The Sadder Face

Borderline personality disorder is a variable, hard-to-pin-down phenomenon. “These patients…are a heterogeneous group…Even the same patient will present with a wide variety of problems at different times,” says Arthur Freeman, editor of Comparative Treatments for Borderline Personality Disorder. Another specialist, Robert G. Harper, describes patients as sometimes relatively pleasant, engaging, and responsive, while at other times depressed, sullen, confused, disorganized, angry, demanding, drug-seeking, or manipulative.

Sometimes people who know a little about the disorder (sometimes experts, too) sum it all up in simplistic terms — addiction, rage, childhood abuse, cutting — when not all (not even most) sufferers show all these symptoms. And no one shows them most of the time. It’s elusive, this disease, and often people with BPD don’t exhibit the symptoms much at all outside the home, outside of their closest relationships. It’s the significant others, along with the patient, who bear the brunt of this relationship disease.

Augusten Burroughs in his memoir A Wolf at the Table writes this about his dad: “I remembered thinking how, in the light of day out in the world, my father was just like anybody’s father. But as soon as I was alone with him again, Dad was gone and dead was there in his place. … I realized my father was two men – one he presented to the outside world, and one, far darker, that was always there, behind the face everybody else saw.” 

I always noted that my mother seemed cheerful around other people. When neighbors visited, she smiled and conversed and never betrayed her bitterness. At church, she was cordial, if distant, and in the nursing homes, the staff always told me and my sisters how pleasant and cooperative my mother was. We would exchange knowing and frustrated looks. Why did she save all of her bitterness and cutting remarks for us?

She behaved pleasantly and normally to outsiders and showed us her darker, sadder face.

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Abuse as a Cause of BPD

Yesterday a friend and my sister and I attended an all-day seminar called Understanding Personality Disorders presented by Dr. Dennis A. Marikis and sponsored by the Institute for Brain Potential. I was amazed, being a teacher myself, at how well Dr. Marikis was able to hold our attention through six hours. He used PowerPoint adroitly (which many people don’t…have you noticed?) and interspersed movie clips illustrating the various disorders. He was funny and engaging and compassionate.

Being inclined to worry, though, I take note of things that might undermine the thesis of my book, that is, that my mom suffered from borderline personality disorder (BPD). My mom never cut or injured herself, she never tried suicide, she wasn’t abused (as far as we know), and she was not an addict. Sometimes, these very characteristics are cited as clear “markers” of the disorder. Coincidentally, I met up with an old high-school friend tonight who now works as a psychiatric nurse. When I told her about my theories about my mom, she immediately began describing young people with BPD cutting themselves and attempting suicide and suffering abuse.

It doesn’t take much to make me feel insecure, even though at the same time I paradoxically feel very confident in my new understanding of my mom. When I analyze carefully, I can make the case that the conventional thumbnail sketch of BPD — which includes abuse, rage, addiction, and self-harm — is inaccurate or incomplete.

In this post, I’ll address the “cause” issue — the often-made connection with childhood abuse as a cause of BPD. I’ll address the other issues in later posts.

“There is evidence that people with BPD are more likely to report a history of child abuse or other distressing childhood experiences,” says Dr. Kristalyn Salters-Pedneault. “But, many people who have experienced child abuse do not have BPD, and many people with BPD were not abused or maltreated as children.” As Dr. Marikis made clear in his presentation, recent studies indicate that brain chemistry and genetics play a large part in BPD; it correlates with a heritable variation in how the brain uses serotonin.

Dr. Marsha Linehan, who developed dialectical behavior therapy, argues that  biology interacts with the environment. If someone has a strong genetic inclination toward BPD, it may be triggered by parents who are merely undemonstrative, not abusive or neglectful.

Research shows that 40%-70% of BPD sufferers report childhood abuse. That’s a lot, of course, and it makes sense that abuse and neglect would contribute to BPD symptoms such as fear of abandonment and difficulty in relationships. But look at the issue another way: 30% to 60% of BPD sufferers do not report abuse. That’s also a whole lot of people, maybe over half, and so maybe the offhand assumptions about abuse as a cause is misleading.

I’m reminded of Dr. Robert O. Friedel, who in Borderline Personality Disorder Demystified: An Essential Guide for Understanding and Living with BPD writes movingly about his sister Denise, who suffered from BPD. Denise had emotional difficulties literally from birth; she cried more than her siblings and was difficult to soothe. In childhood, she would attack her sisters and brothers in violent rages and break their belongings. She seemed to have begun life with a strong biological disposition to BPD. Friedel’s mother surmised that the anesthetic she had received during Denise’s birth (and not for her four other children) had somehow affected Denise’s brain.

