Curt: I think you're onto something pivotal when you address the anger in our culture as a character disorder. I'll leave it to others to weigh in on that, as their opinions will be more informed and will be accompanied by helpful links.
What I can say, from personal experience, is that Borderline people are really hard to deal with, especially if that person is one of your parents. I'm sorry for the on-edge, often-afraid childhood your mother's dysfunction caused you and your brother -- which lasts forever, on one level or another -- because I had the same childhood. My mother, who spoke only in beautifully dulcet tones in public, was a time bomb behind closed doors, who could burst into spontaneous combustion, not of herself but of whomever was in her sights, in a heartbeat.
My sister and I, early on, became the adults in the household, attempting both to circumscribe our own behavior to avoid another attack (futile, that) and taking on the role of enabler/protector to keep the dysfunction a secret.
I've struggled with the issue of forgiveness, which I've been told countless times is the key to peace of mind. It always struck me that forgiveness is not something that can be decided into being, but rather must happen, spontaneously, when one of two things happen: a) when the person doing the irrational wounding actually recognizes what he or she has done, takes responsibility for it and then sincerely apologizes; or, b) failing that miracle, when the grooves realign in our own minds suddenly, years later, when we least expect it.
I was lucky. When my mother died, it fell to me to sort her belongings for further distribution. In that process, I went through her books, letters and poetry. And in them I found the essential person she was privately -- by which I mean not only when she was not in public but when she was alone.
That person, Curt, was someone I yearned all her life to know. She was insightful, intelligent, compassionate and, incredibly, empathetic. She was also someone who hated herself because her ethical standards were higher than the behavior she exhibited.
After reading her margin notes, her box labeled "letters written but not sent" as well as her poetry (which was truly remarkable) I felt an aching sorrow that she lived her life without being diagnosed and therefore without recognition that she had a mental disease rather than a demon within. It grieves me to this day that she died in torment, both physical and mental and emotional.
I am surprised, however, that you conflate Borderline with Narcissism. I would appreciate the links that document that, as my own experience was that my mother wanted to love and nurture -- and succeeded some of the time -- but was terminally handicapped by a chemistry over which she had no control because she did not know what was wrong.
What she knew was that stress that for others was bearable, was unbearable for her. She was right about that; it was. She should never have been a parent; rather, with her ferocious intelligence, she should either have been a businesswoman, or, better, a reclusive poet with an acolyte somewhere nearby to fetch and carry to relieve her of the rough minutia of life. She had such an acolyte, in a sense, in my father, who worshipped her beauty and physical grace, her intelligence and insight, but who resolutely refused to see the negative and therefore, to do anything about it.
My father was a handsome, successful, caring man of great quality who lived every day of his life according to a set of personal ethics that were laudable. Unfortunately, his singular failure was his inability to recognize, because that would force him to deal with what he was dealt in the "goddess" package he "won."
May they both rest in peace. They both gave everything they could, according to what they accepted as their obligations according to the mores of their time.
I would wish for them that they could read about and comprehend their familial "folie a deux," but only if they could also hear our understanding of the difference between what was known then and now and that, in the end, it matters only if we repeat the crime. Therein, as you suggest, lies the danger.

God, curt; and wendy. I just wrote a long comment, and the screen blipped blank, and it is gone. I need to sleep soon, and I will write tomorrow. In the meantime, I will say I am familiar with what you are saying, both in small and large ways.
My heart swells for you both, and how you had to try so hard to adapt to all you did. Of course it follows you, as it follows so many of us. Please accept my love for both you new Virtual Friends, and sleep well.

I was nine or ten. I awoke and came downstairs to the kitchen. There was Grandpa peering into the empty fridge, shaking his head.

Grandmama was in the bedroom, I could hear my folks crying and railing.

All I recall is that Dad went away for awhile. We would stay with Grandmama from time to time.

I was twelve when the poor drunk died and for the following six years that I stayed in my home, my mom spent most of her time in the bedroom, drunk.

Because of social security and Vets Benefits, my mother could basically stay drunk and pay the mortgage. Grandmama did procure a court order eventually and took my youngest brother to live with her.

It is Grandmama who is my specter. Irish Catholic, stern...despised her grandchildren because mumsy was trailer trash as far as she was concerned.

But God saved me from having to live with her and I was able to do what I wanted to do most of the time.

But the specter is there. Never quite goes away.
ha!!!

And my kids do not see me as much of a parent either.

