All my past relationships have one thing in common, BPD. I didn’t know at the time what was the cause of the drama and the problems I would find myself confronted with over and over. I’m using the term relationship very loosely because BPD seriously disrupted every single relationship I’ve ever encountered. From an ex-husband to the same cashier at the grocery, or my mother. Fortunately I met the right people at the right time to get some help trying to stabilize my relationships and answer the questions that I wasn’t sure I even had.

My most tumultuous relationship would be that with my mother. When we lived together after my parent’s divorce, it was eggshells. There were times I felt like the parent, the therapist, the caregiver. I felt responsible for her happiness and suffering. I knew she struggled raising me alone. Hormones and depression are just an excuse for the way I acted at times. Violent outbursts, temper tantrums. Even now, an adult with my own children, she still brings up how bad it was to raise me. Let’s me know any time I mention my children being loud, stubborn, defiant, that they are just like me.

Once I moved to my dad’s house at 16, our relationship became much better. I no longer had that weight over me. I wasn’t a burden on her financially or emotionally. We became friends to an extent and I would call her daily. I enjoyed going to visit her when I could on long weekends. Slowly over the years the distance had emerged. Whether it was from my previous marriage, the subsequent divorce, my children, or the strained relationships between other family members, I can’t really say. I didn’t even call her for her birthday this year. I keep trying to tell myself that she probably doesn’t even remember it was her birthday or that I didn’t call.

It’s sobering to look back on some memories and realize how different so many things in our relationships would have been if I’d had the skills I have now to process life then. Though I still haven’t come to a conclusion on which extreme was the better of two evils. There was angry, violent me, then there was withdrawn, complacent, docile me. Both were depressed, both hurt myself and anyone close. I still struggle everyday to not slip the tightrope to one extreme or the other. Mindfulness has been the best skill for my intense moods. It keeps me on the right path, even if I stray, it’s always there to bring me back.