Friedel himself absolves his mother of any responsibility for his sister’s illness. He writes, 

“One of my most vivid memories of my mother was the way her face would light up whenever she saw one of the family. It made me feel good to my core to be caught in the radiance of her smile and the warmth of her embrace. I would watch her bestow the same love on every member of our family…There was never any doubt: she loved us all deeply and unequivocally.” (page 22) 

Dr. Friedel’s sister seems to have been born with BPD or so inclined to develop it that a stimulus like an anesthetic, if her mother’s intuition holds true, triggered her disorder. In Missing I predict that at some future date, parents (often meaning “mothers”) will be let off the hook, as they have finally been in respect to autism and schizophrenia.

That is, though BPD is in many cases probably triggered by trauma, violence, or neglect (and those cases might be the most difficult and hardest to treat), in other cases the sufferer comes from loving, if inevitably imperfect, parents.

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Hope (for Snacks) Springs Eternal

I look forward to walking my dog in the park on beautiful days like this — letting him off-leash to run wild and free through the grass, breathing the fresh air, unfettered as his wild canine ancestors.

Instead, he sniffs the candy wrappers and fast-food detritus littered all over the landscape. He lingers by the outdoor grills and loves the trash cans best of all.

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Another Kind of Missing

I’ve often wondered if people would have children if they actually comprehended the length and depth of the commitment. Before I had kids, I sort of thought that at age six, you patted them on the head and sent them off to school with a sigh of relief. Your job was just about over at that point.

Maybe I thought this because I had a somewhat inattentive mother. Maybe I just didn’t observe the world around me. I realized that some mothers stayed involved in their kids’ lives, but I thought they were kind of strange. My loving mother-in-law was great, but, really, did she have to call so often and ask so many questions?

As my kids passed that school-age milestone, the realization crept up on me: it would never end. Never. I would always be their mom, and I would always care way too much. By that time, of course, Nature has captured you and made you do her bidding, and it’s too late.

This evening I was out walking, almost home, when I ran into my neighbor, just beginning her evening stroll. Our grown daughters attended high school together and have both, now, moved out of town. We stopped and chatted about our book group’s selection Push by Sapphire (which became the movie Precious) — a story of a mother and daughter, when you think about it. (Only…yikes.) We talked for awhile and then parted, both of us worried about getting home before the clouds above us opened up.

As she turned, my neighbor gestured to her windbreaker. “It’s my daughter’s,” she said, smiling. “She left it here when she moved to Chicago.”

“Yeah. I wear one of Margaret’s sweatshirts all the time,” I laughed.

When I turned away, I heaved a huge sigh and had to blink the tears from my eyes. There it is, right at the surface. Missing her. My adult daughter. It will never end.

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Back to School

I started back to school on Monday and had a very good day. My Latin students were all pleasant and cooperative and would that we all remain that way. This positive attitude generally precedes the introduction of indirect objects, principal parts of verbs, and the second declension (“What?? There’s more than one??”)

For the second year in a row, a couple of new students have explained they’re taking Latin because Spanish was too hard for them. This is not good news for me.

Still, it’s all very promising, as new school years always are, and I’m meeting more new classes tomorrow for the first time.

My summer reading, counting from June (though I also had much of May off), amounts to thirty-seven books, with fifteen in August alone. It needs to be pointed out that my August reading included a number of children’s books, including the whole Little House on the Prairie series —  an epic classic, in my opinion. Along the lines of the racial stereotyping I’ve been writing about, there’s a creepy minstrel show near the end, in which Pa takes part.

My book group book for August — Push by Sapphire (basis for the movie Precious) — made a stunning contrast to the Little House books which would be funny if it weren’t so awful

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Wilder Indians

After reading and blogging about two of my old Weekly Reader Book Club books (here and here), I moved on to another children’s book that I knew made reference to Native Americans. I never read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books as a child, but I read the whole series to my children and loved them. As I picked them up again, I realized we had read them through only once, almost twenty years ago, so rereading them now is full of pleasurable surprises.

First, though, to get the Indian thing out of the way. Laura’s Ma hates and fears Indians. Pa views them as human beings and always tries to see things from their point of view, and Laura clearly favors her dad’s perspective.

