Category: borderline mother

+ANGER, RAGE, BITTERNESS, RESENTMENT — TELLING US RIGHT FROM WRONG

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I woke up this morning feeling very clear about something in my life around which the giant black-winged bird of bitterness circles, like a creature sure of its prey.  This is good.  It allows me to further explore some of the parameters of this ‘state of being’ named bitterness from the inside rather just from without.

Bitterness.  A personal HOTSPOT!  This reminds me of what I heard during the ten year period of my life from 1980 – 1990 when I attended weekly 12-step meetings:  Resentments kill.

As I look around today at my inner deadly wound that could feed a great swell of bitterness (and of resentment) inside of me today I see that these two states of being must be intimately connected one to the other.

Somehow I had some profound inner certainties arise when I ‘went through treatment’ in 1980, but most of what my inner self knew was not confirmed within the confines of the 12-step meetings I attended.  I was brand new to any form of recovery, and was the first person in the long line of my family and ancestry to do so.  Yet when I encountered the 12-steps that demanded me to understand that I could be ‘restored to sanity’ — I knew fundamentally that I had no experience with ‘sanity’ in my life and had never, ever had the chance to explore its blessings.

‘Recovery’ people around me told me I was ‘resisting’ recovery as I questioned from the insides of myself what made sense about this ‘new way of life’ that was being presented to me and what did not.  “You are rationalizing,” they told me.  “You are intellectualizing,” they told me.

When I tried to do my first ‘4th step’ in treatment and tried to do it right, I tried to write about my ‘resentments’.  Instantly, as soon as I set my recovery-minded pen to paper I encountered an insanely abusive experience of my 9th grade high school self — and my little ‘recovery ship’ blew itself right out of the water.

And there was nobody around me to help me understand the insanely abusive childhood I had lived for 18 years.  There was nobody there — oddly and actually enough — to help me work with the TRUTH that was supposedly at the heart of these 12-step recovery programs.

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On my own, and from within my body, my mind, my self and within my heart of hearts I DID know something important that I used within my own healing.  I knew that every single time I feel ANGER, and every single time I might bump up against or crash into something that could be named RESENTMENT, what I was-am truthfully encountering is the line as I KNOW it between right and wrong.  Every time ‘anger’ or ‘resentment’ appears within me — and as I can see today, the risk for ‘bitterness’ as well, I know that something I HIGHLY VALUE has been touched upon so that I have another extremely important piece of information about who and how I am in the world.

I value RIGHT.  I know the difference between right and WRONG.  Whenever a WRONG has been committed somewhere, my inner alarm of anger, rage, resentment, and/or bitterness goes off.  Instantly and loudly!

What I do with the information about right and wrong is up to me.  Swirling around in the topsy-turvy inner world of anger, rage, resentment and bitterness helps no one RIGHT a WRONG that has been committed.

Ultimately this entire topic, to me, is about this one single thing:  If we as individuals have a strong and powerfully clear inner sense of RIGHT versus WRONG — we can be at very high risk of suffering the consequences of ‘holding onto’ the emotional states encountering breaches of RIGHT versus WRONG will alert us to.  If I cannot give myself permission to identify for my thinking-acting-choosing self something related to a WRONG that I identify, no hope for contributing something to make the world a better place – even if that ‘world’ is simply my own little tiny piece of it.

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Interestingly (to me) the shaky platform of possible resentment and bitterness for me today has to do with something very important to me:  The work I am doing with my mother’s words so that I can publish a complete EXPOSE of the inner world of my mother that NOBODY ELSE seemed to detect outside of our family.

As I work with her words, and as I mentioned in recent posts, discover that words she wrote about her feelings and attitudes of other ADULTS in her life 50 years ago still have the power to unsettle, upset and possibly hurt those living people IF I publish my mother’s words as she wrote them.

I find that this MAKES ME MAD!  These ‘public’ people who today would take a stand to protect their own self from the hurt of my mother’s 50-year-old words are the exact same people WHO NEVER SAW MY MOTHER’S TRUE — TERRIBLY ABUSIVE — OTHER SELF during those years that I especially (and also my siblings) most needed SOMEONE TO HELP US!!!

My intent on publishing this biography – or expose of a monster — is to a large extent to help everyone possible outside a severely abusive parent’s home begin to understand more and more about how much terror, trauma and suffering for infants and children can be going on BEHIND THE NICEY-NICE PUBLIC FACADE of someone as ‘charmingly persuasive’ as my mother was.

That I NOW, after 18 years of unbelievable torture and abuse have to WORRY about the FEELINGS of those same people who did NOT SEE WHAT MY MOTHER WAS CAPABLE OF, or did see, and felt they had no way to intervene on my or my siblings’ behalf, MAKES ME FEROCIOUSLY ANGRY!!

This is UNFAIR, UNJUST and just plain WRONG!  Or is it?  Not according to the law — the same system of law, I might add, who should have arrested my mother (and my father) and charged them with the crimes of assuault, battery, abuse, terror and torture and sentenced them — an imprisoned them both for no less than

14,500 years!

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What this situation is doing for me right now is bringing up right in front of my face what the choice-point feels like — in the present moment — between LEARNING something when a serious breach of RIGHT and WRONG – injustice, lack of fairness — appears, or letting it continue to perpetuate the old wounds so that bitterness and resentment can throw me off of my own good life track.

This brings me to mentioning something that belongs in this discussion at the same time that it is an extremely difficult point for severe infant-child abusers to identify and tackle:  Irony, ambivalence and paradox.

These three states of mind were missing within the body-brain-mind-self of our abusers — especially if our abusers were Borderline Personality Disorder people!

This fact leaves us with the whole giant mess of WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG!!  Without having been given protection or reprieve — at the same time we did not get any version of a handle on how to HANDLE ironic, ambivalent and paradoxical conditions in our lives!!

