So, I have been blogging about food for a few years now. It's not necessarily informative - more of a food porn/daily humor kind of blog. But, I now feel like I need an additional outlet for my pain, anger, frustration, helplessness and confusion. I really only talk to my husband and my sisters about my issues with my father, except for the rare occasions when I seemingly "corner" someone else and blab on and tell them too much about my dad, sometimes making them uncomfortable.
Thus, this blog is meant to be for people with similar experiences. Hopefully you will find me if you need to. Of course, this is very indulgent in that it's about me, but I'm hoping others will come forward and comment on this - and maybe I'll find likeminded bloggers who might want to cowrite this blog.
So, here's my background. I am a first american born Filipina, youngest of three daughters. My mom was an only child and wanted to be a nun when she was young, but her parents made her go to medical school so she could support them later in life, which she did.
My father was the youngest of seven in a matriarchal protestant family. He always felt like he had to be the most responsible, even though he was the youngest. The legend goes, that he lied about his age when he was a teenager, so he could start working earlier. So, whatever age his legal documents claim him to be are supposedly several years older than his actual age.
My mom used to love to tell the story about how she and my dad got together. Her friends wanted to set him up with one of their girlfriends. So, as was tradition back in the day, several of them were present at the first meeting. When my dad was asked what he thought of the girl who he was being set up with, he replied that she wore too much makeup and that he was more interested in my mom.
My mom also used to love to tell the story about how my dad "was not a handsome man". He did however, behave like a gentleman, and she could tell that he would be less likely to cheat on her than her previous boyfriend - maybe the love of her life. This other fellow was handsome and wealthy (or on the path to be wealthy) and also was to be a physician like my mom.
So, on my parents' wedding night, it was a shock to my mom when my dad yelled at her for the first time. And throughout their lives, it seemed like he barely ever stopped at times. She felt like she had made a mistake, but there was no divorce in the Philippines, annulments were hard to come by and embarrassing, and her upbringing compelled her to be a dutiful wife.
My mom passed away thirteen months ago at the age of 70, which was a major tragedy for our whole extended family. She had a hard life, 90% of it caused by her life with my dad. I am still grieving for her and her wasted time.
A couple months ago, I had the (mis)fortune of being pushed out of my job. Partially due to cracked management by the owners, and partially due to my unwillingness to bend to their every whim and work myself to death for being what I perceived as being underpaid, I was forced to quit. That story in itself could be another whole blog! What positive that came out of it, (and believe me, I am a very negative Nelly) was that I had time to recover from burnout and nurse my grief and explore my family dynamics.
I have spent countless hours on the internet since being unemployed researching. Researching anything. A question comes to mind, and I jump on my superfast beloved Macbook Pro. I'm not sure I've loved an inanimate object so much - but it's seemingly animate with how much it does for me!
So, I had been convinced that my dad was possibly schizophrenic. The delusions and break with reality, strange disjointed language, kind of seemed to fit my dad. I don't know how I came across a checklist for Borderline Personality Disorder in my online search, but unlike schizophrenia, it hit every nail on the head. I found list after list that fit my father's description to a tee. It was a revelation, a catharsis, a relief, and epiphany, a feeling of not being a crazy as I felt! The door of enlightenment openned, and there stood in glowing block letters, the words BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER!!!!
I'm not going to apologize for my feelings, and I'm not trivializing the disorder in any way. After all, I can only assume that you found this blog because you either know someone with BPD or you have it, or you want to learn more about it. If you personally have BPD or know someone who has it, then you understand this overwhelming feeling of enlightenment.
So, I've started reading books, Stop Walking On Eggshells: Taking Back Your Life When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder, and Surviving a Borderline Parent. And they've been immensely helpful. To let you in on how helpful, I had trouble with the title of the first book, because I felt like it didn't apply to me because I felt uncomfortable with the part "someone you care about". That's how strong my negative feelings towards my dad were, before reading this book. In my sick way of alleviating my pain over my horrible childhood and my strained and estranged relationship with my dad, I had a joke with my husband. He asked me if I hated my dad. I would say "I don't hate him" with an inflection on hate. It just has been difficult all my life to sort through my feelings for my dad as provider and authority and abuser - both physical and emotional. Whenever I had told my dad that I loved him, he always replied, don't say it unless you mean it. I don't ever recall him telling me, "I love you." Now, I just feel sorry for him, for carrying the undiagnosed burden of this personal hell of a personality disorder. Granted, I haven't seen him in over a year, but I will be seeing him in at the end of July.
I wanted to try to keep this first entry fairly brief, but look, I've gone on and on. I honestly am not affiliated with the authors, publishers or editors of the two books that I've mentioned above. I just have found them extremely helpful after years of wondering what was wrong with my dad, my mom and myself.
Thank you for reading.
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