This is pretty much me. Emphasis on the Bitch.
This post is boring and miserable to start then better at the end. Feel free to skip the miserable shit first. x
Sounds like a recipe for disaster, right? Well, it can be for some, but for the thousands of women who live with a personality disorder and manage to cope, I am in complete awe of you.
Since my daughter’s birth I have been terrified of having a negative impact on her life. Well, if certain mental health issues are learnt behaviours, then surely my being fucked up as I am will have an adverse effect on her as she grows. This is my reasoning. The fact that deep down I am still positive that if I were to remove the negative influence (me) from her life, then she would grow in a happier environment.
Then I worry about how my Husband would react to it all, how he would cope with her, with the house, with the bills. I don’t think I have ever really thought about how he’d cope without me. Could this be because I feel I rely so heavily upon him and others, probably. They will cope the same way they did before hand. My best mate’s fuel bill would probably drop not having to worry about the school run for me, The Husband’s stress levels would drop and Kiddo wouldn’t have a mother who’s brain doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up and be normal.
How do I explain to her that Mam’s brain doesn’t know what a ‘normal’ reaction is? She is a child, she is pushing all the buttons she has available, it’s what they do. How do I approach the touchy subject that her Mam isn’t like the other Mam’s which is why I struggle to get out and do things with the school? (That and the Cliques the Mum’s have at the gates are hard. I have a few people who will talk to me, why the still talk to me I don’t know. BUT I am grateful they still do.)
If BPD is a learned condition, then surely the cycle won’t be broken because Kiddo’s formative years have been filled with whiplash inducing mood swings and tempter tantrums, that’s just from me! I mean how many 8 year old’s do you know who say “You’ve just run out of Happy.” Then proceed to do something funny so you laugh. It’s sad that my daughter is having to look out for me. We have established that she likes happy Mami. Sad Mami makes her sad. Angry Mami doesn’t surface often, it’s normally a growl or I cry. I am terrified I am going to screw her up.
If BPD is genetic, then I have lined her up for PCOS and BPD, fucking brilliant 13th birthday present that! That’s if she hasn’t picked up the compulsive picking, or the self harm, the compulsive spending or the damn crap that goes with it all. Seriously, how am I not a bad influence?
I am trying not to drive myself too mad with the prospect of her getting older and the fact that as she ages, she will soon be introduced to the world of technology. That scares me too. I however, have deliberately moved my living room around so I am no longer by a power socket and have to put my gadgets on charge across the room. This is so I can stay away from particularly emotionally provoking material. I have stopped watching the news (with reports of celebrity paedophile cases going on, I can’t watch it), I have started watching films or binge watching box sets.
I have, however, been making progress in the “going outside alone” thing.
I walked around a huge Tesco’s store with Kiddo and borrowed Kidlet. That went well.
I walked to the Dotors and the chemist by myself, completely alone.
I walked to work. Just under 2 miles at 5am in the morning. I saw 2 rabbits and a squirrel (I was so happy).
I am getting there slowly. Very very very slowly but I am getting there. I think.