Remember one of the court assessors asking me if I was sure I hadn't watched too many horror films at one point.
Aargh :( 
Nah, I got to the point (after yeeeaaarrrs of therapy) where it was important to me to SAY my stuff to mum, in a way that wouldn't make her storm out. It was very hard work but I'm glad of it. I was curious to see what she'd say. Net result: I'm now convinced she does, indeed, have a PD. She's not the inhuman bastard my father was, but she's totally fucking insane. She heard me - job done for me. She feels she's "done her bit" for me - job done for her, which leaves the rest of our lives pleasantly blame-free, as far as it goes.
I'm contemptuous of her. I resent being in this pickle because I had the misfortune to be born to a pair of nutcases. Like you, I get VERY angry about abuse, unthinking or otherwise, and will rpobably never get off that particular soapbox. We have another similarity, too - my granny loved me unconditionally, and is probably the reason I am able to work this out. She was bonkers as well - she raised a psychopath, after all - but she loved me as children should be loved :)
I have to say I'm struggling to envision a life full of people who're only averagely mad! I imagine I will know far fewer people, and perhaps less intimately, but it'll be nice to stay off the rollercoaster.