My Borderline Existence: Death
My wonderful mother was vibrant and intelligent. She was 28 years old when my baby brother was born. She died five months later of an insidious cancer. To make things worse, my grandfather (her father) disowned his three grandchildren. Of course, now I understand that this type of loss is the basis of a borderline personality disorder (BPD) diagnosis. But wait, it gets worse. Soon after my mother died, my father married our 18 year-old babysitter. She left after being nearly beaten to death when I was 12 years old. I was left to fend for myself, take care of my siblings and my abusive father.
