Growing up with a borderline mother - Walking on egg-shells

I grew up with a borderline mother. It's public now. She passed away a couple of years ago. I didn't cry. I was relieved. I write this on her birthday, December 25th. Don't panic now, I won't go into details. Google 'borderline mother' if you want to know more.

Growing up with a borderline mother is like walking on egg-shells. It's a very unsafe situation. I'm not angry with her, I don't blame her ... it is as it is. The person I am now is her legacy.

Because of it:

I'm still single.
I often had difficult relationships which were unsafe for me. Typical, it's the only situation I know, unsafe situations. Fear of commitment. This combined with my HSP personality is killing for a relationship.

I have a self-esteem of minus 10000.
My mother divorced my biological father: "You are like your father, he couldn't love also".
You're ungrateful, you have to dress your age, you look terrible in high heels, everybody is looking at you (negative), et cetera et cetera. Meaning: you don't live your life like I see fit.

I doubt myself.
Whatever someone does to me I end up blaming myself.

I don't like the month of December.
Because it was her birthday. Always stress. Always adapting to her. Checking how she feels, in what mood she was. Trying to rescue awkward situations.

I was a rebel. So on one end I adapted to keep the peace. Till I left home I walked around in clothes she liked. On the other hand after I left home I did what I want. This caused a lot of fights between me and her.

I always take care of other people, I don't take care of myself.
I have often too much empathy.
I have a ridiculous sense of justice.
I have difficulties with excepting compliments or help.
Being treated as a number, or being treated without respect makes me furious.

Am I afraid that I'm borderline too? No. Because I know what it is to live with someone who is borderline. I'm very conscious about that with everything I do. The needle is going the other way, often too far the other way.

I have a daughter myself. She's 21 now. My mother was a real grandmother till my daughter was about 7, 8 years old. From that moment on I had to protect my daughter from her. The only thing I can wish for is that I did a better job.