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I’m reusing the title of my very first post on StayLDS. I’m dusting it off because it applies again but in a different way. 🙂 I don’t really tell the full story of my faith crisis because it’s personal and because I fear that even some measure of internet anonymity isn’t enough to protect me and my family… but I guess it’s high time. The hope is that opening up in this sub-forum will allow me to tell my story while keeping certain information away from google searches. Blame Heber13 for giving me the courage.
To cut right to the chase… years ago my mother was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD). The diagnosis was important in that it helped DW and I understand the nature of the problems we had been seeing over the years but knowing also made things difficult, more on that later. Further complicating matters, my mother is “blissfully” unaware of her diagnosis. How I came to find out about her condition is a long story. I’ve got lots and lots of long stories. I don’t want to make this initial post longer than it already is but I’m open to share stories. If there’s any interest just ask.
I know this isn’t a support group for people that have family members with mental health issues, that’s another reason I’ve kept this to myself. I’ve found internet support forums with those goals but I don’t feel safe posting anonymously on those sites either. Any discovered identifying experience would be gas on the fire for me. That’s really the only reason I hold fast to anonymity on StayLDS. I haven’t shared much about my mother in the public forums but I want that option to be open to me so I remain anonymous. I try to bottle everything up, internalize, but this has really become the defining trial of my life and it’s at the core of my faith crisis.
I recently connected with a face to face support group (local NAMI group) and I plan on pursuing that option. I went to my first meetup this month. So far so good.
Childhood. I’ll breeze over this one. I knew my mother was weird/eccentric and I knew that I didn’t enjoy living with her but couldn’t articulate why. My parents were divorced so I was able to live with my dad. How that came to be is another one of those long stories (FYI, every time I say “long” I really mean “crazy”
In early adulthood my grandparents served as a buffer between my mother and the rest of the world. I don’t think they were aware of the full extent of the issues they were up against but they were the go-to people to solve the problems. To be honest she didn’t exhibit the same level of negative/aggressive behavior back in those days. Unfortunately her condition has worsened with age. I believe that’s because the stressors in her life have intensified. E.g. advancing age brings death of family members and friends, health problems, etc.
(continued)
As it pertains to me, the real abuse started about 5 years ago… and that’s how I classify it, abuse. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got a littleperspective. Allow me to deviate with an analogy: True story, when I was in boy scouts I went to a junior leadership campout. There was a kid from another troop that was handicapped, I want to say that he had cerebral palsy (it’s been a long time). We all had to partner off in the beginning but no one wanted to partner up with him (me either). He was socially awkward. My scoutmaster was at the event, he ended up talking me into it, I decided to partner up with this kid (P.S. Dear scout master, I’m very grateful you did that, seriously. Thanks for the life lesson. RIP).
The next day some scouts were making fun of the kid so he picked up a nice fist sized rock and threw it at them. Well he was handicapped, his aim was terrible; the rock hit me square in the face (and I wasn’t even near those guys). The rock was less than an inch away from blinding me in one eye. My glasses took one for the team and I ended up getting several stitches in my eyebrow. The only person that stepped up to be this guy’s friend and I’m inadvertently at the receiving end of an attack that was provoked by others. So where am I going with all this?
Well it’s not like I could get mad at the guy. He had an obvious condition and he didn’t mean to almost put my eye out… but it still happened. I learned a lesson over 25 years ago and here I am trying to relearn it now. My mom’s condition isn’t anywhere near as obvious, I always had this lingering doubt that her behavior was intentional, purposely manipulative, or somehow under her control. It isn’t. It’s hard to lay it at her feet; she’s completely unaware that her behavior is abusive. The problem is that she’s thrown many, many rocks in the last 5 years. Sometimes I was the target, sometimes I wasn’t, sometimes the rocks landed; sometimes they didn’t, either way I’ve got lots of scars.
So I’ve given some background, gone on well past people’s attention spans, and I haven’t even gotten to my faith crisis. I’ll try to give a high level view since the crisis has passed and is no longer a pressing issue.
