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  • WHEN YOUR MOTHER HAS BPD: A GUIDE FOR ADULT CHILDREN
  • New Yorkers and Trauma
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Experience of BPD sufferers and their families*

A Day in the Life of a BPD Sufferer*
 
 
Mornings are the worse part of the day. I always wake up anxious. I always wake up alone. What if no one cares about me? Would anyone even know if I got sick or died? How long would I lie on the floor dead or disabled before I am found? What if I am never found?
 
Why do I deserve to be treated this way? I gave what I could. As a daughter, a sister, a mother and a wife. Where are they now? They are all happy and enjoying their lives and forgetting about me. Those bastards!!! They don’t even think about me. They don’t care about me. So I won’t care about them. They are ungrateful. I would have been better off if I never let them in my life. I hate them.
 
Well I am not going to take this lying down. It is time for me to take care of me!! And I will do it better than my worthless so-called family. To hell with them!!! I will find people that like me, that respect me and value me.
 
How will I get their attention? How can I catch people’s eyes? Perhaps I will get a tattoo today. One that provokes others to talk to me. One that angers those who don’t like me. One that is highly visible and outrageous. Maybe I need some new clothes? Clothes that reveal. Clothes that will shock. Maybe all black. Maybe fuchsia. Maybe no underwear. Maybe I will cut my hair short. Maybe cut it all off.
 
Being seen is not enough. I need to be heard. Everyone needs to hear me. They need to hear my anger and my pain. They need to feel my anger and pain so that they will see how horrible they are to leave me. To abandon me. Everyone will know how horrible my family is to treat me this way. They will know how I suffer and pity me. They will save me from the vacuous vortex of being alone. And those that put me here: my so-called loved ones, will know and they will suffer.
 
What am I doing out here? My family has disappointed me. My family has failed me. They have abandoned me to their own selfish pursuits and I am out here trying to get the attention of strangers. How pathetic is that? I know how to attract men. It’s easy. Just smile, flirt and let them touch me. But they leave when they are done. They don’t stay. They don’t care. They just want what they want. Just like my family. At first I believe them – that they really like me, want me, need me. But when they are done getting what they want, they always leave.
 
Women are no different. I tell them they are pretty. I tell them they are thin. I tell them they are smart. I listen to their stories. And then they leave too. They tell me that they love me. They tell me that they care. I start to believe them. I start to trust them. I start to rely on them. But then they disappear when their man or their children calls and once again I am left alone. They don’t answer their phones or their emails when I need them to. They put themselves first. Always.
 
This is so painful. I have tools for the pain. I have my wine. I have my pills. And I have my blade. First the wine. Maybe things will feel better after I take the edge off.
 
I wonder what they would do if they found out I was hurt, or dead, after the fact. Would they even notice? Would they care? Let’s find out. I will call my son. Oh surprise he’s not picking up his phone. He’s probably screening me out.
 
“Jason? Jason. Jason this is your mother. Pick up if you are in there. Is there anyone in there? Jason I really need to speak to you.”
 
Let’s see if he calls back.
 
It’s been 15 minutes and he hasn’t called back. Let me call one more time.
 
“Jason this is your mother. Remember me? I need to speak to you. Don’t you know you have a mother?”
 
He’s not going to call back. I have ungrateful children. I need to forget that I had them. Time for the heavy duty tools. Time for the pills.
 
This is what my family has done to me. They don’t care. I am all alone. Nobody cares. You want to hurt me I will hurt myself. Why does cutting hurt and feel good at the same time?
 
I am falling asleep now. I am not sure if I will wake up. I am not sure I care.
​A Day in the Life of Living with a BPD Sufferer (BPDS)*
 
 
Mornings are the worse part of the day. I always wake up anxious. I am never sure how she will be. Sometimes she is ok but usually she is irritable. Best to get up before her or after she is gone. Best to avoid interaction in the morning and maybe she will be better later. I can’t wait to get out of here.
 
Why do I deserve to be treated this way? I try to be loving. I try to avoid topics that upset her. I try not to ask too much. When I give her what she wants it is never enough. She keeps wanting more and more until I don’t know what to do and then she gets mad at me. She tells me that I am a bad person, a failure. She says that she wishes I were never born. She makes me feel like a terrible person. And I am doing the best that I can!!!
 
Uh-oh she is in a mood. I hear her walking heavily on the floor and banging doors.
 
BPDS: “I need you to help me with something this morning.”
Jason:  “OK what can I do?”
BPDS: “Let me take my shower and get ready for work and then I will let you help me.”
Jason:  “Let me help you now. I have to get to work.”
BPDS: “Can’t you do one thing for me?”
Jason:  “I am willing to do whatever you ask but I need to do it now so that I am not late for work.”
BPDS: “Forget it. I knew I shouldn’t have asked you for any kind of help.”
 
Now my day is ruined. How do I get this out of my head? I go over it again and again: I offered my help, I have a job, why am I a bad person? I know that I am not a bad person but I feel horrible.
 
OK. Let me think about my life. I am going to work and then I will go out until she is asleep. I will come home when she is asleep. Maybe by tomorrow she will back off and give me a break. Why do I stay here? I feel too guilty to leave.
 
The trick is to put the key in the lock without making noise. Then you have to ease the door open and hope that it doesn’t squeak. I have found that lifting the door slightly helps with this. The slightest sound and…
 
BPDS: Jason. Is that you? Jason. Jason. Say something or I will call the police.
Jason:  It’s me.
BPDS: Why were you out so late?
Jason:  It’s not even midnight.
BPDS. I get so scared when you are not here.
Jason:  I am here now.
BPDS: Yeah now that it is convenient. You do what you want to do and I am an afterthought.
Jason:  I have to go to sleep we can talk in the morning.
BPDS: I don’t need to talk to you. I wish I didn’t know you.
 
Oh God, here I am again. I have to get up early and get out of here before she gets up and starts spitting venom at me again. Why am I here?

*These accounts are composited from different accounts.

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