I spent over 10 hours this weekend running this manuscript through as fine an edit as I can tolerate doing:


The final edit awaits my professional-editing daughter.  I remain frustrated at not having the technical capacity to repair and resize the photographs that need to be included in this book so that it could be DONE with ASAP – meaning formatted and uploaded for Amazon.com Kindle publication – NOW!  My son in Seattle plans to assist with artwork in between his classes and homework before his U quarter is over – so I will find patience – and move on in the work I CAN do on other manuscripts.


In important ways I have spent my entire adult lifetime running from ‘this story’.  I tell myself, “Nobody in their right mind would try to do what you are doing.”  What is it I think I can gain, or can contribute to, the study of child abuse and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) by examining the case study my abusive mother left in her half a million or more words that came to me when she died?  It troubles me that I don’t know the answer to my questions.

I have apples in my kitchen.  It is a rare cool damp overcast day here in the high Arizona desert.  I am thinking of baking myself an apple pie.  The only way I will know what such a pie tastes like is to go through the process of baking it.  Perhaps this writing work I am doing is just that simple.  Making and eating a pie.  Writing and reading a book.

Withholding my commentary of Mildred as I completed this manuscript has left me feeling robbed.  I chose to leave out my own truth out of this book about what it was like for me being this woman’s daughter.  How many Mildreds were there?  Who was this woman who so blithely rattled on and on to her mother and to herself in her journals about the months of her life this book covers?

All of my childhood I was told in every way possible that ‘nice Mother’ could not be MY mother because I was such a horrible child.  If I had not been such a horrible child I could have had the ‘nice Mother’ my siblings had.  What is this struggle I am putting myself through to give VOICE to what lay buried and hidden in a silence deeper than any Alaskan mountain wilderness can ever hold?


Two words:  ‘apex’ and ‘nadir’


1a : the uppermost point : vertex <the apex of a mountain>

b : the narrowed or pointed end : tip <the apex of the tongue>

2: the highest or culminating point
1: the point of the celestial sphere that is directly opposite the zenith and vertically downward from the observer
2: the lowest point


These two words.  They are ‘all’ Mildred’s ‘visible’ Alaskan homesteading story was about and her ‘invisible’ story of abuse of me.

In Mildred’s BPD mental split good-bad world her ‘apex’ was at the top of a REAL Alaskan mountain – the highest point in her BPD-matrix mind.  Her ‘nadir’ was hell – INSIDE of me – the lowest point in her BPD-matrix mind.

She writes about her high point.  She DOES NOT write about her low point.

Her entire BPD-matrix mind worked to make VISIBLE what was her HIGH

as it vanquished into INVISIBILITY what (who) was her LOW.


SILENCE.  The invisibility of SOUND.

The invisibility of WORDS to tell my own story – to make visible my story, my story of being buried and hidden and held captive in obscurity, in invisibility – right in the middle of Mildred’s VISIBLE words of her own writings – that is my struggle.

(Along with the struggle of simply being able to show readers Mildred’s mental illness in her writings – period.  Mildred was entirely mentally ill.  There was no part of her – and therefore no part of her life – that was not under the influence of BPD.)

It was the PSYCHOSIS of Mildred’s mental illness that allowed her to completely separate her ‘upper’ visible all-good world from her ‘lower’ invisible all-bad world.

I cannot comprehend a person being able to so absolutely divide and keep divided these two extremes the way Mildred did.

When I consider her Alaskan homesteading obsession – as I see how she literalized this obsession with her mountain spot being HEAVEN on earth –

I also know that her other obsession that forced her to believe I was an incarnation of the devil’s child on earth was equally literalized in her every thought, feeling, action and inaction toward me.


As much as Mildred loved her homestead mountain — was as much as she hated and despised me.




The nearly overwhelming awe of the WHOLE story about Mildred

is that she exerted a GREATER effort to keep me in hell

than she did trying to OWN her Alaskan mountain homestead paradise


In order for Mildred so survive – from the instant she suffered her psychotic break birthing me – she HAD to have me kept in hell as her replacement for herself

Obtaining her homestead – as described in the volume to be published whose rough draft lies at the end of the link at the beginning of this post – was her highest aspiration — but her survival DID NOT depend upon her ‘being up there’.

From the time I was born and for the following 18 years of my childhood her survival DID DEPEND on her keeping me exactly where she needed me to be –

in her hell instead of herself.  Because she had me trapped by abuse as her proxy self in hell, she could be free to live her ‘upper’ BPD world – which included hope – even hope for finding her heaven-paradise-Shangri la on earth = HOME.


A mountain has no vested concern in being someone’s heaven.

Tough competition between virgin Alaskan mountain wilderness (UP-heaven) and me as a child (DOWN-hell).  I as a young dependent child was forced to be vested with Mildred’s hell.  It took her nearly constant (invisible and behind-the-scenes) abuse of me to keep me ‘where I belonged’.

While her obsession to ‘belong’ on her mountain took just about the effort she describes in her Alaskan homesteading record.


Note:  During the period of time this book (above link) describes Mildred found a way to actually live at the place that was her ‘heaven on earth’.  I understand that although she could never ‘love’ me as she did her ‘upper’ BPD children, at least while she was ‘up there in heaven’ the worst of the pressures that her mental illness created within her were lessened.  This meant that the pressure, so to speak, could then be lifted off of me.