What I am describing above about having to ‘protect’ the feelings, privacy and rights of grown up people who certainly DID NOT — for whatever reason — even begin to assure that I had those same qualities protected in my childhood — is ironical.  It presents me with my own experience of ambivalence as I consider ‘both sides of the picture’.  And you bet there is a profound, fundamental paradox present in this situation.

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But I CANNOT CHANGE THE REALITY!  None of it.  Whenever anger, resentment, bitterness appear, there is a sure chance that irony, ambivalence and paradox has appeared RIGHT within the conditions that stimulated our ‘fight’ stress response reaction.  How do we find and create our own inner point of calm in the midst of this STORM?

In other words, how do we make our own self ‘RIGHT WITHIN’ while we live in the real world?  Simply finding a way to ‘intellectually (left brain)’ understand reasonably what this whole mess I am experiencing right now is all about will NOT solve the emotional experience of it.

Those of us who have suffered from extreme abuse have an entire universe of body memory, body feeling, and right-brain emotional experience connected to these HOTSPOTS in life.  We have to be aware of this — as I was 30 years ago when I entered so-called ‘recovery’ and could find no one to help me include my own inner wisdom and knowledge with the 12-step ‘plan’ for ‘recovery’.

“Follow your instincts,” would be my most simple and accurate advice.  If you FEEL anger, range, bitterness, resentment — you are face-to-face with SOME kind of injustice that has been committed and still might exist.  LOOK AT THE INJUSTICE that is at the heart of what stimulated your reaction.  You have been ‘trauma triggered’.  WHAT DO YOU TRULY KNOW ABOUT IT?   WHAT YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED?   Tend to the wound that needs healing within YOU (and within those you love and care about, as well).

But do not pretend that the injustice does not exist.  If we HAVE these reactions I am talking about, I firmly and absolutely believe that they are physiologically triggered by our immune system’s response to harm and to threat of harm!  This HAS to be a fact because all our emotions, especially our most intense, powerful, primitive survival-based emotions of FEAR AND ANGER (as well as SADNESS) are directly tied into our basic nervous system (body-brain) which is PROTECTED by our immune system response.

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Human life is complicated.  No way around this fact.

What stimulated the immune-triggered developmental changes in my mother than made her grow into the ‘kind of person’ she was meant that the powerful inner bitterness of a terribly wounded, powerless but still FIGHTING little child removed from my mother the power of consciousness about what had happened to her, ‘what’ she became as a result of it, how bitter she was – AND HOW MEAN AND DANGEROUS SHE WAS.

Every single time my mother uses a single, solitary word ‘against’ another adult in her life 50 years ago is PROOF of the quality of MEAN my mother was.  But these tiny words, no matter what they were, no matter how disparaging and offensive they might appear NOW for the people she was writing about — were NOTHING compared to what was going on within the ‘home’ she terrorized and controlled.

Yes, I DO profoundly wish to expose the kind of ‘monster’ my mother was.  I want to DO SOMETHING to help others ‘out there in the world’ begin to wake up and pay attention when their own INNER WARNING system goes off inside of themselves that SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THIS PERSON!

How else are we truly going to make any progress whatsoever toward protecting suffering infants and children who are being tormented, tortured, traumatized and abused — by viciously cruel, mean and dangerous parents — FREELY and without consequence.?

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I am within conflict.  I am willing to change the names of the people my mother wrote about.  But I do not wish to alter the pattern of my mother’s mean words.  They are what this story is about.

My personal feelings right now are mine to deal with.  They let me know that I have great JUSTIFIABLE anger at the adults in my childhood that did not HELP me or my siblings.  But as the 12-step programs DO SAY, holding onto the anger, bitterness and resentments do not make anything better.  They can educate us about right and wrong, about choice, about opportunities for improving life all the way around.  But left alone as simple physiological states tied to mental patterns that are destructive help no one.

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In case there are readers who are unfamiliar with my ‘story’, here are some links to read (warning:  may trigger):

*Age 3 – THE TOILET BOWL

*Age 5 – THE BUBBLE GUM

*AGE 6 – FIRST GRADE — NIGHT ON THE STOOL

*Age 9 – BLOODY NOSE

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+FEELING BITTER – BITTERNESS AS A STATE OF MIND, A STATE OF BEING: “NO THANKS!”

alchemynow8 Comments

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The word ‘bitter’ came up in some comments recently.  All the time I’ve been out working this morning on my adobe project I have been thinking about this word and about its corresponding ‘state of being’ or ‘state of mind’.

Looking at the definition (see below) I see that the origins of this word are connected to BITE, and that the word has been in our modern Enlglish language for a long time (since before the 12th century).  This is not a new word, and does not apply to some distant, remote intellectual concept or idea.  I suspect that the feeling of bitter, and the experience of bitterness are primary and fundamental to the human condition.

I am trying to imagine at what age a child might be capable of feeling bitter.  I can’t imagine that it is a feeling that is even humanly possible before the age of three, perhaps four.  What developmental stages must a person have completed before the potential for feeling bitter becomes active-activated?

This looks to me to be one of those comprehensive emotions that involves thoughts as well as very real emotions in the body – as they are processed through the right emotional brain.  It’s a tough one, one more than I can begin to comprehend today.  I will just say that I am ‘thinking about it’.

This feeling and/or state of being is NOT one of well-being, joyfulness, or of peace and calm.  It sounds like one that can eat a person up alive — like a cancer.  I would guess that crashed hopes, disappointments, betrayal, perhaps retained childish fantasies of a perfect world, inability to tolerate ‘any more pain’, confusion about how to resolve conflict (i.e. ruptures without repair), along with a sense of powerless must all contribute to the complexity of ‘bitter’.

While I was working outside today before it got too hot and I had to retreat inside for shelter, I was thinking that this word, ‘bitter’, makes me think of ‘soul sickness’.  Of course I don’t really, actually KNOW what soul is, I can’t make logical sense out of this idea that came to me:  Bitterness can be healed through informed compassion and forgiveness.

