Anita,

Thank you for your response. It is shocking how our mothers are similar. I had some time to think about the Paranoid personality disorder (PPD). I knew she assumed the worst of me and of other people. We even wrote about this here, on forum. Reading about this disorder made me see how sick she is. So many times I tried to convince her people do not mean that. She sometimes imitated this but it was much worse because I could see she was faking it. So many times she took one small detail, analyzed it for days, weeks, years and build a whole new story around it. Now I cannot tell for sure whether people disrespect me or mean well – most times I am confused.

like your mother, my mother – as an adult – was mostly a wounded child, focused on her pain and seeing NONE of mine

Once my mother said to her mother (my grandma) that “Mother is supposed to do parties and Christmas for her children!” (grandma never did) – shows how delusional my mother is. She hardly ever made me a party or Christmas! I was sitting there listening when she said this. How ridiculous.

I forgot to mention Histrionic Personality Disorder (HPD)

I read about it some time ago. I watched this tv show, “Sharp Objects” with Amy Adams – that was interesting. I saw a lot of my mother’s behavior there. She fits some of the descriptions but I am not sure if this is enough.

I was always ashamed how she was showing off in front of men. Behaved differently, joked, smiled, talked weird, so fun and talkative. Embarrassing. Grandma is the same.

She also has those attacks, rage. It could be anywhere: in the street, in the shop, post office. Someone would disrespect her, refused her and she would call this person names, offensive words, yell. There was no limit to it. Let’s say she wanted to get in the bus and someone was blocking the way, she would destroy that person, (not physically – not in those situations at least). She expected me to be angry too, so I learned to stand by her. But I never learned to rage – standing by her side and being on her side was good enough apparently, she never made me yell and rage as she did. Now when those situations occur, someone “disrespecting” me, refusing, not noticing me in a queue – I feel my heart beating faster, reliving it again and again. Being afraid is what I feel. I am not afraid of this person – sometimes it is a mother with a stroller, I am not afraid of my reactions – I cannot and not feel like attacking the other person. I just stand there and relive those past situations.

I remember very well how very difficult it’s been for me to make decisions.

How well I know this feeling. Even today I got ready after work and just sat for minutes, thinking if I want to go. If yes, where? groceries/ bakery? by bus/ bike? or just go for a walk and do shopping tomorrow? Funny thing is I don’t know. I make decision based on little things, I just choose randomly because I don’t know.

Anita, you wrote about wasting your creativity and intelligence. I think of the times I liked to do things, sing and cannot imagine how much effort it would be for me now to do those things. One time a girl from my work told me she used to play board games but since she does overtime at work her mind is so occupied she cannot focus right now. This is how I feel for years, all my life since childhood. When I go for a walk I force myself to notice trees, signs, because I normally don’t see them. I am not attentive at work either, I have to force myself and focus to see things – it’s something I need to do, it does not come naturally. There are days it is too much for me to focus to music.

I feel sorry for myself – that I did not have a real mother, that I wasted so many years, could do so many things, travel, meet people. Instead I was dealing with her all those years. I regret living with her for so long, but I do not blame myself for it. She is to blame that it was hard for me to find job, to be successful, to be in healthy relationship, that I had cuts and wounds on my face and it kept me from moving on with my life – it was all her fault that I was stuck. If she was supportive and loving I would not have had all those difficulties.

I feel sad, betrayed, tricked. I miss having a mother. It is really lonely.

It is freeing, though, to know all this, to realize she is in fact sick.