(The majority of Mildred’s BPD-matrix mind was occupied elsewhere during this time – and it was as happy as Mildred could be.)

This meant that during this time I, as her chosen for abuse in hell child was ALSO given a reprieve.  The weeks Mildred taught her children over that 1959 holiday period were the only ‘decent’ days of my childhood.  Except for her blaming me for the coffee taste of the frosting on her Christmas cookies – because supposedly I had not washed the Tupperware container out adequately before she put the confectioner’s sugar in there – I remember no other of her rages at me during this time.

This most importantly meant for me that during this time I ‘got to be’ ONE of the Lloyd children.  I was let out of hell!  I was allowed to be ‘a part of the family’ during this time – this ‘fantastic’, fantasy-driven time in which Mildred lived above the clouds in her magic kingdom – just for a little while.

However, I can see my traumatized state clearly in one photograph taken of me that winter.  I can also see (as a professionally trained art therapist) the very troubled girl I was at 8 years old as I made my Christmas card for Mother.

Never again after the time Mildred describes in her writings within this book did she ever approach her ‘state of perfect grace’ – her temporary reprieve from the worst of her illness – again in relationship to her ‘dream home’.  The patterns, by the way, of her deepest searching for ‘heaven’, for ‘home’, can be seen even in her childhood stories.  In her writings leading up to this reprieve, and in her writings after this time, her illness is evident – at least to me  – as I will highlight in the volumes of “The Demise of Mildred.”

Interestingly, “The Up Down Mountain Waltz” letters and journal writings fall within volume 4 of the “Demise of Mildred” series in what appears to be the middle of this series.  I have yet to complete all the volumes for “Demise” – but this is my guess.


Please click here to read or to Leave a Comment »



  1. Hi Linda, I believe the work you are doing is very important … the more of us who can and are articulate our experience and speak out, breaking the `conspiracy of silence` … the better off we will all be … including the abusers because they are more unconscious (ill) than we are. This is the sickness of our society and the challenge of evolution – in one word: consciousness. I have come to believe those who abuse suffer too … and that comment is part of another, larger conversation.

    I believe it`s important to explain how I used the word archetypal. I don`t know that an academic would agree but here goes: an archetype is a pattern of (cosmic) energy that expresses its self through human experience most often as symbols, metaphor e.g. the hero as archetype … the pattern there is, in my view, three overview stages: departure, journey and a return with an elixir. Anyone who undertakes such a journey personally will be unique to them and (for me) the common theme is: transformation. It is us in our limited, social ego mind that defines anything as `bad` or `good` … at an archetypal level what we experience simply IS … existing without or beyond or above moral judgement.

    You asked: how can abuse happen … for me part of that answer lies in our current stage of human evolution … we are transforming from a level of tribal consciousness and survival mentality where actions are rationalized because everyone is doing it (social) in a group think (I think of orwell’s ‘double think’ too) mind to a more creative, individual consciousness, built on compassion and a community of shared values in a higher consciousness level … but that shift requires `work` (a hero`s journey) … that specifically develops our ability to be more conscious, of our free body, minds and will to make free choice, more fully present in our bodies, without mental projections of the past or unconsciousness overwhelming it … there`s more to `say` but I have to go … later,

  2. Hi Linda,
    What you write is moving … I believed I was the ‘bad’ child compared to my adopted/older sister’s ‘good’ child to both my parents. And a conspiracy of denial by my immediate family to maintain the pretense tortures me. The words apex and nadir … are used by scholar Joseph Campbell’s … do you know his book: Hero With A Thousand Faces? In his describing of the archetypal Hero’s Journey … a concept I believe in part ‘saved my life’ because gave my suffering meaning. Congratulations on the progress of your writing … it is inspiring.

    • Hello Lee, and thank you for that reference. No, I have not been familiar with this book of Campbell’s. I was so frustrated yesterday as I began that post – I had APEX – it clearly shows in Mildred’s – yes – heroic homesteading efforts. I looked up the antonym for APEX and NADIR appeared. I can see this ‘matrix’ as I call it – the flat platform with the upper pyramid and from there the lower pyramid pointing down.

      I had a most difficult time going to sleep last night, only did so as day was breaking. It is my greatest frustration that people DO NOT SEE child abuse. The word that came to me last night was OBLIVIOUS!

      I do not understand that part of the ‘archetypal’ collective (social) mind. What do adults ‘get’ out of letting helpless, innocent, beautiful children suffer at the hands of adults?

      Why does our society persist in the conspiracy of silence that surrounds infant and child abuse?

      I don’t know – no real understanding for me on this – perhaps those of us who KNOW abuse can never know this answer??

      You wrote: “And a conspiracy of denial by my immediate family to maintain the pretense tortures me.”

      I know what you are saying!! I want to write SOMETHING in my books that can bludgeon a hole in that denial!!

      I don’t know if that is possible – and I think I, of all people – given the tools I have to work with – my mother’s own words – ought to be able to do this!!

      I have not given up – even at times when the task I have set for myself appears to be IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s