I was a problem child; severe Bipolar disorder and ADHD in the 80s and 90s well before it was truly understood and treated beyond "load them up on Ritalin and Paxil and Trazedone".
Constant trouble, screaming matches, physical fights, property destruction. emotional hell on both sides, and things that should never be uttered between a mother and child (either way). Ran away three times before being kicked out at 16 and sent to one of those "troubled teen" facilities. Eventually sent to live with the other side of the family (whom I then willingly separated myself from soon after...due to the rampant alcoholism, drugs, abuse, even murder later on, on that side).
I was sent this on my 18th birthday, and have not heard from or been able to contact anyone on my mother's side of the family since. Including family members completely removed from the day to day and who had no idea of anything going on at the time, and family members who were also literal children and toddlers at the time. The entire tree was poisoned somewhere along the way.
At almost 40 now, I'd like to think I've done pretty well and built a good life and family of my own (after some early struggles in adulthood, granted)...but these words still haunt me.
They have, however, also provided inspiration and motivation when I needed it the most.
Edit: I did not expect this to blow up this much. I have some stuff to take care of (that whole "adulting" thing, lol) and will be back later to answer more questions. As a general note, though, there's a lot of nuance to the situation and my life in general and remember....nothing's ever black or white. Reading through some of my responses so far might paint a clearer picture, but yea.
Edit 2: Have mistakenly abbreviated Bipolar Disorder as BPD in a few spots; BPD apparently refers to something entirely different and I was unaware of that. I will correct that, to clarify any confusion.
I was estranged from my family for 20 years( still from my brother- 35 yrs). My mother contacted me when she got so old she needed help(95 yrs). I walked her through the last 5 yrs of her life. We never discussed her cruelty and abuse, but I had the pleasure of demanding no abuse, rascism, homophobia, or bigotry of any kind. I had to look at her as a hopelessly damaged individual that I was morally obligated to care for. The upside was that I was able to pick through her lies and delusions and find out much about my long-dead father. My sister was trying to help her with funeral arangements and asked what kind of urn she wanted, Mom got all Mom and nasty on her and said "I don't care, put me in a coffee can", so we did. A nice Folgers can with a piece of masking tape on it that said "Mom" in crayon.
DamThatRiver22 on May 5th, 2024 at 14:36 UTC »
I was a problem child; severe Bipolar disorder and ADHD in the 80s and 90s well before it was truly understood and treated beyond "load them up on Ritalin and Paxil and Trazedone".
Constant trouble, screaming matches, physical fights, property destruction. emotional hell on both sides, and things that should never be uttered between a mother and child (either way). Ran away three times before being kicked out at 16 and sent to one of those "troubled teen" facilities. Eventually sent to live with the other side of the family (whom I then willingly separated myself from soon after...due to the rampant alcoholism, drugs, abuse, even murder later on, on that side).
I was sent this on my 18th birthday, and have not heard from or been able to contact anyone on my mother's side of the family since. Including family members completely removed from the day to day and who had no idea of anything going on at the time, and family members who were also literal children and toddlers at the time. The entire tree was poisoned somewhere along the way.
At almost 40 now, I'd like to think I've done pretty well and built a good life and family of my own (after some early struggles in adulthood, granted)...but these words still haunt me.
They have, however, also provided inspiration and motivation when I needed it the most.
Edit: I did not expect this to blow up this much. I have some stuff to take care of (that whole "adulting" thing, lol) and will be back later to answer more questions. As a general note, though, there's a lot of nuance to the situation and my life in general and remember....nothing's ever black or white. Reading through some of my responses so far might paint a clearer picture, but yea.
Edit 2: Have mistakenly abbreviated Bipolar Disorder as BPD in a few spots; BPD apparently refers to something entirely different and I was unaware of that. I will correct that, to clarify any confusion.
Bekiala on May 5th, 2024 at 15:57 UTC »
Wow, sounds like your growing up was beyond beyond tough.
Is it more your choice or your mom's to be estranged? Sometimes it can be for the best but man really difficult.
Huge congrats on building yourself a good life.
Wuzzlehead on May 5th, 2024 at 16:59 UTC »
I was estranged from my family for 20 years( still from my brother- 35 yrs). My mother contacted me when she got so old she needed help(95 yrs). I walked her through the last 5 yrs of her life. We never discussed her cruelty and abuse, but I had the pleasure of demanding no abuse, rascism, homophobia, or bigotry of any kind. I had to look at her as a hopelessly damaged individual that I was morally obligated to care for. The upside was that I was able to pick through her lies and delusions and find out much about my long-dead father. My sister was trying to help her with funeral arangements and asked what kind of urn she wanted, Mom got all Mom and nasty on her and said "I don't care, put me in a coffee can", so we did. A nice Folgers can with a piece of masking tape on it that said "Mom" in crayon.