What Borderlines Are Capable Of

Codependency is our kryptonite.

I grew up in an extreme household. My father had two ways of expressing himself. The cold shoulder and extreme rage. Not just losing your temper, but absolute "rage". Uncontrollable anger that causes extreme anxiety and fear. I firmly believe now that my dad was BPD. We learn from an early age how to react to BPD behaviors. We're programmed to behave in a way that diffuses the situation. To remove the conflict by sacrificing ourselves, our values, our dignity. We become slaves to the rage.

I remember as early as the age of four, having empty beer bottles thrown at my head as my mother and I held each other in fear on the bed. My father was drunk, which was the norm, not living in reality at that moment. Lost in childhood pain and lashing out. He was primal, child rage.

I remember being awake late at night when he would come home drunk. I remember the deep feeling of terror in the pit of my stomach as I dared to look out a crack in my door. I would see my mother begging for leniency as my father beat her relentlessly. Vivid memories of my mother getting shoved against the wall pleading, begging, terrified.

I remember the lifetime of emotional abuse. I remember my family having to walk on eggshells to cater to my father's every whim. We couldn't be too loud or we would disturb him while he watched TV. We couldn't get any food from the kitchen or we would make a mess, regardless if we were starving.

I remember being quite familiar with the sting from a belt. I would get beaten for trivial things. I would get beaten for getting sick and throwing up on my bed. The most vivid memory of this was when I was fifteen. I was playing around with my brother outside at dusk. I got into a serious accident and shattered my lower teeth, severed my gum line. It was a serious injury that required I go to the hospital immediately. I was losing a lot of blood. I was in shock and pain. My father was on the couch watching TV as usual. I snuck into the bathroom to check my injuries, too afraid to tell my father, thinking maybe I could cover it up and pretend it didn't happen. My brother, afraid too, walked into the house and said "Shawn hurt himself" and promptly ran away to his friend's house. What happened next I will never forget.

My mom walks in the bathroom and loses it, screaming. She can see how terribly I'm injured. My father walks in and beats the living hell out of me. Not just a slap or two. I was punched, kicked, stomped, shoved violently into the bathtub. Then I was taken to the hospital where I had my mouth sown back together. I remember the constant feeling of terror in the pit of my stomach......

Growing up with a Borderline Parent trains us for when we become involved in a relationship with one. It takes years of programming. The first step to leaving a relationship with a Borderline is self examination. Understanding why you put up with so much abuse for so little for so long. Why you would jump over mountains for that little scrap of affection that was so prevalent in the beginning to hook you in. What made you codependent? That is the question ...