by skyfeather » Sat Jan 14, 2017 4:40 am
Mandy,
My heart now cries for you and for me.
I cry these words out. Yes. My daughter, diagnosed with BPD, died by suicide this last election day. It is only now, after her death, that her therapist has let me know that she was treating her for Borderline Personality Disorder. Medical privacy rights kept me from hearing this while she was alive, while I could have at least learned the better ways to communicate with and support her.
My daughter, was 21. She bought a handgun on the day she died, November 8, 2016. We had talked and texted throughout the day. In the late afternoon, she called and said more of what I heard so so often, that she didn't think she could do this, that she didn't know how long she could go before she collapsed, that she was so unhappy she didn't have words.
I know that most parents would have been so alerted with these expressions. And I 'should' have been. But with years and years of such depths of pain, alternating with tremendous accomplishments, I lived poised to either celebrate with her, or have my heart cower in fear for her fragility.
I never thought I would lose her! Not even having had suicide attempt at 14 and suicidal behavior repeatedly within the next 7 years.
That's something of the life my daughter and I lived. And now, she is gone. And I am frantically searching for understanding, and I am destroyed to learn now what might have made a difference to her. I loved her so so much. I supported her in all the ways I possibly could, yet she said she didn't understand why I didn't, couldn't love her, why her own mother didn't, couldn't love her. I didn't know what to do with that. I did what the books now explain is common, I became paralyzed, depleted, less able to reach out to her when she needed it more than ever.
I could write on and on. In fact, write is about all I can do. I can't much leave my bed, or my room, or my house. I can't much think, or buy groceries without crying. I can barely face that i still need to go across the country to get her things. And she won't be there. I don't know how to survive this.