Does BPD run in anyone else's family? I think about this a lot. I have a cousin who I can talk about this with too, which is nice because if my mom goes off the deep end she can relate with her mom (my aunt). 

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So my mom has 6 siblings. I am not even exaggerating when I say that every single one of them exhibits signs of moderate to severe mental illness. It is very apparent that my mom, as well as quite a few of my aunts, show the definite signs of BPD. I learned a few years back that my grandpa (my mom's dad) was actually raised by his aunt because my great grandmother was so mentally ill she couldn't care for him. It's as if mental illness is rampant on that side of my family. 

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My childhood was not very normal, as I'm sure a lot of others on here can relate to. My sister must have gotten the good genes (my dad's side) because she made it out mentally healthy. She moved across the country, stayed gracefully at arms length from my mom and me. Sometimes I'm mad at her. I'm mad that she got the better half. I'm mad that she moved away, leaving me with an unstable mother to be forever passively angry with me in person rather than on the phone, long distance. But I also feel sad for her. I feel sad that she is torn between wanting to show us love and at risk for being dragged down into an ugly pit of neuroticism. I feel sad that she has to feel guilty but better at the same time. I'm sad that can't have a neurotypical sister who shares joy in life's milestones. Like getting married and having children. I'm sad that she will probably not trust me with her future children for fear they will be plagued with the same cloud of negativity that floats so heavy over my frame of mind. I'm sad that she is sad for me, I can see it in her eyes when I lash out, when I perceive a comment as rude, when I complain about a minor incident so passionately, when I push away loving boyfriends, when I pick fights at work, when I reject happiness. 

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I think about my sister a lot. We are close in age, we look very similar. She is a warped mirror image of what I could be but fail time and time again to achieve. A person who pushes aside minor details to look at the bigger picture. A person who rises from the rubble transformed and beautiful. A person who says no to pain. A person who creates her own happiness. She has so much hope for me, and is often confused by my choices. She can't take me seriously when I tell her I was born a horned beast and quickly zipped in a baby human suit. I try to escape the idea that I am the family illness, to reinvent myself. That's what I know other people would say, I would sound silly, typical borderline blaming external factors. But if this is all my choice, why is it so hard even after I choose happiness? 