So this is my first post. Obviously. I’ve been nervous about posting anything on here. Even though the internet is anonymous.
I came up with this blog name out of the blue in the car a few weeks ago, and it was so fitting. It combined my personal motto/theme song with my disorder.
Defying Gravity comes from the Broadway musical Wicked. I’ve been a huge fan of this musical since I was 18, but in the last year it’s come to mean so much more to me. So, so much more.
It all started with this line:
Too long I’ve been afraid of losing love I guess I’ve lost.
Well, if that’s love it comes at much too high a cost.
So, here’s why.
A year ago I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, as well as a panic disorder.
The past year I’ve been going through my ‘breakthrough crisis’ as it’s sometimes called- realizing and coming to terms with the fact that I was abused as a child.
My abuse was emotional and psychological- with a couple of few and far between moments of what would be considered physical abuse (this is something I don’t think I’ve quite faced yet… as I have a hard time saying this even in writing)
I was raised by my mother; she has Borderline Personality Disorder, with some narcissistic traits. Her mother, my grandmother, was also a huge presence in my life and I believe she has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, however she is undiagnosed.
My father wasn’t around much- my parents “legally divorced” when I was young, but they are for the most part practically still married, they do not act at all like a couple who has been divorced nearly 20 years. My father is a functioning alcoholic, and for all I know may have other issues. He is also still completely enmeshed with my mother, and very enabling. He has no boundaries with her.
Before I began seeing a therapist, I thought my father was to blame for most of my issues. Because he left when I was little, and I didn’t see him alone, and he’s an alcoholic.
While I have issues with him, sure, through therapy I began to see just how badly my mom’s behaviors and illness effected me. She’s the reason I have PTSD, not my dad.
Part of the reason I blamed (and at times, hated) my father was because my mom often split him black.
People with BPD see the world in black and white, all or nothing. Things are either “all good” or “all bad”. People with BPD think in extremes. It is difficult for them to hold opposing thoughts about themselves or others. When someone is seen as “all good” it’s referred to as being split or painted white. When someone is seen as “all bad” it’s referred to as being split or painted black. Obviously this comes from the cliche of white representing light/good/heaven etc, and black representing darkness/evil/hell etc.
An example, when my mom was trying to get back together with my dad she would often defend him, and go on about what a good father/person he is, and point out all the positive aspects of him. Then when things inevitably went wrong, she’d immediately call him awful names, that he’s a drunk, a terrible father who doesn’t even care about his children or her, that he’s a cruel evil man.
She just cannot grasp the concept that my dad in some ways is a good person, but he has his flaws too.
So, yes, when she split him black, these are the kinds of things she’d tell me. Over and over. She basically brainwashed me against my dad. Thus, I thought my dad leaving was to blame for my anxiety.
I never realized the role my mom played until I began therapy, and she was diagnosed with BPD.
I suppose I’ll leave the rest of this story for my next post.
defying ptsd 