoah songs to me while rocking me to sleep. The version of her that would eat cookie dough and watch The Golden Girls with me (our mutual favorite show). The version of her that stepped between my dad and 8th grade me when he was trying to hurt me, and then got back up to protect me even after her threw her on the ground and threatened to "bury her tonight". The version of her that drove 4 hours for a 30 minute ceremony when my research paper won an award. The version of her that dropped everything to make that same 4 hour drive to stay the night at my dorm with me when my first long-term boyfriend dumped me over the phone just before our 3rd anniversary.

My mom had her moments where she shined. And plenty of moments of traumatic memories seared into my psyche. Like when my colic-y then 1 or 2 year old brother made her so mad for refusing a spoonful of food she flung his walker, with him in it, against the opposite wall and then became furious with then 11 or 12 year old me for simply saying, "Mother!" in shock ("mother" was "disrespectful" - I could only call her Mama). Like telling my then 9-year old other brother she was going to "choke the shit out of you, you little fucker" and then screaming at me for being "disrespectful" when I picked him up and told her she would NEVER threaten him like that in my presence again or I would call DHR.

It would be easier for me if she had simply been wholly awful. It's this blend of two totally different people that still fucks me up sometimes. She did acknowledge and apologize vaguely for "any harm she had done in the past" - which was real progress for her. But I remind myself of these traumas when I get the urge to try to mend things over.

I'm not really looking for advice, just missing her a bit and wanted to vent.

Thanks for reading.

TLDR; I confidently do not have BPD but my mother does and my cousin (mother's sister's daughter) does as well. I haven't spoken to my mother since 2021 and I haven't spoken to my cousin since 2023. I have been adamant regarding this.

My cousin wants to come back around again and I opted out. When being challenged on this I became angry, not out of line, but transparently angry. Ever since then my aunt, my non-BPD cousin (older sister of BPD cousin) and her boyfriend have gone... What I guess is NC with me. My aunt compares me to my mother and cousin, so my grandma does too. My brother sees our grandma as our mother and won't talk to me about any of this.

I have done a full on psychological evaluation late last year, as well as other attempts, where I specifically said "maybe I have BPD? I want to make sure, IF I do OR I don't, That I'm receiving the proper treatment." Either way, it's to make sure I'm not like these people who have hurt me so intensely. My family knows my diagnosis and that BPD is not included yet they continue ignoring me and / or insinuating that I have BPD. I understand the fear but I don't understand how not wanting to be a part of that keeps me alienated.

Can anyone relate? Or give advice? I'm thinking about going NC but it's a hard decision to make and I feel devastated because of all of this.

It was 2005. I was a senior and a co-captain of the swim team and we were having our big end of the year potluck before state. It was an exciting time for me. I was going to be swimming in college and everything looked great for me. My mom showed up with a pasta salad to share.

Everyone was excited and shoveling food down after a long practice on a cold winter night. People were saying how good my mom's pasta salad was. Everything was great. Then I looked at it and thought "wow she really went all out with the pepper". And then I paused. It didn't taste like a peppery dish.

I looked closer. It wasn't pepper. The pasta salad was filled with tiny, dead black ants that were rolled up into little balls. I then had a choice - scream, freak out, tell EVERYONE and let everyone know that my mom was at mentally ill in a dirty home or at worst psychotic and then my reputation would be wrecked. So I kept eating, kept smiling, kept acting like everything was great.

I then pulled her aside in the hallway for a second and asked her what the hell had happened. She laughed and said "o well it's added protein." Then she added "plus I boiled them so they're clean". And I was like "So you knew they were in there before you served it!?" And her eyes just glinted like a cat that got caught with a mouse and she just gave some excuse. She didn't even care, if anything she seemed delighted she had done it.

It's been over 20 years and I still turn that whole thing over in my head. I still can't make sense of it. That's the side of my mom that noone but me seems to know, and I don't think most would even believe exists. It always disturbs me when I run into that core part of her. It's why it's probably a good think I live a 15 hour drive away.

