The box kite

In my second year of art school I had to take a 3d Modeling class. For our final project we were tasked with building a kite. We each picked what type of kite we wanted to build. From the start I felt overwhelmed. I went to a hardware store to purchase dowels, tubing, wood glue and string. I used garbage bags which I measured, cut and used to build a box kite. I painted it and the next week the class met at the beach. My kite had to fly in order to get a good grade for that project. Nobody had tested their kites up until this point. I was skeptical and doubtful. Suddenly, was time to fly my kite. One person held the kite as I ran full speed down the beach away from them. I turned and watched as my kite that I had built all on my own started to take flight. I was in disbelief as it soared into the sky. All that hard work paid off and I was so proud. Why had I ever doubted myself? 

It's easier to say "I can't" and never try than to say "I can" and put in the work. If you never try, you won't realize what you're truly capable of achieving. 

I passed the class. 

My Borderline Mother

People will let you down in life. Having your parents let you down is probably the worst of all of them. My father was an alcoholic and a convicted sex offender. He also was a huge racist and at age 16 he told me that if he ever caught me dating outside my race...he would put a bullet though the middle of my forehead. My Borderline mother did not have it in her to be a mother who was there emotionally. I could sit and talk to you about heartache and pain all day long my dear friends. It's the hand that some of us are dealt. It doesn't make me any more of less of a person than those who haven't experienced it. It just makes me a bit more in tune with the feelings of others. 

Foolishly over the years I kept hoping that one day magically my parents would change. That they would be the parents I needed them to be. For my father that change never happened...and he passed away. I never felt safe with either of them. I grew up on edge and walking on eggshells. I would find myself instinctively "tip-toeing" around the house as not to wake my mother. Waking her would mean enduring whatever emotional abuse or anxiety was being served up that day. 

A child needs to be nurtured and feel safe. My needs were not met and I endured emotional and sexual abuse and this has caused my mental illness and trauma related reactions. To this day, I know I can seem needy at times.  It comes from a good place...really. 

My psychiatrist wouldn't like me saying this, but I'm a hard person to love. Borderlines can seem emotionally flat at times. Then like flipping a switch over emotional. What I do know is that I am NOT my mother. I have worked to undo the damage and I'm a survivor. I have made a lot of progress. I will continue to do the work. 

I have spent the last 13 years avoiding and living far away from my mother. Why am I trying to forge a relationship with her now? They say you have to let go of the past, but the past is still very much the present.

In the end all I really want is to be loved. Loved by someone who accepts that I have lived this life and gets me. Someone who is a lighthouse on my dark horizon. 

Facing the future alone.

My mother received some concerning news about her health. She may need risky surgery. I feel that I'm hyper sensitive now about these things due to my father's passing. Maybe before I wouldn't be so worried. 

She's said she is worried about dying and me not having anyone. See, I decided I didn't want to have kids. I mean I am mentally ill and it wouldn't be right to have a child and repeat the vicious cycle (my mother is mentally ill as well, as was my grandmother). I had genetic testing which also revealed I carry genetic mutations for schizophrenia, ADHD, OCD (my grandmother was OCD) and other mental illnesses. How could I live with myself passing that onto a child? Also, I'm estranged from my family. So, that leaves me...alone. 

The reality is I've been alone most of my life. My alcoholic father and mentally ill mother weren't there for me. They didn't nurture or protect me. I took care of myself the best that I could. I didn't even learn the basic things people are taught to take care of themselves and their homes...my exes taught me those things over the years. It's still embarrassing for me to admit that to others. Honestly, my exes taught me more than my parents ever did. Why? Because they had responsible parents who didn't have addictions or mental illness. 

Admittedly, the thought used to bother me a lot. I have accepted my fate though. I may be the old woman in the nursing home that nobody visits. It's the path I have chosen out of necessity. I will have face it eventually. 

"Lost but now I am found

I can see but once I was blind

I was so confused as a little child

Tried to take what I could get

Scared that I couldn't find

All the answers, honey."

- Lana Del Rey, Born to Die 

Living for today and enjoying the moment.

