WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGERS: Domestic Violence and child abuse
Something, I forgot to point out. Not every person, who suffers from Borderline are similar. No two cases are the same. I am much older than I was, when I could remember being angry. I fought with my siblings, my mother, and anyone in my early teen years. I could remember my mom asking me to clean my room. And with my hand, I cleaned off the dresser. Everything on it, broke. The last time I broke something of that scale was back in 2013. A ton of things have slipped my mind over the years. I just had 75% of my thyroid removed. I was angry. I wanted to be whole and normal. It was also when I self-published my first novel. I received a negative review. That sent me over the edge. The kids were not around. I took my hand and swept my entire mantel. I knocked every angel and fairy statue I had, to the ground. Everything shattered and I screamed. I ripped off the thing that covered my neck, which I was supposed to leave over my throat for x amount of days. I lost my shit.
I saw red and was angry. I was losing more body parts and having diagnosis after diagnosis. I was dealing with an asshole father, who had the habit of re-gifting old shit to my kids, while he bought new things for his new family. I raged. I raged like a mofo. It took me twenty-four hours to calm down. I haven’t raged like that since. My husband had to work ot that day and he was able to calm me down. It took me a while to snap out of it. I was so angry. I would have outbursts like that throughout my childhood, teen, and adult years.
I have hit people in the past. They say one wrong thing to me and I’d snap. My older sister, who probably also has Borderline, said something wrong to me. She called me names and I gave her a light slap. Well… needless to say, the neighbors never talked to me again. She through a punch at me and I through a punch at her. She slipped on a rock and fell down. I was on top of her, trying to break her nose. It would have been a funny sight to see, but a sad one, too. We did this quite often. My husband had a hard time, pulling me off her. She left with a few bruises and missing hair. I don’t remember pulling her hair. But, my husband did pull me off her and took me in the house. I forgot all about that. She made me mad. She knew how to push my buttons. She claimed that my husband wanted her over me. She is a delusional narcissistic witch at times. She’s the type of person, who doesn’t have any remorse for her actions. The world revolves around her. This is the sister that you wouldn’t claim to be related to you. She wears stuff that’s too small or short for her weight. It’s embarrassing and you want to hide. My husband laughed. He kept shaking his head and twisted his face. “Jen, give me more credit than that. I wouldn’t touch your sister with a ten-foot pole.” Six months later, she apologized. She made up the entire story just to get under my skin. She’s a diva in her mind. She’s the type of person, who thinks all the men want her. I love her but I can’t trust her or be around her for long. We’ve had knock-down, drag-out fights over the years. Starting when I was really little. My sister would scare me as a three-year old. She is seven years older than me. I would also say that she has a mind of a sixteen-year old. Doesn’t have a job, lost custody of her kids, and lives with an abusive alcoholic. The same man, who tried to kill her in 2009. When they say to get rid of those toxic relationships, they mean it. I love her but I can’t stand some of the things she does. And you thought I was crazy? Ha! She is way worse than me. But, she doesn’t feel there’s anything wrong with her. It’s everybody else.
Do I think I’m getting better? Yep! I used to have explosive anger once a week. Now it’s down to once a year or less. It took me many years to get to this point. When I first started dating my husband, I was a mess. I probably had Borderline for a long time, before I was diagnosed. I was always fighting with someone. I remember spitting in faces, fighting all the time, and acting out. I had a chip on my shoulder in my teen years. I just wanted to hit something hard and knock it out. I was called into the principal’s office, quite often. Suspended and people did fear me. One of my teachers gave me a 98% for the rest of the school year, if I took study hall. I was a threat. Back then, you didn’t have teachers that gave a damn. Not until the school shootings started happening. I was going through so many changes. I hung out with the wrong crowd and wound up in deep trouble. It is a miracle that I’m still here today. I popped open my mouth. I scared a girl so bad that she hid under her bed. They did call the cops on me. I left before the cops arrived. This was back in 96. I did so many stupid things and I feel bad for those things today.