The first chink in the armor was observing that people don’t get wiser with age. Sounds silly, sounds obvious, but that was a thing for me. The more significant thing was that I couldn’t figure out how to reconcile the LDS conceptualization of the afterlife (and by extension the purpose of this life) with my new thoughts.
I simply didn’t want to be with my mother in the afterlife, I was done. The thought of the atonement being used as a magic wand to “fix” my mother didn’t feel just to me. There was too much real hurt and that solution felt like it would somehow invalidate my experiences. I’m 100% positive that there’s a well-reasoned explanation within the Mormon framework but there was no balm to be found in Gilead on that particular day. It cut deep.
(continued)
I’m not a complete monster; I recognize that I’m not the only sufferer in this equation. I know my mother suffers. I’ve spent a considerable amount of time trying to view things from her perspective; I’ve gone a little crazy myself in the process. I’m incapable of completely understanding her perspective, she’s probably a little incapable herself. :crazy: Recently I ran across a blog entry about BPD and the comments were open to both people that had a loved one with BPD and to people with BPD. Of course a fight broke out.
One of the hallmarks of BPD is black and white thinking. Perhaps dealing with black and white thinking on steroids helped jar something loose on my psyche.
As an aside, Elder Holland gave a nice talk. Much of the talk rings hollow for me specifically but it’s still a very, very nice talk:
Quote:Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed. While God is at work making those repairs, the rest of us can help by being merciful, nonjudgmental, and kind.
I wouldn’t compare a mental illness to a broken bone; I’d compare a mental illness to an amputated limb. Bones can mend in this life, in our case and in many cases the mental illness is a permanent condition. It will plague my mother the rest of her life. I think an amputated limb better reflects the severity and perceived permanence of the condition. The best available option is to come up with a prosthetic solution that at best can only imitate reality, a solution that provides only the most basic and limited functions.
I have the personality quirk of being a “fixer.” I can’t leave something well enough alone, I want to fix it. I met a problem that can’t be reasoned with, a problem that doesn’t even know it’s a problem, a problem that simply can’t be fixed. That experience challenged my tightly held beliefs.
After that all my beliefs came under the refiner’s fire. I revisited shelved questions and lost myself in study. The rest is… wait for it… history!
(continued, sorry
My two main stumbling blocks at this time as I see them: I’ve lost hope. Sometimes I’ll get caught up in thoughts of the future holding nothing but more emergencies and more fires to extinguish. It’s been an especially rough last few years, the past is the past but extrapolation can be a hell of a thing. Call it resignation.
- Isolationism. I could say quite a lot about that. I have made strides this month in reaching out to the NAMI group. I’m opening up here as well. I’m really trying to buck the isolation trend. A faith crisis was also a very isolating experience for me. It just feels like as time goes on there are fewer and fewer people I can relate to, I don’t want to be hurt anymore, so I shut the world out.
I’m not really looking for anything from any of you. I just wanted to give you a little background to help people understand the real me a little better. Maybe shine a light on why my picture ends up looking like something produced by a Dadaist. I’m in a much better place than before, sure I’d like for the emergencies to be less frequent, some of the hateful behaviors to cease… “but if not.” I don’t have control over those things so the only option I’m left with is how to better process the emergencies myself.
DW has been a godsend. She’s been an amazing example through all of this. I feel like I’m lagging behind her by at least 20 years. Therein lies hope as well. As DW now is, I may be.
Up until recently I was serving in a Spanish language branch in our stake. I’ve served in a Spanish speaking branch a few times now. In the past our whole family transferred over to the branch but now that our kid is older we decided that it was best for just me to transfer over this most recent time (since I’m the only in our family that can speak Spanish). Our meetings were in the same building and they also overlap by two hours (the youth are integrated) so it wasn’t that big of a deal to split our church activity like that.
Things were going fairly well, I was comfortable with where I was at (that’s a bad sign isn’t it?) and the BP was truly excellent. He radiated love and you could tell that he was a people before policy type of person. He helps people conquer sin by loving them so much that the sin gets crowded out. Good guy. This January things took a nose dive, another one of my long stories involving my mother, and it really hasn’t let up yet. I also had a health scare so I reached a tipping point. I really just wanted to be with my family so I asked to be transferred back to my home ward.