It would seem to me that ‘bitterness’ would create such an imbalance within a person that vast amounts of life force would be removed from the actual LIVING of a person’s life because the life force would be all tied up in the dead-end condition that bitterness creates.  Of all emotional states of being that I can imagine today, it strikes me that this one, feeling bitter, might be one that needs to be on the absolute top of the priority heap for removal and/or transformation.

Talk about a ‘monkey wrench’ thrown into the gears of a person’s ongoing life, ‘bitterness’ could do that.  From an autonomic nervous system, and vagus nerve system, and stress response system perspective — bitterness to me would take its place when all other responses to trauma, threat, challenge (as well as growth) have proved inadequate and completely ineffective and useless.

The antidote to bitterness must be in taking actions connected to clearly identifying the ‘problems’ at the heart of the bitterness — and then finding active ways to try to gain new confidence, competence and ‘coping resources’ to be able to move off of the ‘stopped dead in your tracks’ state of bitterness that solves absolutely NOTHING.

I have been searching and searching inside of myself today trying to find any ‘sore spot’ within me where bitterness might lie.  I honestly can’t find one — which is some ways amazes me — and makes me curious.  How could I have experienced 18 years of terror and abuse as a child and NOT feel bitter?  It feels like a miracle, a gift — something that was spiritually given to me that I take completely fore granted.  I don’t think it’s something I avoided by myself!  Which leads me today to realize how grateful I am for this gift, and how I wish to say, “Thank You” to Creation for its absence in my life.

It must be some kind of mercy that has been shown to me — and on a ‘soul’ level, I know it’s not something that I either earned or deserved.  That’s what’s so special about gifts.

But this does not mean I am not vulnerable to ‘bitterness’ in the future.  I hope I can pay attention, be wary and vigilant — so that if ever the tiniest shred of bitterness appears within me, I will be able to either root it out or pray it out!!

Bitterness is NOT ‘a keeper’!  I am a big fan of things that are constructive (rather than things that are destructive).  I don’t want bitterness in me, in my relationships, in my life.  Perhaps I learned this lesson because of how SUPER bitter my mother was, and saw its potential for harming others.  Maybe I was ‘helped’ to be free of bitterness myself because I SO DIDN’T WISH TO HARM anyone else — and as a side benefit, I don’t have to suffer from it either!  Hey!  That’s pretty cool!

(Maybe I see being bitter like being bored – a waste of time!)

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BITTER

Etymology: Middle English, from Old English biter; akin to Old High German bittar bitter, Old English bītan to bite — more at bite Date: before 12th century

1 a : being or inducing the one of the four basic taste sensations that is peculiarly acrid, astringent, or disagreeable and suggestive of an infusion of hops — compare salt, sour, sweet b : distasteful or distressing to the mind : galling <a bitter sense of shame>
2 : marked by intensity or severity: a : accompanied by severe pain or suffering <a bitter death> b : being relentlessly determined : vehement <a bitter partisan> c : exhibiting intense animosity <bitter enemies> d (1) : harshly reproachful <bitter complaints> (2) : marked by cynicism and rancor <bitter contempt> e : intensely unpleasant especially in coldness or rawness <a bitter wind>
3 : expressive of severe pain, grief, or regret <bitter tears>

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In case there are readers who are unfamiliar with my ‘story’, here are some links to read (warning:  may trigger):

*Age 3 – THE TOILET BOWL

*Age 5 – THE BUBBLE GUM

*AGE 6 – FIRST GRADE — NIGHT ON THE STOOL

*Age 9 – BLOODY NOSE

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+WORD WARRIOR NEWS: MY BROKEN, BROKEN, BROKEN MOTHER

alchemynow2 Comments

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I just spoke on the telephone with a woman in her mid-80s in Alaska, JV,  who other than my mother’s mother, maintained the longest relationship with my mother of Mildred’s lifetime.  I visited with JV last when I visited Alaska last summer.  It had been about 38 years since I had seen her.  Now when I talk on the phone to JV that visit certainly helps.  She and I can ‘see’ one another now.  And I am grateful beyond words for JV — as an amazing woman — and for the friendship she had with my mother.

I needed to talk with JV about the issue of what my mother says in her letters about her.  JV very reasonably said, “I have to see what she said about me.”  I assured JV as I go through my next edit I will pull out all the references to her and to her family my mother makes and print a copy to send to her.  JV, out of all people on earth, knows exactly the entire context for the entire story of my mother, and probably knew her better than anyone ever did.

JV and I made an appointment for a telephone visit a week from this Saturday, on the 17th of July.  She would have spoken to me this coming Saturday, but I have to prepare myself for this conversation.  JV is not a writer, but she wants to tell me what she knows.  I will be sitting at my computer and will document everything that JV has to say.

JV is the last person, other than the hospital personnel in the emergency, to speak to my mother before her death.

Here is one thing JV told me tonight that will give you an idea of the kinds of things JV knows and wishes to tell me about my mother.  Long after I had left home, after my mother and father’s divorce, my mother had rented a very expensive two bedroom apartment that was beyond her means to keep.  She charged all kinds of expensive furnishings for it, even though both JV and her husband tried (as they did probably hundreds and hundreds of times during the years they knew my mother — 1957 to 2002) to warn Mildred about her actions — to no avail.

During this period Mildred was becoming increasingly paranoid of her grown children, JV says, until it reached the point that my mother wrote “666” on her forehead and on her hands “to protect herself from the devil and from her children because the devil had taken them from her.”

When I talk, as I did in my earlier post today about the seriousness of Borderline Personality Disorder, I am thinking about how even this one single action of my mother’s had roots in the entire spectrum of illness that had swallowed my mother whole from the time she was a little, little girl.