They say people with Borderline, have no remorse. I have tons. I live with remorse for my actions every day. Some things, I don’t remember. I stayed either drunk or high all the time. There are big chunks of memory still missing from 96-00. I was really bad. Relationship to relationship. Manipulation to manipulation. I did it all. I was angry. I would wait for my dad to show up for his visitations and he never showed. He was supposed to take me to Disney World and Sea World. He didn’t take me and took my little sister and his new wife. The woman he slept with, while he was married to my mother. The woman that he held a picture of, and said this would be my new mom. The man, who held a loaded shotgun to my mom’s head. This was the same man, who beat my sister black and blue for calling his girlfriend a slut. The same man, who picked me up by the throat and threw me into the fridge at 8 years old. All because, I stood up for my mom. He called my mom a slut and I lost it. My mom, never slept around. She worked two jobs to his one. She took care of five children, while he was gone with his girlfriend. The woman, who high-beamed our home all hours of the night. I still struggle with bright lights today. This was the same monster, who threatened to kill all five of us and blow my mom’s head off. He had a noose tied from the second floor. My mom had enough sense to hide the older kids at friends’ house. She took my older brother and me, and we hid out at an abuse shelter in 1990. He is where my anger lies. He is the person, I have a problem with. But, I have to forgive him. It’s hard and a part of me doesn’t want to let that go. I spent majority of my childhood and teenage life, taking care of my mother. Why she loved a man like that, I’ll never know. I wish I said that I made all this shit up. I have four siblings that will back me up.
We were a middle class family, who hid their secrets well. If you notice anything odd from your friends, please step in. We can prevent possible tragedies from happening. Watch for the warning signs. It’s better to be safe than sorry. We didn’t have this in the 80’s. Lots of families hid their secrets back then.
That is why, I’m in therapy. To keep the anger away and to let all of this trauma go. My best friend Toni… I remember her parents promising to protect me against my dad. Her dad, said to me that he would protect me at all costs. Her mother made me laugh. I called them my second parents. I remember feeling so scared and her dad kept his promise. They’re gone now, but they were awesome parents. I remember feeling so jealous of Toni. She had a mom and a dad. I remember praying to be like them. I remember wishing for a family like hers. They made me laugh and made me feel safe. Between them and my grandmother, I’m still here. They taught me what unconditional love was. And I found that in my husband.
My husband has remained patient. He has loved me through all my storms. On our second date, I remember telling him, “I’m batshit crazy. I have this and that wrong with me. This is your chance not to leave, but RUN!” He stayed through it all. He took a huge risk with me. In the beginning, I was hell on wheels. As long as he keeps certain family members away from me, I’m good! We lost a pregnancy together and it tore him up, too. In the beginning, I checked all emails and messages. Now, I don’t. He remarked today, “You’re getting better. You’re not the same person from over twelve years ago.” That’s for sure!
As for me being a mom. I’m patient with my kids. I don’t spank. I calmly tell each one of them, why they shouldn’t hit each other. Siblings do fight. My daughter is just like me. She is a spitfire of me. All my kids have good grades. My oldest is 10, my second is 8, my third is 7, and the only girl is 4. I don’t yell. I hate yelling. My mother yelled at me all the time and I can’t handle yelling. The stuff they do, I have to laugh at times. They remind me so much of my former self. My oldest son got a 100 in Science. Huh? I sucked in Science. My middle scored a 100 in Language Arts. Huh? I sucked in that, too. I had F’s in the 3rd and 5th grades. My kids are on the damn honor roll. I don’t push them to get those grades. We have schedules and rules, I never had. We talk about things and come to conclusions for both parties. I’m so proud of them. They have a bed time at 9:00, every night. They don’t fight me to go to bed. They aren’t perfect. To get them to clean their rooms, is like pulling teeth. We give each other hugs and kisses. We tell each other, “I love you and goodnight.” I never had that as a child. Come to think of it, I don’t think my dad ever said he loved me every night before the terror began.
When he was home, my dad slept on the lounge chair or on the couch all day. I asked him to read a book and he hated reading books to me. The house had to be spotless and dinner had to be on the table every night. He would snap over little things. Now that I think about it, he wasn’t a great dad. He still sucks as a dad today. I haven’t seen my dad, since August of 2012. The birth of my daughter. Before, I used to miss him. Now, I don’t miss him at all. I put him on a pedestal, he clearly never deserved. Wow! I can’t believe I said that! I’m grateful for the man, who has stepped up. Now, he deserves that pedestal, and not my dad. Bless him, for loving a mess like me. He could have run, but he chose to stay. That is what unconditional love is.
I’ll still continue my therapy. It is working. It will take time, but it is working. I have learned to apologize for my mistakes. I do take credit for those, I have wronged. It isn’t as bad as I thought it was. I’m still here and I’m happy for a change. All I can say, is that I’m a work in progress.