Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Watching the habits of someone who has a personality disorder has become a habit I'm much better at doing silently (at least in the talking aspect, maybe not so much the writing one). One of the biggest things I have notated is how much they claim (emphatically, no less) they have changed or how they are doing better or how they are different than everyone else. Usually, before they've even caught their breath to start a new sentence they follow it up with verbal confirmation of how they haven't changed (this tends to be as they switch into victim mode and deflect how the world is ending but not because of anything they did). This in turn shows how borderlines have clear, repeatable, cyclic behavior like all the other borderlines out there. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I'm in the midst of watching yet another cycle of laundry with one of the  borderlines in our lives and I can't help but wonder how the kids in all of this must feel? I'm an adult. I've got 37 years of life under my belt, I've survived hell and I was able to add some research and education to help me understand and live with the borderlines. But kids, they don't have any of that. So as I watch the Fantasia of the borderline play out on our big screens, I sit back and grow non-reactive and thoughtful. I wistfully think how much I wish they could see they are forcefully and willfully repeating the past history of their own life (that they begrudge and  have cried about publicly) to their own kids. You don't want history to repeat? Well, stop making the same choices.

After reading over a volley of texts I sat back and thought how well I know this cycle. I've watched it for YEARS. Sadly, the borderline cannot even realize it is yet another load of laundry. Wash, rinse, repeat. Instead they think the tragedy they are going through means they've grown and changed and are doing better. It's validation for how much of a victim they really are! But for all the outsiders looking in - they question how someone could purposely and intentionally create the same type of childhood the borderline lived and they lament about all over for pity and attention.

So you watch the children go through a purposely created repeat of their own parent's childhood and you step back to figure out what you can do to help. I admit, at first I really, really wanted to judge and take one small piece of satisfaction. Not joy, because it's not a joyful thing when the very future you knew and warned that person of - would happen and break that person and their children to pieces. But I'm human, yes I wanted to say to them, "And you thought I was the bad one and the risk in this equation. Probably should have looked closer at the person you were bringing into your home". Instead I stood back and thought how awful someone must be messed up to willingly create the exact same soul damaging childhood all over again for the one child they deem is their do over and salvation. And then I remember I'm dealing with a borderline and the research and data says they will willingly recreate their past and go through the same trauma time and time again. Because it feels normal to them. It is all they know. And to me that says, they will never change.

Today I spent the day painting nails, cuddling and answering the, "I love you mom" that came across as a question because they were needing to be validated and heard. What this child needs is something far from the usual wash, rinse and repeat. This child needs to be soaked by sprinklers  and running through them in glee, able to look at a parent who looks back and really see's the moment in the moment for the moment. This child needs to have firm boundaries and routine, showing the strength and calm in the parents who love her paired with firm consequences and unending love. This child needs to not worry about the cycle of a parent who is heartbroken, forlorn, and minimally interested in them because they can't function without the poor choices they willingly brought into their lives. This child needs someone to protect them. To put them first. To establish and honor the boundaries to allow them to not have to repeat the past her own parent is repeating purposely and willingly because it's simply too hard for them to put all that effort and work to heal themselves and become a better parent for their child.

The old me would love to naively say I wish their parent would grasp the lesson of the tragedy they are facing. I wish they could gather from the ashes enough material to piece together their wings which will bring them to a land of sanity, health and peace. I wish I could know that this will be the moment that allows this child to be the center of both our lives, not just mine and my husbands. But, I've never been much good at being a dreamer. At least not since I left the abusive life of being married to a borderline. Reality is hard and a big pill to swallow. But, I'm thankful that I can identify and acknowledge the cycle - wash, rinse, repeat. They are no different and all repeat and live the same cyclic behaviors/patterns. My past may have built me into who I am now, but not all are mentally and emotionally able to go outside of the cycle.

Hopefully though, I can find a way so that all these children who have at least one borderline parent aren't forced to eventually fall into the laundry cycle and Lord willing they never view themselves as just laundry. I pray with all my heart and mind all four of these children won't ever have to accept that the best life will get for them is to wash, rinse and repeat. I pray that they can see and accept what their parent was dealt in their own lives, be empathetic and mindful of their own boundaries, love their parent, but still demand better for themselves and not fall into thinking life is solely about 3 cycles, repeatedly and for eternity. Life is better, and I pray they can get there. I pray I can answer to these cycles in a manner that helps them through it, too. Each and every one of them are worth it. They all deserve to be able to throw the laundry into the basket, let it sit and even get some stains. They all should be able to work the fabric together and scrub those stains out and not be consumed with how others will judge them but focus on the lesson they learned from it. Hopefully, they all will only ever put their clothes through the wash, rinse, repeat and never ever except being labeled as nothing more than a piece of clothing. Never ever allowing their souls to be the items placed in the wash. Hopefully they all find that in the moments outside of the cycle, when you're forced to go from rinse to wash you are given a washer full of water and new lessons needing to be learned. The cycle isn't where the safety and growth come from. The faith in a higher belief and the ability to improvise and learn to piece together a manner to fly - that is where the moments of life that fill your soul and give you a freedom far from one your parent's may have willfully (even if not for the best) have etched out for your future lie. I hope each of these children finds those moments and draws strength and hope. That they never fall into the comfort of the cycle and learn from the phoenix moments of how to do better and be better and love themselves more completely and better.  Each of them. Because my love for them is so much more than the love I felt for myself when I was their ages and I'm ever so grateful for God placing each and every one of them in my life. Hopefully I don't let them down and hopefully I can guide them through the inflicted cycle in a manner than gives them the love they need, shows them the God they seek out, and justifies the love they have for their borderline parent in a manner than allows them to demand better for themselves without feeling the need to erase them from their lives.

And so I end my day in prayer, as I often do. Wash, rinse, repeat. See, even I have some routine habits that I self medicate with. God and his ears are one of them. Good night world, pray for our babies and for these borderlines. Maybe one day, the Universe will speak to them and guide them to heal their hearts. Until then, I will sit back and do what I can while watching the water slosh around and bang against the sides of the machine as it washes the clothes in scalding hot water, drowning them in suds of soap, and soaking up the water in insanely high temperatures of heat. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.