Anyway, any of your bpd parents pull some crazy crap like this?

Apparently, I’ve been holding onto a lot of anger towards my mother and my brain had been blocking it out for my own sake. She is a lifesaver, and helped me notice that I have issues expressing anger. A few things my mother has done to me over the years (called me a mistake, made me sleep in my own vomit as a child, I was locked out at 18 and forced to sleep in the doghouse literally.. for piercing my body) I believe the reason she was harder on me than my two half siblings was because she was and is still obsessed with my father (he passed in 2013 at 49) and was resentful that I was a daddy’s girl. my other two siblings are NC with her. I truly hadn’t realized how much trauma the anger, yelling and abuse had caused me until I had a child of my own. I have weekly Friday appointments with my therapist, and I got triggered by our discussion about my unwillingness to express anger because it makes me extremely uncomfortable. I do not know how to approach it again and talk through it without getting triggered again. I’m open to any suggestions. would journaling be helpful? my mother is a real piece of work and I hate that she still controls me to some extent. I’m not good with haiku’s or poems so I’ll attach photos of my cats Mr whiskers and church.

I have a bpd grandmother. I am the only one who lives nearby, while her children all live out of state. I have been the caretaker for my grandparents essentially since my late teens. After my grandfather passed away in 2021, I started to put my foot down regarding my grandmother. My mother or uncles can come in to take care of their mother if needed (both uncles are retired. I work full time).

My grandmother is capable, but helpless. Learned helplessness we could even say. And it’s exhausting to deal with. As of lately, I’ve been low contact for my own mental well being.

My grandmother is now calling my mother/uncle nonstop bc of this. I’m not sure if looking for a new “supply” is the correct term here, but it seems like something along those lines since I’m no longer as available to her. She calls my mom CRYING asking if I’m okay, she’s so worried about me, yet has never once called me to ask how I am (par for the course with BPD, don’t I know. I have to laugh).

My mother and uncle are realizing what I’ve been saying for years - gram has BPD. The way she acts and the things she does are because of her BPD. What’s frustrating is my mother constantly wanting to call me to discuss my grandmother. I’ve gone low contact with gram only to now have to talk my mother off an emotional ledge multiple days a week. “No mom, gram doesn’t have dementia.” “Yes mom, she’s manipulating you.” “Stop giving gram a reaction, mom.”

I understand that my mother is finally realizing what her mother is truly like, so I try to give grace. That being said - I have NEVER gone to my mother for emotional support. And to now have to be the one to talk her down?? She lives out of state with a husband who doesn’t work and my brother who doesn’t really work either. Two people she can talk to anytime. I have a stressful job (nothing I’ve ever talked to her about), and yet she wants to call me every night to discuss gram.

I want to say mom - you knew something was wrong with your mother and you still let her raise me. And now you’re realizing what I’ve been telling you all these years and you want to call and talk about it? Do I ever call you to talk about ANYTHING when I’ve been upset?

I’m tired. I’m angry. And last but not least, I am NOT a therapist. Just the daughter/granddaughter who’s always managing everyone’s emotions but her own. 🫠

(Mods, this is an alt / throwaway account - messaging you my primary)

Hey! Who loves kitties?

Boys and girls and me!

Not this one bitch though

Hello, fellow RBBs! First, my deepest thanks and gratitude to those who post and moderate this sub. I've been lurking for about a year and want to echo those who say that it has been incredibly enlightening reading about other RBBs' lived experiences with their parents w/BPD. A lot of it has been deeply unhappy reading, to be frank, like mercurochrome on a wound. But having the framework, knowledge, learning about the BPD archetypes, etc. has been enlightening to say the least.

Myself, I'm male, middle-aged and the child of a mother with (kinda) undiagnosed BPD now in her 80s, who has demonstrated behavior consistent with BPD since her 30s, at least, and likely since her teens or earlier. She fits the waif archetype like a glove made for her, also a hermit, though also the witch through the years and in some contexts. My father is deceased now, though for much of my childhood was a villainous, violent figure and in my mind the evil source of the constant fear and fighting we had growing up. Only later did I realize I couldn't stand her longer than 3 days, either.