The mental health world has only recently been waking up to the concept of deprived bonding, mother-infant, or father-infant in some cases. Peopple have thrown the term around for a long time, but the actual absence of it hadn't jelled into patterns of behaviors and results. It's now known as reactive attachment disorder, and it's a booger.
In the best scenario between say, mother and infant, there is physical closeness and nurturing, along with feeding and diapering; all needs being met with consistency. The bonding spurs brain development and soul development, growth in all ways, i think. Absent the bond, which can be from parental alcohol or drug dependence, emotional inability of the parent or parents, a baby will cry to let someone know he/she needs something, and maybe not only is that need not met. but something worse might happen. The theories i have read say that with needs unmet, an infant can almost get to adapt by (in some sad way) almost accepting pain as usual, and normal. As children, unattached kids can behave in ways that elicit anger or punishment; they seem to have limited or no consciences, and the more obvious kinds of parenting don't succeed. They usually don't make the connection between cause and effect: "The glass fell off the table," rather than "I dropped the glass."
Lying comes naturally, and they aren't in the responsibility loop. As far as I can tell as the understanding of this syndrome grows, these kids (can) turn into borderline personality types. One of our adopted children was thus; she had been badly abused before we foster-parented her, and eventually adopted her. It was a wild ride, and still is; parenting never ends.
I am not a professional mental health worker of any sort, just a parent who sought for years for help for my/our child; the mental health world was almost zero help, partly for not adding up the "symptoms" to a diagnosis, and partly because there are so few known helps for it. There are re-bonding helps, it's unclear to me how effective they are. I hope by now that these kids are recognized; back then, the parents' hair would be continually on fire, and were often blamed for crappy parenting skills, even if they weeren't the originators of the broken bonds. In some cases the bonds can be broken at crucial points due to illness of a mom, etc.
I have noticed that to different degrees, lots of us seem hampered by unattachment to varying degrees. I even think in my layman's mind that Dr. Benjamen Spock's bogus, but well-intentioned advice on child-rearing, might have led to incomplete bonding. He has apologized for some of his credos. I'm going to press submit so i don't lose this again.

Thank you; all of you for such moving, painful, but ultimately enlightening words. I have nothing to add, but I am taking much away.

Thank you again.

Curt,I am glad you managed to mostly get past your upbringing. My parents had their failings which were brought on by who they were as well as the times they live in. There were certainly "rocky" patches in my upbringing that were caused by things both within and out of my parents control.

I think a lot of how we deal with it has to do with ourselves. For instance, my brother tended to become a recluse, to scold me for getting upset and crying when I heard my parents fighting, and to bury himself in his room away from others. Whereas I tended to be more of an extrovert and look for things I wasn't getting at home from friends and neighbors. I was lucky in mostly being able to find it.

We both grew up, and both have issues with our own kids, me with one of my own, my brother with an adopted son of his wife. I don't doubt that there is much I can do better, but I also know that there is a lot outside of my control that I can only try to mitigate the damage of. I find it interesting that, as different as my brother and I dealt with family issues, that our kids have the same issues with lack of responsibility, not doing well in school despite above average intelligence, and other issues which seem to be age-related as well as generation related.

I agree that some people shouldn't be parents, but I also think most parents do as well as they can. I worry about this coming generation quite a bit, as they have very little stability and hope for the future, as well as rather distracted parents. How they will deal with these challenges depends on how well we are able to prepare them despite our own failings and circumstances. It's a challenge always, but possibly some times are more difficult than others. For sure some circumstances are harder than others, and yours sound like they were pretty grim.

I try to take away what my parents did right, hope to pass that along, and not do too much harm. I would think that your mother would be pleased and proud of having a son like you. Thanks for this blog.

Great blog, and great comments. These stories are so painful to hear (or read), but talking them out is a major step toward healing.

I've been dealing with mental illness in our family for the past three years, and we're finally able to breathe easier, no thanks to the "system" or the insurance companies.

After two long years of misdiagnoses, we finally found a county agency that worked feverishly toward wellness and not the bottom line. They worked around the system, and didn't care how they did it. I didn't, either, and I still don't. I consider them angels of mercy.

There is still such a stigma against mental illness, but by far the hardest thing is the diagnosis. There is so much guesswork that goes on until someone finally reaches a diagnosis that leads to the right meds.

These stories are heartbreaking in that nowadays there are miracle meds that can help the people you're talking about--and in turn, their families. They are incredibly expensive in most cases, but there are ways to work around that, too. When we talk about health care, we need to include mental health care. If we saw it as a priority, we might see a whole different world.

I don't know why it's still being ignored or under-diagnosed.