Surviving the BPD Queen: A Family’s Journey Through Chaos
If my life were a TV show, it’d be a blend of soap opera and dark comedy—except in our case, the stakes are real, the plot twists are emotional, and the drama is courtesy of my husband’s ex, the “BPD Queen.” She’s a master of chaos with a flair for narcissistic theatrics and Borderline Personality Disorder behavior that’s left scars on every member of our blended family.
Over the years, her lies, manipulation, and full-blown smear campaigns have turned our lives upside down. The kids have been caught in the crossfire, my husband has been villainized, and I’ve somehow become the family’s emotional anchor—balancing between protector, peacekeeper, and the unofficial PR manager of our sanity.
I’ve got a million stories, but here are a few highlights to paint the picture.
The Highlight Reel of Chaos
The BB Gun Incident
The call started like many others: “I’m running late.” But then came the warning: “Don’t let them watch the news.” Turns out, the “Drama Queen” had made the local news—three stations, to be exact—after someone shot at her car with a BB gun at 2 a.m.
Version one of the story? The shooter was “mentally unstable.” Version two? Her kids could’ve died—despite not being in the car. Version three? The “suspect’s truck” looked suspiciously like my husband’s work vehicle, and suddenly a BB gun became a “high-powered rifle.”
By morning, my husband’s coworkers were joking about his new career as a sniper. The kids arrived terrified, convinced someone had tried to kill their mom. Even after we calmed them down with the truth, they didn’t speak to me for two days. That’s her superpower: turn a molehill into a mountain, then vanish while we clean up the wreckage.
The Pickup
She asked me to pick up the oldest from school because she had to work over. I stupidly said yes, trying to keep the peace and show we are on the same side. I’m sitting at the school and who drives past me . . . BPD Queen with the oldest. My jaw dropped and she latterly drove by laughing. I called her and asked her what was going on – she screamed at me that “not everything is about you” and proceeded rant/yell. I was quickly reminded that you can’t talk to crazy. You can’t negotiate with crazy. You can’t co-parent with crazy. Somehow, I became a villain. The youngest asked, “If she messed up the schedule?” while the oldest defended her mom like a loyal soldier even though her mom blamed her for the mix up. It’s the same pattern every time: create chaos, twist the narrative, divide the kids.
The Trip That Wasn’t Theft
One weekend, we took the kids to visit my family. Our weekend. Our time. But the BPD Queen accused us of “stealing her parenting time.” She screamed on the phone while the kids listened in. The golden child later repeated her mother’s accusations. The scapegoat asked if they had “ruined everything.” The guilt. The confusion. The heartache – it never seems to end.
The Toll of a Smear Campaign
The emotional impact isn’t just limited to our home. It bleeds into every corner of our lives.
School events were a minefield. We’ve been glared at, excluded, and whispered about—all based on lies. Teachers and parents who don’t know the full story often treat us like outsiders. The Drama Queen's stories travel fast, and once they’ve landed, correcting them feels like shouting into the wind.
In the community, we’ve been painted as toxic. She’s made it her mission to control the narrative, and for a while, she succeeded. My husband went from being seen as a dedicated dad to a cold-hearted ex in the eyes of people who never bothered to ask his side. This includes his family members. In just the last year we have had to go no contact with his mom and sister.
The kids carry invisible wounds. To this day, our oldest can’t name a single horrible thing her dad has done—because he hasn’t—but she’s not inviting him to her wedding. That’s the power of manipulation over time. That’s what happens when a child is marinated in one narrative and punished for questioning it.
How We Hold Our Family Together
We’ve learned that the only way to survive is to be intentional: with our reactions, our love, and our humor.
We validate the kids’ feelings before guiding them back to truth. We give them space to talk, or not talk, and we gently plant seeds of critical thinking:
“I wonder why that story keeps changing. Do you think maybe Mom was just really scared?”
Survival tools: We created ironclad boundaries like not responding to text that are not related to children. Everything we say can and will be twisted, we documented everything we could. We implemented the “Grey Rock Method”. This is basically boring, neutral, non-reactive when she is tempting to bait us into more conflict. This was hard when she used the oldest to do her dirty work (flying monkey). We did our best to create a safe loving home with routines to combat the craziness and celebrated small wins. Then there was therapy, lots of therapy. But avoid this mistake. . . during therapy it was suggested that I find a Facebook community for truth-telling, drama-free inner circle (we all need people). The oldest found one of my post and sent it to her mom. It fed her crazy and for the next week and half we all paid for it. My husband got the “how could you ever let a person like her around our kids”. Honestly the post only called her HCBM (High Conflict Bio Mom), no lie detected but that’s all she needed to create non-stop drama for us and the kids. Oh and it proved she’s a HCBM – I couldn’t help myself.
When the BPD Queen launches a new attack, we protect our peace. We keep to our boundaries. We stick to routines. We create our own traditions. We laugh—not because it’s funny, but because laughter is medicine. Because if we don’t laugh, we’ll cry, and we’ve done enough of that already.
This Is Our Reality
This isn’t just about one woman’s chaos. It’s about what happens to a family when truth is constantly under attack and kids are forced to carry emotional burdens too heavy for their age.
We didn’t choose this storm, but we are choosing how to weather it—together. And if you're navigating your own storm—if you're co-parenting with a narcissist, surviving smear campaigns, or trying to build peace from pieces—you’re not alone. Share your stories in the comments. Sometimes, the most powerful healing starts with “I’ve been there.”