The BPD Experience

borderline-personality-disorder4

Today, we’ll discus a little more of my childhood.

Back when I was 8 years old things had gotten really hairy for me.

My Borderline personality disorder mother was on a roll. So much so I got taken away from her. Yep, ended up in child protective services.

It was a really scary time for me. I was separated from all I knew, but didn’t understand why!

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My mother was on a bender, and had a hard time finding a babysitter for my brother and I, so she could paint the town.

This wasn’t uncommon as you know. It use to be my grandparents who would watch us at night when she would work. This was different, as it was for social reasons. My grandma was still dealing with the loss of my grandpa, so she was out of the question.

Her other friends were on the same schedule she was on, and going out so they were out of the question too!

What is a woman to do? Guess what she did?

She took us with her! Yep, carted me and my older brother with her to bars.

No we didn’t come in, we stayed in the car.

The-kids-stuck-in-a-car-during-the-storm

One night she dragged us out with her. Our blankets and pillows in tow. She parked at a bar called “The Rendezvous,” said good night to us and off she went into the bar.

A few hours in a brawl broke out. My brother and I were scared! We locked the doors, and cowered. Two guys were fist fighting right outside our car! Nothing we could do. Our mom was still inside, but we knew we were allowed inside. So we huddled together until it was over.

After awhile our mother came out, all footloose and fancy free, and inebriated. Unaware what we had just seen. We told her, and she apologized, saying she wouldn’t bring us back here again! She was right, she didn’t. Instead she took us to other bars.

So, you get a little taste as to why I got taken away. By 8 years old, I had already seen what most adults live in a lifetime! It wasn’t fair for my mom to continue putting us through crazy shit!

Living with a person who has borderline personality disorder is difficult, but as a child nearly impossible!

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So, I was in a “home,” actually more of a state center for kids who had been taken away from their parents or guardians. It wasn’t fun, I tell you! Not fun at all! We slept in cubical style bedrooms. Each section had a bed and a night stand. The place smelled musty, and there were adults always walking around like security guards.

I was allowed some personal belongings, but they were often stolen by other kids. So, I opted out of that amenity. The other kids weren’t very nice either. There often were fights that broke out. I was a bit of a recluse. I kept to myself mostly. I found it easier to not mix with the others as I felt I couldn’t trust anyone at that time. Besides, the kids were stealing my stuff. Why would I trust them!

I got supervised visitation with my parents. My dad came once only. My mom, every visit she could.

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I was in there about 2-months. Finally, a judge allowed me to leave. But under the condition that I move in with my dad. I was only allowed visitation with my mom.

Well, I moved in with my dad. That only lasted until the courts said I could go back to my mom. You see, I don’t have a good relationship with my dad. But my mom talked him into taking me temporarily so I could get out of the “home.”

I lived with my dad for 3-months. Mind you, it was almost more uncomfortable than being in the “home.” Understand, my dad sees me as “damaged goods,” why that is, is another story.

damaged goods

How he treated me was as if you were holding a shitty diaper far away from you so you don’t smell the stink. He avoided me. Best analogy I can give!

So you can imagine how happy I was to move back in with my mother and brother!

Things weren’t quite the same with me and mom. She had great guilt over my ordeal. She never took us to a bar again. But, I was still in charge of paying her bills, and doing the grocery shopping.

Some people have asked me before, “why didn’t she leave you at home.” My answer, “your guess is as good as mine!”

Living with a borderline personality disorder for a mother really had its bad days. I have many more of them to share.

If you care to comment or share your story, please do so in the comments. You may also DM me via twitter.

bipolarme

bipolarme

Living with type 1 bipolar disorder, PTSD (due to childhood trauma), Rapid Cycling, and Seasonal Affective Disorder. Writing about my life experiences.

0 thoughts on “The BPD Experience

  • August 23, 2014 at 11:28 pm
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    That sounds like a really crappy experience. Is it weird that sometimes I wouldn’t take back my own crappy experiences because they made me who I am? I’m not sure if you feel the same way. Or, if you wish that none of it had ever happened to you at all.

    My mother was another kind of crazy. Kidnapped my sister and ran all the way across Canada only to drop her on our doorstep while I was waiting for the school bus two years later. Our relationship as siblings was never really the same after that. I find she still keeps a distance from me. I have no idea what her life is like other than our visits. I’ve never met a single boyfriend of hers. Not one.

    I remember my father coming home drunk at night. He was never terrible to us, but I was still scared when he would try and say he loved me, in the middle of the night. I remember that I pretended to be asleep after the first time because I didn’t want to see him like that anymore.

    I feel kind of lucky compared to a lot of people. I know that I can be really pessimistic at times, but part of that is my low expectations. I figure anyway.

    Reply

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