JV told me tonight that many times she knew there were things mother was doing with her children (meaning in particular with me) that were terribly, terribly WRONG.  There was no talk of ‘reporting’ abusive parents to authorities back then in the late 50s-early 60s.  JV did her best to intervene, and talked with my mother — and every time this happened my mother broke off contact with JV for a long, long time.

JV wants to tell me these stories.  I think in the year that has passed since last summer when she and I and my youngest brother visited, at which time I gave JV the ‘handle’ on my mother that Mildred was not simply ‘eccentric’ but was severely abusive and severely mentally ill — JV has been thinking about our family’s situation.  She wants to help us to heal, and I explained to her tonight that the potential for healing with this story is far greater than ‘just’ for the Lloyd family children.

When I mentioned earlier today in a post about the dream I had last night about fighting the good fight and causing no harm or hurt, I mentioned San Miguel, or Saint Michael as well as the Cherub image regarding the combined image of the bull and the lion that relates to guarding the gates — of truth.

St. Michael, in Catholic belief, leads the Army of Light against the Army of Darkness.  The story at the link I posted earlier about St. Michael (San Miguel) is a fascinating one — and is specifically about healing.

My mother’s story, and my and my siblings’ stories as her offspring, carry within them the seeds of healing because they present the potential of harm the absence of the ‘light’ creates.  My mother’s mind was dark, no matter how bubbly, vivacious, creative, determined, etc. she might have appeared to others.  JV knows the truth about my mother.  My mother – also – shared with JV (as perhaps the only human being she ever did so with) the awful, dark truth about her own horrific childhood.  It is very possible that JV wishes to share some of those stories with me as well.

I feel like a vessel.  I feel like a tool.  I feel like a conduit or a channel for a story that resonates with others who suffered severe, unbelievably severe child abuse.  But it is NOT just the story that matters, in spite of all the words that the story is crafted from.  What matters are the patterns that exist within the story — and it is my part, my job, my mission, my responsibility, and my greatest hope that I will be able to FIND, identify and clearly point to these patterns in my mother’s life.

Borderline Personality Disorder IS ABOUT PATTERNS.  We can call these patterns symptoms – but they are, to me, so much more than that.  These patterns are the outward signs of an evolutionarily altered being (as Dr. Martin Teicher and his research group describe).  Although Teicher, et. al. do not specifically point to or even mention BPD, I personally believe that in cases as severe as my mother’s was, the signs, the patterns are clearly visible.  My mother was a gifted child, whose body-brain-mind-self was formed within an early environment that was hazardous to her health — and changed her development so that she ended up becoming an entirely different person than who she would have become if her needs had been met from birth.

I am grateful for the gift that JV is going to give me – give us.  I have to prepare for this interview conversation with her.  Any of you readers who understand what I am presenting here and wish to offer prayers that this work be done well and reach those who can be helped to heal from it — thank you!

We are doing battle with the darkness, though I will not call it evil.  We are talking about dis-ease here — and one that we need as much information about as possible.  Mine is an information and fact-finding mission.  Mercy!  I even have to wish myself well on what is coming up next!

I believe there is a constellation of patterns with the severely abusive Borderline psyche-body-mind that can be identified, and I believe the comprehensive story of my mother’s holds a vitally important key that can unlock the mystery behind ‘splitting-projecting’ severely abusive parents.  I am looking for the patterns and I am looking for this key.  I am looking.  I am looking.  I am looking……

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+JULY 1958 – LETTER FROM MY GRANDMOTHER AFTER HER 1ST TRIP TO SEE US IN ALASKA

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Letter July 13, 1958 from my mother’s mother to her daughter (my mother) – had just arrived home from her first trip to see us in Alaska – sounds also like it was her first plane trip.  (Charles is my mother’s brother)

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July 13, 1958 Sunday –

Dearest Mil,

I miss you all just terribly.  I even miss Alaska the beautiful.  I didn’t realize how much it got under my skin until I began to try to put it all in words for Carolyn and Charles last night.  But first let me say:

I arrived home exactly on time schedule – five minutes ahead of time, I guess.  Mil, it was a “heavenly trip.”  As I told you on the card from Seattle – the trip from Anchorage was “perfect” – nothing less.  The sky was blue – blue – and the sun shone all the way.  The plane was not crowded.  The pilots were in a happy mood with weather conditions so they let themselves go.  Went up as high as 20,000 feet and let speed go over 400 mph – maybe 450, but over 400 anyhow they told us (got into Seattle an hour early).  Consequently it was “clear sailing in the clouds” – like dreams of old when I rocked the children and pretended we were sailing through the blue!  I wrote down a brief sketch of what I saw which I’ll copy over to send to them in a few days.

Of course, like you not having a camera when you wanted it, I had no paper to write on – or I’d have written on the plane.  Instead I wrote over envelopes and old bills but I “had to write it out” – or burst.  “You” know that urge!  So you’ll get my soaring reaction later on in the week if I can do it.  I’m all for flying.  I’ve an air-minded grandmother from now on.  I’ll come up for any old weekend – or even once in awhile for a testing program.  I’d like to “take off” for the East tomorrow.  In fact I might before summer is over – on the work proposition.

Our writing must earn the money THIS YEAR.  Get “Life” – or I’ll send you my copy on Alaska!  You could have done better.  But, damn it, like anything else we must get first contacts to get our start for you.  Enough of that.

My trip from Seattle to L.A. was equally perfect.  Got a window seat in both planes.  I sat glued to it – except when we merely sailed over the solid white icing of clouds – that looked like frosting on a cake.  Again the sun shone all the way.  The sky was – blue – blue.  I loved it all – mountains- water and clouds.  A bit of heaven.  And the fairyland of lights left me breathless at the end.