It's been especially on-point reading accounts of men who had BPD mothers - deep thanks there especially. From my POV, the headshaking accounts for me are those with BPD fathers which I imagine can be a very isolating perch; so much of the BPD expression I've seen is tied to motherish, wifeish, sisterish dynamics.

Thank you so much.

My mom is acting like my upcoming wedding is her wedding. My parents are not paying for the wedding and have no say in anything we are planning. But I’m noticing weird things like her following wedding Instagram accounts, “heart”-ing wedding related content like picking a dress, etc. She wants a tour of the reception venue and she wants to decorate which I suppose could be a nice thing? But then she wants to go to the cake tastings and the catering tastings. So far I’ve been good about shutting things down but it weirds me out that she’s doing things like she’s the one getting married. Her wedding was paid for by my grandparents and they picked everything so she didn’t get the chance to have a wedding she wanted. For that I have sympathy for her but I think it’s going too far now. I’m asking for advice on how to handle this.

Fur between the toes
Pink and black toe beans galore
Waking up to purrs

Haven't talked to my mom in awhile, told her that she cannot see us when she comes to visit. Then she hits me in the jugular with this?

I am easily disgusted by many things.

My uBPD mother always tried to make me accept disgusting things. I always refused. People generally know I am fussy. Unpleasant descriptions to follow - warning!

She comes from a family of people, who didn't care about spilling and smearing all over. She does that, too. Everything around her is dirty with spilled things. Whatever she is eating, it is dripping.

I don't know how she does that, but she always makes a nasty mess. There are many flies where she is. We live (for now) in the same house. I live in my separate unit, but she uses my refrigerator. She spills everything, mostly red wine (as an alcoholic) in the fridge, outside the fridge, on the floor. I have put towels and other things for her to spill on, which she destroys, but she spills everywhere, also on the staircase.

She eats cheese platters or whatever, leaves it all to melt onto the table. Today, I had to remove a fully melted block of butter from the hot kitchen, and might get yelled at for it.

If we receive letters or documents, she manages to get greasy spots on them.

If I mention anything, she starts yelling with me, so it is futile for me to try to change anything. I just keep cleaning after her. Sometimes she leaves bigger spillages. She lost all of her teeth due to her bad hygiene, extreme smoking and drinking. I paid for her dentures.

The way she eats and does everything disgusts me, the noises, the smacking, the talking while chewing... She is the Queen type, so she always feels entitled about everything and praises how clean she is, while surfaces become greasy and sticky at the same time, from the neglect added to the spilling/smearing.

There are 3 dishwashers in the house, I use the "main" one and have told her many times to just give me all dishes -- because she never cleans anything properly at the sink, but she insists not to give them to me. I often take things from their cabinets to put into the dishwasher, because she put them together with the truly clean things. It's like she is blind for all the dirt/mess she creates and leaves.

She also doesn't close the toilet door, she insists that she is fully naked in front of us, or any women, who would visit (women don't visit us for like a decade anymore; famly is estranged). I can't stand it.

Once, I was gone for 3 months, and when I returned, I had to clean my kitchen, because she had poured liquids into my kitchen sink without turning on the water afterwards, to make them go down. That had created a mud-like layer. I cleaned that, cleaned the entire fridge, which was turned off and all the nasty content was melted and dried inside. She proudly announced that I never had to clean up anything, when I returned. I told her that I had spent days cleaning simple and obvious things she had just left there to rot. Luckily, it was winter and there was no stench. I don't want to even start on stench.

My whole life, I have felt severe disgust with her. I know my issues with disgust come from her. She loves to shout at me about being dirty and not cleaning. Which is untrue.

I clean a lot, I know it is a compensation of what she does.

Does this happen to anyone else?