Me, myself and BPD

Hello.... I am Paul. I am 41 years old from Liverpool, England. I am writing about my life so far. It has been filled with glorious highs and incredible lows that are mostly self-inflicted, due to my inability to resist the unfortunate skill of acting on impulse. This instalment covers my childhood years.

I don't really have many memories of being a toddler but I do recall my Mother being a kind and caring soul, but that was all to change when in 1984 we went to stay with a family relative for the weekend. That relative took it upon himself to rape my Mother in front of me. I remember the feeling of being helpless, there was nothing I could do. I was 4 years old and out of my depth. The loving life I had been blessed with was coming to an end, things where going to shift so much that they would determine the course of my life for the next 37 years.

It drastically changed my Mother for the worse she became distant, a recluse, shutting out the world and she became emotionally dead. There was no more kisses, no more cuddles, no more story times and no more playing with me. I remember the first time she hit me. I was 5 years old and had been naughty in school. The teacher informed my Mother of what I had done and on the way home my Mother was fine, but when we got home I was told to get in the bath. The water was hotter than usual it was almost burning me. Mother started to wash my hair and once the soap was in my eyes and I could not see she started to punch me in the head. "Mummy, please stop you are hurting me" It lasted for about five minutes but felt like a lifetime. After it was all over I was sent to bed without any dinner. The next day at breakfast nothing was said of the previous day, it was just as if it had never happened.

The beatings got worse but my Mother was discreet in her treatment of me. She would never hurt me in front of family members and she would only ever smack me on my buttocks or my head. I now know from talking to Mother that this was done because it the only parts of the body where people would not see the bruises.

I was never allowed to play out in the street with the other children. I was never allowed to go to birthday parties or have a birthday party myself. I was completely cut off from any social interaction apart from when I was in school. This is probably why I currently have no friends and don't leave the house much. I am okay with that though, I am happy with my own company or is it because I am still that child at heart.

By the age of ten I had become comfortably numb to the beatings, they would not hurt me anymore. It was just a reaction in the brain and I could switch off from this. I laughed at my Mother once for smacking me and she was so angry. She grabbed me by my hair and rammed my head into the wall several times. The feeling of pain was back it hurt me so much, again I was sent to bed with no dinner. By the age of eleven I was being forced to have a bar of soap in my mouth for hours at a time. The soapy bubbles would be frothing out my nose, my eyes stinging.

No matter what she done to me I craved for her love. I could not understand why she hated me so much but I did not care, I just wanted her to love me. " I wish you where never born, I wish you would die" these where statements I would here a lot but again no matter. One day she will love me.

At the age of eleven I was sent to a new school, away from all the friends I had made. Things where to get much worse. I was overweight due to the lack of physical activity and the other kids would make fun of me and bully me. I spent the next four years being bullied at home and bullied at school, for the first time in my life I was suicidal. In 1995 I decided enough was enough. This boy was bullying me one day when I hit him so hard he fell to ground. When he got up I kept hitting him and hitting him. I left him with a cauliflower ear. The other children encouraging the fight, baying for blood. It was over and after that day no one bullied me again in school. Something changed in me that day. I came to the conclusion that violence was a solution.

A few weeks later my Mother was angry with me and decided to start hitting me, I snapped I hit her back. Mother looked at me in pure disgust. I felt a veil of rage come over me and started punching her, kicking her and biting her. I must admit at the time it felt good, I realised that she could never hurt me again it was over.

I was sent to my grandparents to live. They where completely unaware of my Mother's mistreatment of me and just presumed that I was an aggressive teenager. They loved me very much and for the first time in my life I felt wanted. They helped me with my studying and I left school at sixteen with good grades.

!996 I was sent back to my Mother and started college. I hated my Mother, despised her almost. I needed to get away from her, anywhere would do so I decided to apply to join the Royal Air Force. Mother put and end to this move as I needed my Mothers permission as I was under 18. I had to take another approach I got my self expelled from college and started my campaign of violence again against my Mother. Finally she chose to let me join the Royal Navy, I could not swim but I decided this was my chance to finally escape my Mother, escape Liverpool and start a new life for myself.

In the next instalment I will talk about my life after leaving my Mother and Liverpool behind. Please consider leaving a tip. I would be extremely grateful.