TW;  suicide. 

I’m mid 40s, daughter wBPD 19.   Married 21 years.  As I try to cope with all she does/doesn’t do I see so much of myself at her age.  And as I’ve read and learnt I suspect my bipolar diagnosis may have been incorrect as I never responded to meds, And I had just a long depression with the horrible stuff of BPD thrown in.

I’m so over her right now, if I could run I would.  She also has autism, mild. Everything is a fight, she picks and picks, I ignore, but she doesn’t stop until someone replies, then goes off into a rage.  Somehow she has a boyfriend, and I love it when she’s not here.  I feel the peace.  My husband and I can just sit quietly knowing that we’re not going to be yelled at.   The funny thing was she was manipulative as a child, I called it out to my husband and mother-n-law (who unfortunately lives with us) and I was dismissed. 

I’ve done some pretty crappy things as a mother.  My daughter blames me for her trauma that brought on the when she was little.  I think no, maybe yes.  I had post-partum depression with psychosis, in and out of hospital.  I thought I did the best I could but maybe not.  I remember being so angry when she was 5 or 6 that I picked up her chair threw it down  - she wasn’t in it of course - I don’t know why.  It frightened her.  I also yelled at her so loud one day that she peed her pants.  Never physically smacking though there were times when I wanted to.   I burst her ballon once too, after warning her if she continued hitting me with  it as I cooked dinner I’d burst it.  I burst it.  She cried/screamed, her grandmother and dad took her to the ice cream shop.  

She says she can only remember the bad stuff as a child, nothing happy at all.  She told me that’s what she told her psych.  But then she’ll talk about x time being good. And when she was happy.

Two years ago she spent 4 weeks in a psych hospital after starting a suicide attempt, she thought it wasn’t a good idea after she started so she came to me for help. Which we took her to emergency, then onto psych admission.  

Those 4 weeks were bliss.  I went and saw her each day of course.  But when I left the hospital I knew I was coming home to quiet and I wouldn’t have to worry.  

I’m confused.  I’m scared.   One minute I’m her best friend, the next she hates me.  I don’t know what I’ll get when I wake up, I just want my piece and  quiet back.  I blame myself, then not.  I just don’t know anymore