Sometimes when I prevent myself from acting out the way I want, I feel like I'm in the middle of a hurricane - the winds and rain trying to tear me apart.
Reiland writes about about two children warring inside her mind, one needing to be tough and strong, the other needing to be held and coddled, one decidedly male and one decidedly a little girl, with her adult self being trapped in the middle - sometimes able to intellectualize the battles of the children - sometimes being caught in the crossfire of their conflict.
Even when I was a teenager, I'd felt as if some part of me just stopped developing at a certain age, although I don't believe I was able to articulate it quite that well. It felt as if part of me just stopped growing and now I understand that, in a way, is the case. I understand now that my defense system for handling emotional pain is more akin to a child's - that all or nothing, black or white, good or evil belief system... the emotional instability and inability to deal with frustration...
Reiland also writes how despite hating being hospitalized, part of her also actually craved it for the escape from reality/responsibility it provided her. There have been numerous times when I wonder if I should have gone into the hospital. There are when I crave to escape from life, from the troubles, the responsibility. I want someone else to be responsible for me. And yet, I don't. I think I would want that release for a while, if I knew I would be able to re-enter the world afterwards.
Maybe that it is why I enjoy Dom/sub play. It provides that escape, albeit in a very focused scenario and for a very limited time. Even then I've found myself craving the release, the escape, that provides... so much so that perhaps I put too many demands on my former FwB despite our limited opportunities.
Reiland also writes about how she was raised with an inherent hatred of all things female... how she was raised to believe that women were weak, and frail, and manipulative... To some extent, I am able relate to that. For me as a child, things female were manipultive, vindictive, cruel, petty, spiteful and fickle. Part of this came from my family and part came from my "peers," if that is what you want to call those... My mom was the queen of passive-aggressive tough broads and the girls in my school - the ones on the inside of the cliques loved playing mind-games on the ones who weren't and the ones who weren't on the inside were so desperate to be on the inside that they'd backstab whoever else wasn't on the inside to look better to the cliques.
the boys just seemed to be the boys - yeah there were ones who weren't "as cool" as others, but they didn't seem to have employed the same psychological warfare as the girls did.
then again, at home, it seemed easier to be a boy... my parents didn't expect as much of my brother (from my young eyes) as they did from me. my brother did what he enjoyed and they were happy when he did well. he tried really hard in school and just couldn't get ahead. I barely tried at all and could get Bs, As if I applied myself a little. I was labelled a "gifted underachiever" and yet my parents never asked why I was underachieving... or if they tried, they asked the wrong questions to get the right answers.
I don't remember ever being really close to my father, and yet I recall feeling as if he suddenly withdrew from me... suddenly he seemed so distant... suddenly girls didn't do this or that... suddenly I wasn't Daddy's girl any more...
my mother and I were never really close... in fact, all through my life my mother has loved to recount how miserable a child I was... sometimes she would tell the stories jokingly, sometimes not... yet even when she was teasing, there was that sharp edge to her humor... Is it my fault I inherited her allergies? Is it my fault that she and I have different rH factors and blood types? Is it my fault that she smoked through my entire childhood affecting my development of allergies and asthma? Is it my fault that when I was two or three I was an obstinate or ornery child? I was only reflecting my environment.
My brother and I were talking once about growing up - his being five years older gives him a different perspective. He remembers the fights our parents had that I was too young to understand. In fact, I only remember the one fight and it was after we moved out of the apartment into the house in the country. My brother remembers so much more. Apparently, life wasn't tranquil... I was about to say "as my memory says..." but I don't remember those years. I have four memories from before I turned five and one of them was at the new house.
oh well, more on this later...
I've also been reading New Hope for People with Borderline Personality Disorder: Your Friendly, Authoritative Guide to the Latest in Traditional and Complementary Solutions by Neil R. Bockian, Nora Elizabeth Villagran, and Valerie Porr. It's an excellent book - the editorial reviews on Amazon don't do it enough justice.
Another book on my reading list has been Sometimes I Act Crazy: Living with Borderline Personality Disorder by Jerold J. Kreisman and Hal Straus. I liked it so much that I bought before I'd even read halfway through the copy I'd taken out of the library. One thing I really like about this book is that it details Action Steps for either the person with BPD or the family of said person to follow regarding specific trigger points for BPD.