"Just walk on by, wait on the corner
I love you but we're strangers when we meet." - Charley Pride. 

I grew up with my grandmother playing Charley Pride records. When I was young she would put one on, grab my hands, say "dance with me weetzen" and whirl me around the room. In case you're wondering "weetzen" meant "sweet thing" but somehow in her country kind of slang way. Yeah...it doesn't make sense to me either, but it did to her. Needless to say, whenever I hear a Charlie Pride song I think of her. 

She loved to laugh and overall was loud, boistrous and just didn't care what people thought. She was an individual. Her sense of humor was a bit off the wall. We loved watching Married with Children and would laugh so hard at Al Bundy's misfortunes. We also watched shows like Amen (she adored Sherman Hemsley) and The Andy Griffith Show. When Andy Griffith passed I thought of my grandmother. She enjoyed life and she never met a stranger. She was a loyal friend to those she cared deeply for. My grandmother lived life with a smile, a laugh and enjoyed the little things. To her, life was an adventure. 

She passed away over 15 years ago. Over the years I keep finding her though. She's with me in every Charley Pride song...every show we watched together...I can still hear her laugh. 

Al-Anon: Support for friends and family of alcoholics

I wanted to bring awareness to the fact that there is a support group called Al-Anon. It is to provide guidance for friends and families of alcoholics. I'm sure many are aware of Alcoholics Anonymous for the alcoholic, but maybe not Al-Anon.

 

Created 16 years after Alcoholics Anonymous and co-founded by Lois W. (the wife of AA founder, Bill W.) and Anne B. The purpose of Al-Anon is to provide support for friends and family of alcoholics. Members are invited to share their stories of how they have been affected by someone else's drinking. Al-Anon is made up of spouses, parents, children, siblings, friends, employers and coworkers of alcoholics.

 

Find more information on Al-Anon here.

Random thoughts about my sobriety

I guess you could say that alcoholism feels like a close friend...it feels like home. My father, father's uncle, maternal grandfather, maternal grandmother and mother's uncles were alcoholics. Both sides of my family had their share of issues. It would make sense that I too would have my share of problems with it...genetic predisposition. Alcoholism was a familiar friend that was always hanging around me. My father's best friend owned the local bar and, at age 9, he would take me to the bar. I would sit at the bar drinking Cokes and watching him "pool shark" guys. He was an excellent pool player and it was a quick way to get money for alcohol. Then he would drive home drunk with me in the car. Life with my father was going from one wild house party to the next. Eventually, my father started letting me drink at age 13. This was because his drinking buddy had a 14 year old daughter and he allowed her to drink. His friends thought it was cute to have me light their cigarettes for them and I became hooked on those as well. I even ended up getting caught with a pack at school in 8th grade.
 

Without going into a long story let's just say that I fought it and overcame my demons. I remember how as selfish as it sounds, my friends did not want me to quit. Suddenly, the sober me felt like my friends and I didn't have much in common. It was a strange feeling and I didn't feel like myself... alcohol had been a part of my identity. It was my comfort and a friend I could count on when I felt pain. I ended up having to end friendships and learn to cope with my emotions rather than drink them away. One of the last conversations that validated I had to move on was when a friend asked "come on, you cant have just one?' "NO! Don't you understand?? I'm an alcoholic and I cant drink anymore!" I yelled.
 

How am I today? With years of sobriety under my belt, I finally have enough self control that I can be the sober person at the party. I can be the sober friend who is around others who are drinking. It's funny sometimes because people who know my story often feel awkward drinking around me. I tell them to relax because I am fine. Believe me if I wasn't, I would remove myself from the situation.



They want a girl they can lie to.

Funny thing...

When guys try to stretch the truth I question it. I tap into my extensive worldly knowledge that I have somehow acquired in my lifetime. 

They respond: "jeez there's no fooling you, you are too smart!!"

Then they do not want to date me because I am "too smart." They want a girl they can lie to. One who will believe the hype. 

I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself.

- Simone de Beauvoir

Relentless

Dyslexia: My father's story.