Recreation of Ingalls family cabin in Kansas

Still, the image LIW presents is often painfully stereotypical. In The Long Winter, sixth in the series, an elderly Indian man warns the settlers about the harsh weather before them. It’s a real mix. He’s wise, his prophecies come true, and Pa so takes his warnings to heart that he moves his family into town. At the same time the old Indian represents that mysterious savage wisdom and actually says the words, “Heap big snow.” In short, the portrait of Native Americans in these books is certainly more humane and sympathetic than in many — probably ahead of its time — but still problematic by our standards.

Underlying all this ambivalence is our understanding that these admirable pioneers — the Ingalls and Wilder families — were displacing the native people. While we’re rooting for Pa to homestead successfully, we’re also aware of the great historical genocide this settlement caused.

In spite of that realization, I love these books. Ms. Wilder (and/or her daughter Rose, who some people think actually wrote them) creates a coherent, tactile world peopled with complex characters. I’ve loved this summer reading (about to start Little Town on the Prairie, the second to last of the series) and will hate to see it end. I’ve been telling everyone that the series is an epic masterpiece.

Is this opinion morally tenable? Should my recognition of what happened to Native Americans ruin my enjoyment of the Little House books? Should Fagin and Shylock spoil Dickens and Shakespeare for us? How far does a reader go to excuse bigotry and stereotypes as typical of their time?

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Martha and Me

I have mastered the muffin.

I always made okay muffins…sometimes a little chewy, sometimes a little small. Now, now, after viewing Martha making blueberry muffins and copying her recipe, I have made a big batch of delicate, delicious muffins for a picnic tomorrow.

Here’s what I learned. Apparently, I always took the usual recipe precaution “don’t over-beat” and “beat just until mixed” too literally. I was shocked at how long Martha beat the batter while adding the flour and milk to the butter-sugar mixture. I have been under-beating heretofore.

Next, Martha taught me to butter and flour the muffin tin. (I ran out of paper muffin cups, so I had to prepare the pans.) Duh. I know how much flouring the pan helps with cakes, but I never did it with muffins before. This time, no sticking! 

I used the ice-cream scoop trick to make the muffins uniformly (okay, similarly) sized.  Such a good Martha tip.

A generous sprinkle of a sugar and nutmeg mixture makes a nice crunchy topping.

Finally, I baked the muffins till they were brown. Usually I take them out too early, so that they’re done but not beautifully brown.

Voytko Farms in Aurora, Ohio

Also, I used blueberries frozen from a recent blueberry-picking trip with friends. So much better than your average frozen or grocery-store varieties. Martha also suggested shaking the berries with a tablespoon or so of flour before mixing them in the batter to prevent them from sinking to the bottom of the muffin. I forgot this step, but my blueberries did not sink.

I’m ready to try other varieties. Plain muffins. Rasberry muffins. Applesauce muffins. Coffeecake muffins. Strawberry muffins.

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Re-Stigmatizing BPD

There’s been a little dust-up going on partly in response to my post Stigmas, Statistics, and Borderline, where I mentioned that the website BringChange2Mind, created by Glenn Close to help reduce the stigma of mental illness, leaves out personality disorders and focuses instead on depression, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and PTSD.

Some bloggers and readers who’ve encountered BringChange2Mind on Facebook have now been writing comments suggesting that BPD be included on the site. Though most are reasonable, I must say the aggrieved tone of some of them does not help dispel the stigma of BPD.

The stigma is an interesting topic for someone like me — a relative. A lot of my story has to be pretty dark, because having a mom with undiagnosed BPD is no picnic. Neither is having a child, sibling, or spouse with the disorder. In order to describe the disorder, we relatives have to reveal some bad things – reinforcing rather than dispelling the stigma.

On the other hand, my reading and research led me to an understanding of BPD as an illness, in which victim is no more responsible than a person with diabetes. I’ve also come to appreciate how deeply unhappy my mom was, which makes me less inclined to kick her around.

BPD is so stigmatized that people are still mostly unwilling to own up to it, which is bad for them and bad for society at large. (Dani Z, a brave young woman, has several YouTube videos about dealing with BPD.) Some therapists won’t even touch the diagnosis.

It’s a rock and a hard place. Though having a relative with, say, schizophrenia, can be tragic and wrenching, that relative is mostly wrestling with his or her own demons – who don’t usually come after you. But BPD is an emotional disorder, so it manifests itself in relationships. People with BPD may act like they hate you for no apparent (apparent to you, that is) reason. It’s hard to be empathetic with someone who rages and criticizes you all the time.

And very hard to talk about the relationship without promulgating the stereotype and re-stigmatizing the sufferer. What are your thoughts?

