May 31st entry on Face-The-Facts.net

My mom and I have been at odds with each other since January. I simple stood up for myself and stood my ground. She couldn't handle not being able to control me anymore, so she told me to just stay away for awhile. Then she used every excuse to send me hateful letters, and leave rageful messages on my voice mail. But I've been ignoring her, and lately it's been peaceful. I've been enjoying the peace and quiet, having all my time to myself and enjoying my boyfriend because I don't have to be at her beck and call anymore. But there's still a part of me that feels uncertain and guilty.

From reading many of the posts here, I feel that I wasn’t abused as severely as quite a lot of you all. There was no physical abuse to speak of, certainly no sexual abuse, and my suspected, but undiagnosed BPD mother was not neglectful, addictive, self-destructive, severely depressed, or even ill very often. In fact, she seemed like a high-energy, responsible, take-charge kind of person throughout most my childhood. But our home was frequently filled with tension due to my parents fighting. And I was very timid growing up, because I remember being yelled at for being careless, clumsy, forgetful, selfish, or lazy. I remember being told I was fat for sneaking cookies from the cookie drawer. I remember when I was 10, my mom was upset with me all day long about something, I forget what. And that evening as soon as my dad came through the door, she wailed at him right in front of me something like, "I don't know what I'm going to do with her. She always acts like such a child!" My dad responded with, "Well, I should hope she acts like a child. She's only ten.", which only elicited more emotional outbursts from her. Its hard to remember a lot, because it seems like I've blocked a lot out, but I do remember being mostly afraid.

I remember that I really had to watch what I said to others outside the family, because if it was viewed as inappropriate by mom, she'd make sure I'd pay for it later. I remember in fifth grade we were given an assignment to read a story and answer questions at the end. One of the questions said, "Give examples of people you know who have behaved the same way as the character in the story." I don't really remember the story, but I think it had to do with someone convinced that he was right, and expected others to take on his viewpoint. Well, of course, the examples I gave were of my family, because as timid as I was, I didn't really have many friends. Not to mention, my parents provided ample material for that sort of thing. So I gave examples of my dad yelling at my mom for having too many shoes or yelling at other drivers while on the road. I don't remember saying anything negative about my mom. I either blocked that out, or was either too smart or too enmeshed at the time to write anything negative about her. Anyway, the teacher gave me a good grade on the assignment and wrote, "Great Examples" on my paper. I didn't take it home and show it to my mom, but she somehow found it in my bookbag several weeks later and had a fit. She made me go to my teacher and tell her the stories I wrote weren't true.

My dad recently told me that he remembers teaching me to drive a stickshift when I was 16. He said that he and I got up early and went to a secluded parking lot to teach me how to shift gears. I vaguely remember this, but I thought for sure that I never learned how to drive a stickshift, because it was too hard for me. But he swore up and down that he actually did teach me how to do it, and I drove us home and drove the car in the driveway that day. At that point, according to my dad, my mom came out and was hopping mad because he took me out to drive, saying "There's no way she could possibly learn how to drive a stick shift, she doesn't need to anyway...blah blah blah." I really don't remember for sure. Does my dad have it wrong, or do I?? I guess this is what happens when you grew up in a house with a borderline who insisted that their version of reality is the truth, and everyone else is either crazy, mixed-up, or just wasn't paying attention.

All of this stuff is forgivable. I haven't had kids yet myself, but I'm sure it's hard sometimes to raise kids. There's a lot of pressure, especially if your marriage isn't going well. And it wasn't as if she was 100% ogre all the time. There were good times and fond family memories as well.

What's hard to take though, is that even though I'm in my forties, she still wants to control, criticize, find fault with people I care about, insinuate, blame and guilt trip me whenever she feels threatened by my adulthood and independence. The only way I can see being able to live life on my terms and feel good about myself is to continue the NC. Yet because she's elderly, and I'm her only daughter, I know it's probably expected by other family members that I should stay close to her and be her caregiver in her final days. Does anyone else feel guilty about NC??