In Seattle we got in an hour early due to speed.  Got in at 3 o’clock.  I had a “cake” after freshening up, bought a Saturday Evening Post – settled down in an easy chair and read until 5:30.  In between I spied a gift shop in the station so I got an uneasy conscience for not bringing more to the home folks.  So I bought a little dollar copper bracelet for Sandra – two of those tie strings (like Bill’s) for the two Charlies and a pair of shell earrings for Carolyn.  They think they all came from Alaska because the cabin and cache did.  So they are pleased with the tiny trifles.  Of course I couldn’t buy the shell earrings for Carolyn without buying a pair for you too – so I’ll mail them with the doll tomorrow.

This is all mixed up I know, but you’ll figure it out, I know.  Well I was the first on the plane and got my favorite seat.  Had a seat-mate that was returning from Business Professional Women’s National Convention so we were companionable.  She was the Deputy Insurance Commissioner for the State of Arkansas – living at Little Rock – was a very charming, interesting person.

Trip really seemed short!

Not crowded plane.  Excellent food.  Just love the comfort service on board a plane.  Also wish you could install such an efficient toilet like one on board [on the homestead]!

Charlie was at the airport and tapped me on the shoulder as I was checking out my luggage.  He was all agog for every bit of news about you and Bill, what you are up to, and about Alaska.  That’s when I realized that you had imbibed me with the contagious spirit – and I talked about all phases of it.  Charlie wished he could have gone up – but it is August that he would go to Seattle, if at all.  I’m afraid it wouldn’t be hard for him to be sold on Alaska – especially for summer or business projects.  But knowing some things, I shall never urge it.  I know you want to be alone up there with Bill – to get away – anyhow one never knows how another would feel until he got the feel of the land himself.  But Charlie has so many sides which cry for the open – it does have appeal to him.

Charlie is out finishing the “tree house” which fell apart and he remodeled it with good lumber – put in windows and painted green.  About six foot square, roof, etc.  Told him it would do for one on a homestead.  Really nice looking.  If larger would really be called a little cabin, I guess.  Last night was so anxious to know how long one would have to stay on a homesite or homestead or business property – whether one had to be intended to remain.  I assured him it would be for seven months with the family for homesteading.

He said taxes are the killing proposition for him.  He earns plenty, he says, but has as little left after expenses and taxes as if he were in something with less stress and strain and bringing in what he earns after everything is taken away.  He has money for investment – but I know better than suggesting that he look for investments up there [in Alaska], because I know you wouldn’t like it.  Funny old world.  Oh I can’t take time now to think or write more.  I’m still confused and so anxious for everyone to find security and peace and happiness!  Simpleton that I am – but I can’t help it.

But now let me say again and again what a happy and short month I had in Alaska.  Now I feel a part of it all.  I’m sorry I was such a tired piece of humanity up there – but it did me a world of good.  I know you have friends there – so won’t worry so much as before about that angle.  They are good people, fools like myself, all of us trying to make some sort of a picture with the jig-saw puzzles of life today.

I am so relieved, thrilled and happy to find your and your own natural exuberant, progressive self.  Don’t change.  Be yourself.  I’m in the background to help you and Bill in any way I can.  I wish I could be more help – but you two are taking wonderful steps toward a grand way of life!  I’ll write more and more later.  Now they wonder if I’m writing a BOOK to you.

Thanks for a wonderful time.  Thanks to Bill for his patience.  He was so sweet at the airport.  John was a little man!  I love him.  I love each one dearly.  Kiss them all.  Will send Cindy’s and Sharon’s birthday presents this week.  As always, Best love from Mother –

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+BE VERY CAREFUL OF A ‘BORDERLINE’ NAME CHANGE – WE DON’T YET KNOW ENOUGH

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I do not agree that the name for Borderline Personality Disorder can be accurately or effectively changed – YET!  This post is about why not.

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From the BPD Today website:

“The term BPD was coined during a time when little was known about this disorder. This name does not describe the disorder accurately and a new name needs to take it’s place. Emotional regulation disorder is very commonly used along with emotional intensity disorder.

Feel free to vote yourself on the name for this very painful disorder and read information on other’s thoughts.”

NAME SUGGESTIONS ON THIS SITE

Emotional Regulation Disorder

Emotional Intensity Disorder

Impulsive Disorder

Impulsive-Emotional Dysregulation Disorder

Impulse Regulation Disorder

Emotionally Unstable Disorder

Emotional Impulsive Disorder

Emotionally Impulsive Disorder

None of the above

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I would expect a collection of possible names for a change from Borderline Personality Disorder like this one to appear through some joint effort of a group of 5th graders!

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Every single one of these name suggestions (except the last one!) is a simple description of what nearly half of our population suffers from to one degree or another:  A developmentally changed emotional processing ability caused by an insecure attachment disorder.  (Remember – feeling NOTHING is not a healthy way to regulate emotions, either!)

Early infant-caregiver interactions FORM the right emotional-social brain’s regulatory abilities – or not.  Given that currently experts suggest that 50% to 55% of the population has a secure attachment brain, and that the other 50% to 45% of the population does not – then – DO THE MATH!

If there is a problem of ‘stigma’ with the name for BPD, deal with the stigma.

If there is a problem with many people being misdiagnosed and tossed into this disorder’s category because it is being used as some sort of catch-all – deal with professional inaccuracy.

BUT – until researchers can specifically and accurately pinpoint the nervous system and brain changes that are FUNDAMENTAL indicators that Borderline Personality Disorder exists within the physiological BODY of a person, we cannot safely or reasonably change the name of this disorder.

This day is coming.  We might get the willies thinking about the ramifications of being diagnosed with a so-called ‘mental disorder’ through such specific and accurate means – but why would it be any different that all the current ‘medical’ diseases being diagnosed through blood tests, MRIs, etc.?

Not one single ONE of these suggested ‘new’ names carries any useful information about what is unique about Borderline Personality Disorder other than having difficulty regulating emotions – which happens to nearly half of our population that has some degree of insecure attachment disorder.

