Of all the BPD traits to still be struggling with, impulsiveness is causing me the most trouble.
To a page with 21,000 followers, I shared the following:
And I left it there, simmering. No disclaimer.
Would people think it was true?
Would they be disgusted and block me?
Of course not. They only know the CURATED me—the parts that are shiny, that I allow them to see.
I’d never show my many major flaws and faults.
Except, I have.
I’ve admitted my racism. (I’m working on that every day.)
I’ve admitted my homophobia. (Working on that as well.)
I’ve admitted I was pro-life, before I knew better.
I’ve done this as there is no way to erase decades of wrong beliefs, except to be brutally honest and face the truth of every wrong idea that we grew up believing.
The ones that call me a
libtard feminazi don’t believe that I used to vote straight Republican ticket, but that doesn’t make it untrue. It’s a fact I disclose, as an independent who strays more left of center than right.
Here, on these pages, I admit I have a strongly stigmatized and maligned mental illness that cannot be cured. I will always have BPD. It ravaged my younger life, and I can’t undo any of those destructive outbursts.
But I know, as surely as I know my own scars, that I never called my child worthless. I never told him no one loved him. I didn’t stalk him. And I tried to be the best mother I could be.
In these pages, I will document the abuse I remember. Once, I spanked with a nylon kitchen spoon. I don’t deny that. Once, moving toward him, toward his bedroom, I caused him to fall and put a hole in the drywall. I didn’t think I “pushed” him but I did cause the fall. That’s not disputable.
I’m sure I did things that would be considered mental or emotional abuse. I did get annoyed when he would not try new things. I did get frustrated when he’d refuse to step onto an escalator. I did trick him into an elevator under false pretenses that we were not going to the top floor for the view. (It doesn’t matter that he was OK at the top. It matters that I forced him when he was afraid.) I made lots of mistakes.
His siblings will review the book before it is finalized. So will other people who were there for those same years, very close to our family. I want the truth, not just my addled perspective. So I’ll leave Stuart’s comments as written, and invite Coraline and Rebecca to share.
I’m not afraid of the truth. But I’m unsure how to proceed with the false allegations. That’s his reality. Stuart repeats things said by Tyrone. Stuart repeats things said by Donna. Things that were false when they said them, and false now. But his reality is the only one that matters to him, and I’m the monster.
I love you. You do know I never called you worthless. You do know I never said no one loved you. Somewhere, deep down, you know the lies from the truth. You can’t admit it in 2021 just like you couldn’t admit it in 2013. But the truth will always be the truth, in 2030 or 2040 or 2050. I will love you until the day I die.