The most recent 20 comments posted to Making Light by Anonymous Coward:

xiaoren #29:

Like most borderlines, she refuses to consider the possibility that there's anything wrong with her, and even the most gentle suggestions that she might be able to stop making herself so unhappy if she were to talk to a professional about, tend to be received as a vicious personal attack.

Yes. She's not the one with the problem, everyone else is, and why does everyone hate her so much? Not to mention the sudden mood reversals and random ultimatums, and the way you can never believe anything she says because as soon as you start to trust it, she'll deny ever saying it, and.... (In my case, at least, she was also passive-aggressive and manipulative, and I'm not sure whether that's related to the borderline thing or just bad luck. On the bright side, I consider myself pretty much immune to guilt trips by now, having grown up around so many of them and learned that even going along with them results in getting yelled at, so what's the point?)

Yeah.

Unfortunately, my father didn't get to the point you did of figuring out just what was wrong with my mother until after my sister and I had both moved out.

I basically haven't spoken with my mother in over ten years, and I like it that way, thanks. I wouldn't say I hate her, still, but most of the time it's like I forget she even exists.

(Regular poster, choosing anonymity)

Just checked a source from the largest medical supply distributor in the US. They have three base assemblies for collection kits that are then customized at the distribution centers into customer specific SKU's.

I'm sure there are kits available elsewhere, but it aligns pretty closely with Jim's point.

Thank you so much for everyone's sharing. This has been a very enlightening thread and I've found a lot of solace.

My own story is one of lack. Most of my memories of childhood are of me amusing myself or my parents finding ways of encouraging that. Instead of throwing around a ball with me, they went to a garage sale and got one of those pitching practice nets that bounce the ball back. Rather than have to read my favorite story to me over and over, they attempted to record it on tape so I could play it back whenever I wanted. In fact, when my parents got divorced, my real struggle was whether I could stand to leave the house I grew up in or not, because that's where my real attachment was. It came down to who could afford to help me with college. Even then, I still hear about how they paid my way even though I got nearly a full-ride at a private institution (which had to be, of course, that we were poor and nothing to do with my 4.0, National Merit Scholarship, or band and drama activities).

But then there's the pieces that start to look odd years later, with perspective. Like, why did dad have two cans of ether in the cabinet we inherited from Grandpa? How exactly did I get a bilateral skull fracture as a baby and why wasn't there more to-do about the cousin who supposedly dropped me? Why was I told that it was rude to invite myself over to a friend's house when I was asking if I could come over to play?

Truth is, I won't know. My Grandma taught my dad how to keep secrets, and Grandma only told her doctor about her failing kidneys until she was two weeks away from the grave. Near as I can figure, our family poison is something along the lines of deep narcissism as a protection from having to face that there is no such thing as a perfect human being. It's weird. They say they're really proud of me, but give no support or encouragement to pursue what I love, or anything at all.

Anonymous three@194 "Sometimes, feeling empowered but guilty is less terrifying than feeling innocent but powerless."

Thank you. That hit me like a ton of bricks. A friend of mine died from Reye's Syndrome at 17, and I had noticed the night before she was taking a ton of aspirin. That, coupled with a much longer story I don't feel quite comfortable sharing, has always held a little space in the back of my mind that said maybe, just maybe, I could have done or said something to prevent it. But that's not the truth, and it's good to be reminded of that.

As for forgiveness, I go back and forth. Especially when dealing with narcissists, getting any kind of acknowledgement or reaction to past harms is futility defined. Expecting that they will at some point only keeps me unhappy. Emotionally, I'd like some sort of revenge, but intellectually and spiritually I know that there's not really anything that could happen that would make up for it. I tried that once with an old boss. I had worked at a movie theatre I despised and long after I had quit, I found myself on screen. I called back to let him know to look for me there on his screen. It felt great for a total of about 5 minutes. Afterwards, it seemed pretty pointless and still didn't make up for being talked down to or smacked upside the head (gently, but unprofessional and possibly illegal nonetheless). In the end the forgiveness for me has nothing to do with the other person and is more about breaking the rage cycle that was driving me batty, very similar to what Xopher was talking about.

Forgive never meant forget though. Now that I'm healthy enough to have new boundaries, I try to maintain them with Marine-like vigilance.

"Two paths diverged in a wood, and I-
I rode my bike off the path
That was awesome!"

--Robert Fire

This is entirely too much fun. Can someone help me figure out where irony ends and sincerity begins?

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