This would be like someone identifying one of my little pinky’s fingernails, and then suggesting they know EVERYTHING possible about my body from that tiny fragment of information.  ‘Emotional dysregulation’ is a result of inadequate early infant-caregiver brain building interactions.  Yes, a MAJOR problem, but nothing more than the very tip of the beginning for understanding WHAT Borderline Personality Disorder is and what it does to a human being.

My advise?  “Be extremely careful here, folks!  Do not let the ‘snake’ charm you!”  Until we can identify exactly what the venom of the ‘snake’ of the disease of Borderline actually IS, where it came from, how to handle it safely, and how to protect especially the offspring of BPD parents from the extremely dangerous potential that BPD carries for child abuse, we better quit wasting time trying to invent a senseless, meaningless, useless (innocuous?) name for a devastating disorder that we know VERY LITTLE about!

I believe that Borderline Personality Disorder is a symptom of trauma-altered infant=child development that has affected all areas of development.  The central nervous system – including the brain – has been changed so that the regions, circuits, pathways and patterns of the BPD brain DO NOT MATCH “NORMAL.”  The autonomic nervous system (the stress response (HPA-axis) and the calm/connection systems) have been changed, along with the vagus nerve system.  I believe that in approximately 10 years serious and fruitful research into BPD will also identify alterations in immune system response, as well.

THIS IS A VERY BIG DEAL!  The development of ‘self’, of consciousness, of conscience, of perception of reality, of the ability to recognize ‘self and other’, of the ability to ‘feel felt’ and have a ‘Theory of Mind’ that allows for true empathy and appropriate response, of the ability to process ‘time and space’, formation and operation of all memory-related abilities, and the operation of dissociation, ‘splitting’ and ‘projection’ are all aspects of BPD that delineate this disorder into one that requires far more than a modicum of attention from 5th-grade level imagination – and its ‘pretend’ belief that the ONLY thing that is disturbed in BPD is regulation of emotions!

To ignore the facts is dangerous as well as stupid, no matter what the supposed intentions might be to ‘spare a poor Borderline’ from social stigma.  Once upon a time someone might have been able to sanely say, “Give Hitler a cup of hot chocolate and he will get better.”  Are we smarter now about the massive complications of human early development that could create such a monster?  I suppose we might be.  There are people today who have advanced to this level:  “Give that man a cup of hot chocolate and ADD MARSHMALLOWS and NOW everything will be better.”  (i.e., “change the name.”)

Is making a reference to Hitler insensitive and just plain rude?  Think about it.  What power especially MOTHERS have to influence the total body-brain-mind-self development of their offspring!  They are affecting not only the lifespan of their children, but their children’s children.  True, a much smaller universe.  But believe me — my Mother was not a whole lot ‘less evil’ than any Hitler could have been within the domain of her very own home.

If there are currently people diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder – I say again — who do NOT BELONG in that diagnostic category — THIS IS A PROBLEM in itself that has nothing to do with the diagnostic criteria for this disorder itself.

Guess what?  I don’t think so.

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FYI:

Psychobiology and molecular genetics of resilience

Adriana Feder1, Eric J. Nestler2 & Dennis S. Charney2

Abstract

Every individual experiences stressful life events. In some cases acute or chronic stress leads to depression and other psychiatric disorders, but most people are resilient to such effects. Recent research has begun to identify the environmental, genetic, epigenetic and neural mechanisms that underlie resilience, and has shown that resilience is mediated by adaptive changes in several neural circuits involving numerous neurotransmitter and molecular pathways. These changes shape the functioning of the neural circuits that regulate reward, fear, emotion reactivity and social behaviour, which together are thought to mediate successful coping with stress.

+LAST NIGHT’S DREAM: FIGHTING AND WINNING THE PERFECT FIGHT WHERE NOBODY GETS HURT

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Having been granted (in effect) ‘a stay of execution’ from aggressive, advanced cancer as I mentioned in my previous post, I can think of something I would so much RATHER be doing than sit here at this computer and write this post.

I WANT to be at some beautiful ocean beach with good friends and happy children, watching and listening to ocean waves crashing upon the shore.  I want to walk barefoot on warm slippery rocks as I investigate fascinating miniature life in tide pools there.  I want to lay back in the perfect warmth of a sunny day and watch puffy clouds glide across the sky while below them sailboats slide across the sparkling, glistening water toward the horizon.

But, no.  Here I am with a dream story to tell.  Even here though, I want to change myself from the “I” of the story into someone else – not me – though it was ME in this dream and me who dreamed it.  So I might as well get on with this telling now, because I know I will not rest until this post is written, nor will I be able to move on.  I have work to do in this time I have been given on this earth……

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I was in a small and humble village that was a ‘cross’ between something like a small American Pennsylvania town and a remote village in Mexico.  A man discovered that I contained-possessed a great talent and a remarkable gift.  He brought me to a yard in this town, and soon after our arrival people began to gather.

In the center of the yard people began to clear and level a spot on the ground for a boxing ring.  Part way through the owner of the house pulled a small white object out of the moist black earth in the center of the yard and began gently brushing the soil off of it.

“Oh!” He quietly exclaimed.  “It is San Miguel that watches over you and guides you with this gift!”

I am not Catholic.  I know nothing about Saints, and do not really understand about angels.  What I saw in that man’s hand as he turned, continuing to mutter silently and reverently to himself as he left to wash this little statue, was a figure that looked to me to be part bull and part lion.  (See notes below)

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I was prepared by the man who had found me and my gift, and who had escorted me to this place and called the people to gather, for the boxing ring.  I know nothing about boxing.  Nor did I know in the dream.  But into the ring I climbed and fought with a worthy opponent a perfect boxing match – much to the delight of every man and woman watching.

