Kangaroo Girl

A quick early morning ramble on BPD and family trauma.

Hello darlings,

A little bit of a more serious, abstract, philosophizing post today; just because this topic has been on my mind. And-- as a lot of you, my dedicated 10-or-so ride or dies, know-- I always say I don't "make" myself write, I just wait until my brain starts writing and then I grab a pen (or laptop).

So-- I was cleaning my carpet and my brain started writing this without consulting me first, although I'm not mad about it. That's what a blog is for, right? But as a warning, this will be very much word vomit, because I only have a few minutes before my "real" work begins...

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Anyways. I've been thinking a lot about generational trauma lately, family systems, the intricacies of how things interlock and weave together in ways that really can't be pulled apart: not just for lack of time or energy, but because these tangles in some way keep us (us, meaning the unit, family, community, ancestry, humanity, the universe...) WHAT WE ARE. A delicate spiderweb that crumbles in your fingers when you try to study it.

Frustrating, but beautiful in its own way. Shreya, I know you'll read this, and I feel so much like you right now. I can hear your voice in my writing; even as I'm typing this I hear your voice narrating these words and not mine.

How does this relate to Borderline Personality Disorder? I read a book on it when I was 19, when I first got diagnosed- scary at the time, still scary, considering the discourse about "valid" diagnoses which made me feel like an imposter peering through a window at this book I wasn't "supposed" to relate to because I wasn't "sick enough"- and one thing always stuck with me.

The author discussed the idea of "borderline systems" among family members. That a family can be in itself a Borderline Orbit (my words, not his), this spiraling ouroboric chasm drawing everyone in and keeping them sick, not out of outright malice but all, all, always out of fear and shame like everything is, apparently.

I'm thinking of: Richard Siken, imagine a world where everyone has their back against the wall.

I'm thinking of: Narcissistic Personality Disorder, rooted not in anger but in self-loathing.

I'm thinking of: ouroboros. A great word for this.

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So. Borderline Systems. Not to be confused with a family of BPD diagnoses; this is not an indictment that any family with one BPD member will be composed of individuals who all meet ALL of the criteria of BPD. No.

But the family as a whole can be borderline. I'm thinking of: borderline not as an identity but as a trait, a characteristic. To "be borderline". To "act in a borderline manner". To, like anthropology would say, "exist in a borderline culture". A way to bridge that chasm of GENETICS + PARENTAL CULPABILITY + PREDISPOSITION + GENERATIONAL TRAUMA + EMPATHY + COMPASSION + ANGER + BETRAYAL + SHAME + DOUBT + OUROBOROS.

Mom hurts your feelings. You cry, feel anger, feel shame, feel so much emotion you explode. You scare Mom, hurt her back. She cries. You're overwhelmed with even more guilt.

She, separate from you, hurts your feelings because she too does not have the emotional regulation skills to cope with the intensity of her feelings. She cries because her emotions have taken over; she feels so much pain she can't conceptualize the pain you are feeling because all she can see/feel is her own wounds. So do you. You feel betrayed. Why doesn't she see how much you're hurting? She, on the other side, feels the same way.

A BPD "system" idea accounts for the conflict so many people struggle with when confronting family trauma. I consider it very powerful.

I love you. I still can't believe you didn't know better than to do what you did to me. I still can't believe what your dad did to you. Grandma told me a story about what she was like growing up and I wanted to cry. Not because it was so bad but because I felt too much. Why is everyone in our family like this? You raised me to hate myself for doubting you and that's not fair. But what if I'm a bad daughter. But what if I'm not. But what if I am?

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People talk about BPD patients going into "remission". It isn't a life sentence; it's a list of criteria. If you don't meet the criteria, do you still have BPD? It's a complicated, Schrodinger question... I like the idea of remission. Yes and no. Something to look out for, to adapt to in your day-to-day life, but perhaps "BPD-recovered" or something like that. But that's a problem for later. I'm definitely not there yet.

So, list of criteria, what if no individual person fits that criteria but the family as a whole does? A family system that becomes a time capsule with its own gravitational pull; people who can go from totally reasonable and functional with their coworkers and best friends to fearful, fragile, and frenetic when they go home for Thanksgiving.

I'm running out of time. But, for a tangible ending: what if we treated family issues- Borderline Systems- the way we treat BPD in individuals? Maybe people do this already; I'm not a family therapist, just standing on a soapbox like possibly the village idiot talking about things I know nothing about.

BPD systems- like individuals- struggle with emotion regulation, don't have the emotional awareness or emotional literacy to determine how close they are to a crisis state. BPD systems can-- as I said-- go from entirely loving and safe and wonderful to a Nightmare Realm in an instant.

And that makes sense. That's what BPD is rooted in: unpredictability. Defense against it. Control, protection, fear. Fight/flight/freeze/fawn. Unpredictability is scary as fuck. For everyone. It spreads like a disease, builds and builds and builds like water filling a bathtub till it overflows; everyone is scared in the family unit, and it builds. Back to the wall. Ouroboros. What will happen next? How do we keep this "safety" going- and of course it isn't real safety anyway, no one ever feels safe in an "unpredictable" environment. Gotta stay on your toes.

So how do we decrease that crisis state? Reach out earlier, in 1-5 and not 6-10? Mom loves you and is kind, except for when she isn't. I can't judge her; I'm drinking too much and not eating enough and thinking, I'm doing better, until I'm not, which is how it always goes. Dad is understanding, until something scares him-- you're going out with a boy, you're growing up- and now he isn't understanding anymore.

It can't be all or nothing. That in itself is borderline. You can't say Mom isn't kind; it overwhelms you with guilt (partially: it shouldn't be that much guilt. Borderline family system. Need to unpack that. Also: normal human reaction. My mom deserves the world.) You can't say Mom is always kind.

Ok, I really gotta go. But maybe we all have our backs to the wall; maybe, like me, everything is okay until it isn't. I get desperate too. I'm responsible until I'm not.

Still figuring it out, obv. This sounds like super pretentious hipster psychodrama bullshit, but oh well and I wrote it in like 20 minutes so. Off to my "real" big girl saving-the-world work.

Hugs and hexes,

Lee (ooh, new name, need to post about that)