This time of year always reminds me of my mom’s negativity — a quality I now associate with her undiagnosed BPD.
Every year, every single year, as the 4th of July approached, my mom would find an opportunity to sigh that “summer is almost over.”
During the stressful years I was teaching in a public high school, those words caused me almost physical pain. I would know, as June progressed, that those words were coming and would dread hearing them.
My kids and husband think this is funny, because, after all, who thinks of the 4th as the end of summer? It seems ridiculous. They amuse themselves by saying some variation of this sentiment to me, not realizing (I assume) that I still, after all these years, really don’t think it’s funny.
This past weekend John remarked, “The 4th of July means the summer is almost half over,” and laughed.
I told him he’d blown the reference, because of course we really are just about halfway through the summer. The actual quote — the sentiment so dark, so pessimistic, so over the top — is that on the 4th, it’s virtually over. Snowstorms around the bend.
My mom’s special touch was not just to remark on sad or depressing things, but to make things worse than they actually were. That, to me, is the BPD difference!