I seemed to have butterfly wings for feet that could move faster than a hummingbird’s wing.  I could see into the future and perfectly deflect every punch that was thrown my way.  I felt myself to be in a completely different world as the fight progressed, and in the end, after 12 rounds, I won even though not a single instant of pain or violence had actually transpired.

I humbly had been given the most miraculous gift of being able to box through a perfect fight without causing or experiencing any harm at all.

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A week later everyone gathered again to watch yet another match.  All these people were humble and more friendly than I had ever known humans to be.  There was a sense of love, respect and again reverent appreciation for this gift I had been given – to fight the perfect fight.

This second time we all waited a long time for the man who had discovered me – my ‘manage’ to arrive.  Eventually word was sent that he could not come.  Slightly disappointed, the crowd continued to visit – and I woke from my dream.

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I believe this dream came to me in part because of the great conflict I experienced yesterday as I realized that my mother’s written words, eight years after her death and fifty years after she wrote them, still contain the power to hurt some of the still-living people she wrote about.  (see the parallel line of concerns expressed in the comment section HERE.)

That does not mean (according to my dream) that I cannot ‘fight the perfect fight’ in relation to what I hope to accomplish by my work with my mother’s writings.  I was surprised to read information online like what I mention below.  The connections between my mother, the severe child abuse she perpetrated, the deeply disturbed relationships she had with everyone in her life – and my fight against severe child abuse – become obvious in looking at the meaning to me of this dream.

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Saint Michael the Archangel

Catholic Prayer to Saint Michael

Saint Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray;
and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host –
by the Divine Power of God –
cast into hell, satan and all the evil spirits,
who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Amen.

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What is a Cherub?

“Cherubim are first mentioned in the Bible in Gen 3:24, where Adam and Eve are expelled from the Garden, and two cherubim are set at the gate to guard it, so that no one may enter.

In Ex 25f and 36f, the Israelites are to make a chest called the Ark of the Covenant, and place on the lid statues of two cherubim, with their wings arching over and meeting in the middle. Aside from the fact that they had wings, we are not told anything about their appearance. It was apparently taken for granted that the Israelites already knew what a cherub was supposed to look like. It is a reasonable guess that they looked like the guard figures already standard in Middle Eastern art, as noted above.

Ancient Middle Eastern art regularly shows the throne of a king or a god flanked by, or sometimes resting on, two creatures. Typically, each creature has the body of a lion or a bull (often the front quarters of a lion, with claws, and the hind quarters of a bull, with hooves, or vice versa), the head of a man, and the wings of an eagle.”

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The Lion and the Bull image:

The Sumerian word lama, which in Akkadian is translated as lamassu, refers to a helpful and protective female god. The corresponding male god was called alad, in Akkadian, šêdu (cf. Hebrew שד šed).[1]

In art they were depicted as hybrids, as winged bulls or lions with the head of a human male. There are still surviving figures of šêdu in bas-relief and some statues in museums. Notable examples of šêdu/lamassu held by museums include those at the British Museum, Musée du Louvre, National Museum of Iraq, Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Oriental Institute, Chicago. They are generally attributed to the ancient Assyrians.[2][3]

To protect houses the šêdu were engraved in clay tablets, which were buried under the door’s threshold.   At the entrance of palaces often placed as a pair. At the entrance of cities they were sculpted in colossal size, and placed as a pair, one at each side of the door of the city, that generally had doors in the surrounding wall, each one looking towards one of the cardinal points.

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+ADOBE – CONNECTING THE WALKWAY (ALMOST)

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It has happened.  Eleven A.M. and too hot to work any more outside.  Progress thus far:

Happy tomato plants, happy pomegranate - and dirt
Healing a rose in the middle there, and some new yellow flowers - all waiting for the rains.
Coming full circle, the walkway will be connected here - soon, I hope - but not today

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+AN INTENSE AND IMPORTANT MORNING

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I suffer no from no illusions about this work I am doing with my mother’s writings.  Three years ago today I started a heavy-duty chemotherapy treatment regime for the advanced, aggressive breast cancer that had been identified.  By December I went through a double mastectomy, at which it was discovered that I had two cancers in my left breast (none in my right, that removal was preventative).

The cancer had been there at least three years before it was discovered.  That means to me that I am now looking backwards in time at six years of having been living under the shadow of the cloud of cancer.  I know that my life has been spared for now because there is important work I need to do.  I no longer have any imagined luxury of wasting time!!

I have two posts that need to be written today, and this is not one of them.  I am outside extending my adobe walkway until the sun is higher overhead and I am – again – baked out of the adobe business for another day.  Meanwhile, I am thinking as my body works to dig and lift and stir and lay this mud into something that looks like landscaping.  I am thinking about the website I mentioned in my last post, specifically regarding their list of potential names for Borderline Personality Disorder because it seems there are many people who don’t like the name it has now.  I am in disagreement, entirely, not only with the entire effort, but with ALL the potential names listed on that website.

I am also deeply thinking about the amazing dream I had last night and woke up from at five in the morning.  I knew I did not want to go back to sleep.  This dream is important.  I knew if I stayed awake I would remember it, and if I went back to sleep I would not.  Besides, the daylight outside at that hour is not hot and it’s a perfect time to get out there.

So back to the mud I will go — and I will be back here later…..

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+GREAT BPD WEBSITE –

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A Borderline Personality Disorder website – LOTS of information here – Take a Look:

BPD TODAY

Their bookstore

NEW BPD Books
BPD Books for Consumers
BPD Family Books
Book about BPD Children
BPD Clinical Books
Other Related Books
Child Abuse Books
Self Harm Books
Dissociative Identity Disorder Books
Mental Health Medication Books
Mental Health Bookstore

The best thing about this site for me was this, because I intend to mail to them a copy of the book of my mother’s writings to them when it is ready for publication:

Border Personality Disorder Books

Authors and publishers:  I regret I cannot exchange email with you due to my schedule. However, I review all books. Please feel free to send your review copy to: Mental Health Today, P.O. Box 443, Stayton, OR  97383-0443.

