Someone in my family suffers from Borderline Personality disorder. Most of us have distanced ourselves to a degree in order to keep our lives moving forward.
I reached out yesterday, and this person was sweet and silly on video chat. When they sent a message this morning the difference in thinking was unbelievable. If I didn’t know better I would have said it was a different person.
But, I DO know better, all of my life with them has been filled with mood swings, fear of being alone, cruelty to those she loves, and paranoia. It’s hard enough to handle on its face, but knowing that not everyone can create a safe space (those under 18) is even more difficult.
I move slowly around this person. Because, despite my best attempts at mindfulness about what may trigger them, I never have any real certainty about it. My actions affect their trigger, and they unknowingly hurt still others.
What’s more, if I write about this person, even with the acknowledgement that it is one perspective, it could have ripple effects. The last time I wrote about them, I went about it in a spirit of anger and pain. I didn’t reach a capacity to let go of my hurt for almost a decade more, and today it feels wrong to document only what I see of the person, I love cautiously. With patience, compassion, understanding, and an open mind i can see the beauty that they seem to try so hard to hide and protect. It may be that the efforts to protect takes so much energy there is no time for the rest of life.
Long and short: no matter how kind or helpful we may think an action, we will likely never see all the ways it reverberates. –reflective poem will follow 😊 good night