Going, Going, Gone...

Been fighting this battle for a couple weeks, ya know? I hate that the
internet (or any medium where you don't see a face or hear a voice)
doesn't allow you to know it's not a 'whine', but rather an
acknowledgement of shittiness run amok. Anyway, the battle's being
fought and I'm running out of steam.

I hate.

I hate that people don't understand. I hate that they don't ask.

I hate that kids are self-centered, and I hate that I forget it's
the nature of the beast. Mine are better than 90%.

I hate that my kid wants to go away to school and I hate that I can't
cope with it. I hate that he doesn't understand.

I hate that all the tools in the world only last a few hours and then
I have to start over.

I hate that a girl has had more influence in a year than I had in 17.

I hate that I've allowed myself to become so immersed in his life that
I have none of my own, to the exclusion of making friends and
developing a social life in a new country/state/city.

I hate that I second~guess every single thought I have as being a
BPD-related process of some sort. FUCK IT. Fuck it all. Fuck BPD and
it's little dog, too. Fuck my little dog who insists on digging in the
damned mud all the time.

And fuck the little girl who took a perfectly reasonable young man and
molded his mind with her tits and lips faster than I could say,
"ESTROGEN SHIELD, BOY".... because now she's got him, hook, line
and sinker, and the relationship is headed for the ugliest disaster you
can imagine (oh just trust me on this one) and I can't stop it, or
even try, because you know what it's like to pull the rope on a donkey.

I'm fighting to stay sane and REASONABLE to help my child make
informed choices about his future; the stickler here? He doesn't WANT
my help. He's gotten all the help he needs from the pussy holding his
leash and she's persuaded him that all he wants from life is to go
'away' to college~~to get the "whole college experience"~~that in
order to get a decent education he absolutely, positively MUST get
away from me and get to where he's paying a huge amount of
money and amass extraordinary debt rather than live at home and save some.
And despite 17 years of me THINKING that I had taught him about family and
responsibility and accountability, it took her a frighteningly short time
to persuade him that he owes his family absolutely NOTHING for being
part of the closely-knit group that we've been for 22 years.

We WERE close; I coached their soccer teams, I went to their
parent-teacher conferences; (ALONE) I went to the playdays to watch them
compete, and the carnivals and the music festivals. I made the damned
cupcakes and bought the damned juice boxes. I fought tooth and nail
for sole custody for two years and lost nearly all else because I knew
what it was that was of value: their lives. And I won. I continued it
through high school with the support of every sport he professed
interest in, every class trip he needed help with, anywhere he needed
to be, or do. I talked...made sure I was one of those who was "in
tune" with the kids because that way, you always knew what was going
on and so did they. My kids were educated about sex, drugs, alcohol
and smoking and were free to ask questions. Ahhh, the chest
POSITIVELY puffs out with pride at it all.

Oh yes, I expected chores and respect and curfews. That was all part
and parcel of the whole old-fashioned, "back in the day" family thing!
Yes, Yes, Yes! And there again comes the problem: a child has no
obligation to do chores! He's an adult! He shouldn't have to help in
order for me to give him spending money! My head positively reels.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN!

I lost my child. He's here, and we speak, but it's like talking to a
stranger. He looks at me as if I suddenly got old. Last year I was
still "cool". My jokes were still funny. Now I don't know who he is or
how I'm going to get through the next year.

Lets see~~how can we make this worse, shall we? Ah, lets add in the
abandonment that plagues me when I leave ANY of my kids, and the fact
that my social life (admittedly MY fault) revolves around his sports
practices) and once he leaves, I'll be friendless here with the
exception of my husband. But I mustn't hold him back! No no no, he and
his 4.3 GPA must get hence to a better school because...you can't
POSSIBLY get a good enough education in the same town where you LIVE.
It's not what you put into it! It's all about the name of the SCHOOL.

Choices, choices, choices. I can hear *M* saying it now, but it's a
stark comfort at the moment while my heart feels brittle and my blood
pressure is skyrocketing.

RAGE~~aren't you glad you don't live here?

Day One: An Introduction and A Rant!

So this is it. Number one. Should I feel some sort of labor pain? Is producing a blog supposed to be a wondrous experience, a fulfilling catharsis or just a time-killer? Ah, we shall see!

As a heads-up, I'm computer illiterate. You'll no doubt see the blogspot links at the left telling me how to replace them with my own for WEEKS before I get around to doing it. Maybe I'm just lazy. Wait! NO! I'm...I'm...I'm....BPD. I have an excuse. Life is good.

People tell me to blog. My therapist tells me to write. My husband tells me to journal. SO, here we are. I'm nothing if not impressionable. But aren't we all?

While I'm ranting and raving, and believe me, there will be a good portion of that, I will attempt to answer any questions on BPD you may have on it's many joys and mysteries. Can ya just SENSE the sarcasm here? Can ya? And I will make an effort to get my links up in a timely fashion. Go ahead. Start a pool of some sort.

So....Here's to happy blogging!