I wanted to write about challenges that we face in our daily lives. Some people face daily challenges in life that others can't see and don't know exist. For example let's talk about my father. See, he was dyslexic and, as a result, never learned how to read. 

My father grew up in a time where dyslexia was not well known. Often struggling in school he was made fun of and called stupid by his peers. The teachers said he was a slow learner. Eventually, the frustration and humiliation was too much for him. He ended up dropping out of school in the 8th grade. 

My father became an adult and eventually discovered that he wasn't a "slow learner." He was diagnosed with dyslexia. See, dyslexia does not mean low intelligence. Some of the most brilliant minds are believed to have had dyslexia such as Winston Churchill, Alexander Graham Bell, John Lennon, Thomas Edison and Albert Einstein. Although my father learned later in life that he was dyslexic, it was too late for him. He never learned how to read. Dyslexia is called a "unique and gifted mindset" in which the dyslexic learns different than others. 

My father lived around his dyslexia. Only close family knew his secret. I didn't even learn about it until around age 10. Even back then I couldn't fully comprehend the challenges he faced. My mother would read his bills to him. He would ask me for assistance as well. Over the years he would ask me how to spell words like "water." I remember as a child I would give him a birthday card. He would open it up and pretend to read it then smile and say "that's nice honey." After I learned this, I watched him repeat this routine with others who weren't aware that he couldn't read. I remember one time we were at a friend's house. Someone handed him a Christmas card. He proceeded to open the card and someone yelled "read it out loud!" I sprang up from the couch I was sitting on and said "I'll read it" and grabbed the card from him. I read it out loud for all of them to hear and they were none the wiser. 

My father's dyslexia actually gave him an uncanny ability to solve puzzles. It's proven that people who are dyslexic have this ability. Rubik's Cube was no match for my father. I remember how as a child I would get mad that he could solve puzzles so fast. I had received an electronic puzzle game for Christmas only to find out the next day that he had already beaten the game. Dyslexic people are known to be masters of their crafts. This too was true in that my father was known as an excellent mechanic. Definitely above average in his work. 

My father faced daily challenges. Have you ever thought about the pictures at fast food drive thrus? A picture of a hamburger and fries with a number at the top..."I'll have a number 1 please." That is a language that even people like my father could understand. He couldn't read, but could look at the pictures and communicate what he wanted. 

I had genetic testing done some time ago. I carry the genetic mutation for dyslexia. Dyslexia runs in families. In my case however, the gene did not "kick in" and I am not dyslexic, but have dyscalculia instead. 

When my father became terminally ill I went to see him. I overheard someone complaining about his cell phone and walked over to them. "I can't contact anyone! Your father doesn't put peoples names in his phone...only their numbers...he MEMORIZES the numbers." I laughed silently to myself at her frustration. "That's my father" I replied. 

Don't let life pass you by.

I've got a war in my mind.

People like myself with BPD to get overwhelmed and discouraged more easily than the average person. We are emotionally unstable and feel anger and sadness more intensly than most. You may feel anger in a situation and the borderline instead will feel rage. We are very "black and white" type of personalities. All or nothing and no middle ground, no grey area in between. As a person with BPD I face daily challenges that aren't obvious. As Lana Del Rey says in her song Ride "Been trying hard not to get into trouble, but I've got a war in my mind." My behavior may seem strange at times on what I call my "bad days." I find that feeling extremely stressed triggers me. Change triggers me as well. I become highly irritable and short tempered or maybe I will do what I call "hibernating" and become antisocial. It's a toss up. You never know what you're gonna get. It's that unpredictable, impulsiveness that makes it hard to try and understand the Borderline. 

Time will heal you.

Why would you stay in a situation where you are not happy? Why would you choose to exist rather than live?

Don't wake up one day and realize that you wasted years of your life. Don't stay in a relationship with someone who doesn't care about your well being. You deserve to be happy. Change is hard and it's scary...believe me I know. It's difficult to imagine life being alone again and doing things by yourself. There may be tears and you will feel overwhelmed at first. Once you rip the band aid off things will get better. Time will heal you and you will discover yourself again.