I wasn’t ready to go back. I’m like a fish out of water in my own culture.
I know this is long. I’m probably only writing this for myself at this point. I want to come back in the future, reread this, and find additional hope for the future in recognizing the progress that I’ve realized (pun).
Mother, did it need to be so long? Thanks for opening up and sharing Nibbler, It’s not an easy thing to do. When I was called to the high council the outgoing high councilor, who was also from my ward, told me that the thing he would miss most was the comradery among the group. Nearly a year in, I see that. I can say things in our meetings and to individuals in the group I can’t say in other meetings (like SS or PH) or to random individuals. I’m finding that to be the case in this slightly smaller group here. I, too, and glad the I could “come in and know [you] better.”
Thanks, nibbler. I appreciate this post, greatly. Great big huge hugs to you, Nibbler. I’ve considered attending NAMI meetings in the past, but never went. My wife suffers from anxiety and depression, plus additional baggage from sexual abuse as a child. It has been very tough at times for our relationship. We also have an adult son that suffers from severe anxiety and depression too. He may never be independent, and that was a hard reality to face as a parent. Just sharing a little bit of that so that you know where I am coming from with those hugs. Sometimes you just need to be heard and not keep it all bottled up. I totally get it. I hear you. Mental illness is tough to experience in those people around us we love (or want to love). It is no less an illness than physical injuries and diseases. In some ways harder since it isn’t so obvious on the outside.
Mental illness is very difficult to reconcile with many of the Mormon theological views — especially free agency and our afterlife cosmology. I’m not saying it isn’t possible. But it is certainly hard to hold on to the more common/traditional views. It causes many people to question their beliefs. Maybe that’s a good thing, in a way. It’s a lesson in humility and patience for sure.
nibbler wrote:Blame Heber13 for giving me the courage.
I get blamed for a lotta things…this one…I’ll gladly take.
You and I have PM’d about BPD, nibbler. I understand you. It is not easy. And there aren’t fixes for some things. You just move forward and find a way to make your family and your life happy.
It feels good to share with others who understand. And we understand your problems are real, brother. They are not just because you need to pray more or have more faith. No, some things are outside the realm of religion, but you can bring your religion and faith into it if you choose and if it helps.
You’re a good guy and a sense of humor sometimes helps. If we can’t laugh, we’ll cry…huh?
Okay – Heber13, Nibbler, Brian – My heart is just melting with this stories. I have loved this site for all my time on it, but as we share these all my anger melts like a candle. I am actually holding my breath while typing to keep the tears of sorrow, love, and joy from tipping over. The other day I read someones explanation of Terryl Givens idea of this God that Weeps. When I read the explanation, that was the God and world I want. It isn’t easy, but it’s so fulfilling. What each of you have done and continue to do in my mind makes you equal with the God that Weeps. Bless you. Thank you for blessing me.
Thanks, mom3. To me…these kinds of things are pure religion. It is about connecting with each other and helping each other and sharing with each other. The doctrines and creeds and teachings are just ways to help us do that…and they change over time to what pure religion needs.
Beyond the problems I’ve had at church…these connections to good people and the pure religion idea is what transcends church imperfections.
What we feel from each other here in this forum can also be found in church if we look for it. At least I think so.
Heber13 wrote:What we feel from each other here in this forum can also be found in church if we look for it. At least I think so.
I think so, too.
nibbler – Thanks for telling us the story. I don’t have anything profound, but I can commiserate to a certain extent. My dad spent a good portion of his days in black depression, which we suffered for in various ways; my brother’s bi-polar and sister’s schizoaffective. I got off easy with regular-strength anxiety. Some days I’m just sad for all of us. We made a lot of mistakes in ignorance. We racked up a lot of damage before better meds and better professionals appeared on the scene. And some of it is untreatable, untouchable. Your posts always help me. Thank you. I hope you can find a comfortable spot in the English-speaking Mormon world.
nibbler wrote:apparently I took it more serious, showed up as Lord Humungus from Mad Max.
You are awesome! At least you have your safety mask and chest straps on.
😆
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