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The Far Frontier

So I pulled out another favorite Weekly Reader book that over the years I’ve muddled in my mind with Fear in the Forest (see previous post). Written by William O. Steele (illustrated by Paul Galdone), The Far Frontier takes place at the same time, during the early settlement of the Ohio territory. Wanting to disentangle it from the other book (all those “F’s”), I gave it a quick reread.

"Likely he's a-studying ants."

In this book, a boy gets apprenticed to an old naturalist improbably named Mr. Twistletree, who’s more interested in insects and leaves than the normal manly pursuits of huntin’ and shootin’. He wears spectacles and collects feathers and leaves. All the regular folk deride Mr. Twistletree for his eccentricity, useless book-larnin’, and general lack of aplomb.

As you might imagine, young Tobe, on their year-long journey into “Injun” country, comes to appreciate the man’s knowledge and abilities. By the end of the book, Tobe has decided to pursue some serious education and heads off for Philadelphy to study with Mr. T.

Along the way, the duo encounters some actual Indians, and I was curious to compare this incarnation with Ms. Leeuw’s in Fear in the Forest.

The Cherokee are fairly peaceful, but their cousins the Chickamaugas are cruel and uncivilized. They capture Tobe and his master. It looks bad, because everyone knows the Chickamaugas will kill you “in the cruelest way — rip out your fingernails, heap hot coals on your bare feet…” These Indians are portrayed, as in Fear in the Forest, as ignorant savages.

But there’s one redeeming, or almost redeeming, moment in this book. When Tobe calls the Indians “natural-born blackhearted and mean,” Mr. Twistletree demurs:

“Listen, Tobias. Whatever happens, I want you to remember this. Indians are no more black-hearted than other folks. The white men are their enemies, and with good reason, at least the Indians think so. Whites have stolen their lands; they have taken their hunting grounds; they have given them their diseases. There’s no place for the Indian to go. He can no longer find enough game to live on. He strikes out at the white man and his ways just as the rattlesnake strikes out at whatever he believes is menacing him. It is not you and me they hate and fear, Tobias, but whatever is new and strange. And that is the way with most men, expecially ignorant ones.”

Mr. Steele was doing okay up until those last couple sentences.

Was I harmed by this stereotyping? Was I wrong to overlook it and just enjoy the plot and adventure? The Far Frontier is leagues ahead of Fear in the Forest, but still not enlightened by today’s standards.

Along that line, here’s one more reflection on these two books. Much as I liked them, they moved me (aged about ten) to write a letter to the Weekly Reader folks suggesting that they choose more girl-centered books. Feminist in the making.

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Fear in the Forest Redux

At Half Price Books a while back, I ran across a pristine copy of Fear in the Forest, an old Weekly Reader favorite of mine, complete with its original cover. I purchased it for $10.00 and intended to give it to my great-niece for her ninth birthday after rereading it myself. (I love the author’s name: Cateau De Leeuw. She grew up in Ohio. Leonard Vosburgh did the illustrations.)

My misgivings began with the first sentence of the Foreword: “There was only one way to make Ohio territory safe for the settlers and that was to defeat the Indians.”

In the next line appears the phrase “the savage foe.”

“Oops,” I thought, “I guess I don’t remember this book very well.”

Although I read Fear in the Forest a few times as a child, all I could remember after fifty years (yikes) was that Daniel, a young settler in the Ohio wilderness, feared Indians and then comes to grips with his fears. This time around, I hoped that Daniel would hate Indians at the start and then come to see them as regular people. It doesn’t happen. (Spoiler alert!) In the last few pages, a white woman dispatches an Indian with her rifle, and “Daniel suddenly found himself laughing. He did not know why.”

Daniel has an excuse to hate Indians — they murdered his father several years before. Still, it’s chilling to read the dismissive and hateful descriptions of Native Americans and their culture. At the same time, the corny pleasure of the dialogue and dialect, Daniel’s coming-of-age, the creepily threatening darkness of the wilderness, and wealth of pioneer lore made for an enjoyably nostalgic read…provided you ignore the bigotry.  

I’m not going to pass this book on to my niece. But why not?

The savage foe

I read it as a kid and saw hundreds of TV shows and movies where Indians were portrayed as red-skinned savages, and I turned out all right. I mean, I respect Native Americans, eschew offensive language, and never wear Chief Wahoo.

Was I harmed by Fear in the Forest and shoot-em-up Westerns? I’m not sure. Help me out here. How do we re-evaluate the politically-incorrect favorites of our youth?

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