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+THE ‘BODY’ OF MY MOTHER’S WRITING – GETTING READY FOR THE AUTOPSY

alchemynow3 Comments

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There are a few minor scattered thoughts remaining for me to clear from my ‘bowling lane’ before I can continue moving through the first edit of my mother’s writings.

The first thought that just came into my mind has to do with this overall process I am engaged in, that of completing my forensic autobiography of my severely abusive infant-childhood.

As a part of this process I began to consider the separated, missed up mess of my mother’s writings that I ‘inherited’ after her 2002 death.  The thought just came to me as a right brain image, really, that when we speak of the collection of all of a person’s writing – be they alive or be they dead – we often speak of this collection as being “the body of their work.”

Perhaps not unlike a verbal archaeologist I have sorted out, organized, ordered and transcribed all of my mother’s words that were left in my hands as they were written on pieces, scraps and shreds of paper.  Now that I have completed the transcription into typed digital format of the ‘body’ of my mother’s writings I understand that:

(1) not only were there holes originally left in this chronicle because letters were never written about certain events in the first place, such as her severe child abuse, and

(2) there are holes in the account because a few important events were communicated via telephone conversation rather than through the written word, and

(3) there are holes in the chronicle because over time my mother chose to destroy parts of letters and entire letters – which of course was her right — and

(4) there are also holes that exist in this body of her work because not ALL of her letters, diaries, journals and notes survived these past 50 years.

In effect, if I look at this ‘body of my mother’s written work’ from an archeological perspective, I can consider the missing pieces to be like bones missing from some ancient body’s skeleton.  The pieces of writing that do exist from her ‘body of work’ are the skeletal fragments that remain.

From this body I am leaving out in the main version of the collection of her work, ‘the body of her work’, any analysis or interpretation.  What will remain is simply what DOES remain of her chronicle of this section of her life.

Two additional words just came to me in relation to this train of thought:  POSTULATE and CONJECTURE.  Neither of these words (in my thinking) are covered by the words or process of ‘analysis’ or ‘interpretation’.

When I searched Webster’s online dictionary for POSTULATE I encountered connections within the word that surprised me:

POSTULATE

Etymology: Latin postulatus, past participle of postulare; akin to Latin poscere to ask, Old High German forscōn to search, Sanskrit pṛcchati he asks — more at pray

Date: 1593

1 : demand, claim
2 a : to assume or claim as true, existent, or necessary : depend upon or start from the postulate of b : to assume as a postulate or axiom (as in logic or mathematics)

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Perhaps if I had a higher intelligence, or perhaps if I could pursue this entire process of working with the ‘remains’ of ‘the body’ of my severely abusive mother OBJECTIVELY I would have already formed one or more POSTUALTES regarding what happened to my mother and what happened to me (and to her other offspring).

Yet, specifically, it appears that POSTULATE is very much about the asking, the searching – and the praying.  Yes, the essence of my own work is happening because I am making a demand, I am staking my own claim for the truth like my parents staked claim to 160 acres of their Alaskan mountain homestead.

But I try very hard not to ‘assume’ anything that might in the end distract me from finding the ‘mother lode’ of truth, as if I am digging into the mountain of what is known and what can be found both within my own living BODY of memory and experience, and within the ‘body’ of my mother’s written words.

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In effect, while I have pieced together the skeleton of the existing ‘body’ of my mother’s written words, I am now pursing the next stage of making sure all the parts of my mother’s writings are as coherent as they need to be without altering the ‘body’ itself.  This might be like dusting off the pieces, or scraping off the barnacles if the ‘body’ fragments had been found underneath the sea.

Then the next stage of this process will be to perform an autopsy on this ‘body of my mother’s writings’.  Although perhaps a rather grim and gruesome image, performing an autopsy of any kind on one’s deceased mother, how else could I add to the body of knowledge I am accumulating in my forensic autobiographical work?

Like any other re-searcher of the past, I will be looking for patterns that appear in visible details that I can POINT to.  Yet no matter how specific, careful and accurate I attempt to be, eventually I will have to TRULY move into a stage that involves CONJECTURE.  Now, if this isn’t interesting:

CONJECTURE

Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French or Latin; Middle French, from Latin conjectura, from conjectus, past participle of conicere, literally, to throw together, from com- + jacere to throw — more at jet

Date: 14th century

1 obsolete a : interpretation of omens b : supposition
2 a : inference from defective or presumptive evidence b : a conclusion deduced by surmise or guesswork c : a proposition (as in mathematics) before it has been proved or disproved

I am not interested at the moment in exploring the connection of CONJECTURE to JET.  There are 18 separate entries for the word, including the references to mining an intense jet-black coal used for making jewelry.

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What this word CONJECTURE makes me think about as a projection into the future when I am ready to move onto another stage of my work, is that eventually I might have to take a ‘leap of faith’ and trust myself to ‘throw together’ my final conclusions as I come to them.  Yes, in the end, this forensic autobiographical work I am doing is destined to end in guesswork!

And yet the word GUESS is not a discouraging one:

1 : to form an opinion of from little or no evidence
2 : believe, suppose
3 : to arrive at a correct conclusion about by conjecture, chance, or intuition

I am carefully searching for what ‘evidence’ I CAN find.  From there I would be most pleased if I could ‘arrive at a correct conclusion’ about what happened to my mother that made her become a predatory mother, an extremely violent, aggressive and dangerous mother toward me – without regret, empathy or conscience – along with what happened to her to create such suffering and misery inside of herself.

To me, this process I am engaged in has merit and value because I believe that anything we can find out about what creates a ‘dis-ease’ has potential to help us find ways to prevent it, inoculate against it, curtail its ‘spread’, lessen suffering and perhaps even to cure it.

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