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Once upon a time a man met a woman and quickly fell in love. She made him feel complete and they seemed like a perfect match.

But things were not how they first seemed.

The man soon discovered his wife had a large basket in which she kept an enormous and inexhaustible supply of eggs.

Several times a day, she would suddenly and unpredictably lob an egg at him and expect him to catch it. His job was to dive to the left or lunge to the right – to ever so softly catch the eggs and prevent them from breaking.

The man was bewildered as he had never studied egg catching before, nor did he realize it was part of his job description.

Nevertheless, the man did his best. He read books about egg catching and posted on egg catching forums online.

As a result he got better, but it was never enough. Sometimes there would be too many eggs flying his way at the same time – and one inevitably would get dropped. He wished he had more than two arms – or eight like an octopus.

Sometimes he got frustrated that so much of his time was spent egg catching, and he lost his patience, swinging a bat at the incoming eggs – or even sometimes tossing one back at his wife. Splat!

Sometimes he would catch the egg, but his lunge to the right wasn’t executed perfectly. It would have been nice if he’d done a triple pirouette and bowed at the end. The man really needed to do better.

The man was told it was his fault that so many eggs were getting broken. He became nervous and unable to relax. Who knows when the next egg would fly his way? As a result he tiptoed around the eggshells scattered all around him.

The man often worried about the future. “Even if I become an Olympic gold medal egg catcher,” he thought, “what happens when my son is a rebellious teenager? He’ll need to be sent to remedial egg-catching classes after school or our household will be thrown into chaos.”

In quiet moments he would often think “imagine how much easier life would be if my wife stopped throwing the eggs in the first place?” His wife told him this was entirely possible, if only he would stop saying things that incited her to throw eggs. She also told him many of the eggs flying his way were just figments of his imagination. They were pseudo eggs.

The man tried setting up boundaries. “Don’t ever throw an egg at me again!” he yelled at her. Splat! Eggs would rain down on him from the heavens.

One day he came to a realization. “What if it isn’t my job to catch the eggs in the first place?” he wondered.

The next time an unidentified egg came flying his way, he looked up from his novel and just smiled as it sailed by, and exploded all over the wall.

His wife was shocked. “Aren’t you going to catch my egg?” she said nervously.

“I’m worried about how you’re feeling right now,” he said. “It must be so frustrating when you feel like you have to throw an egg at me to get my attention.”

“However, I am unable to catch your eggs anymore. In the future you’ll have to clean up the broken ones yourself.”

The man’s wife got very angry and rained eggs upon him once again. She told him he was the worst egg catcher she had ever seen.

Next time she got angry he did the same thing. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so upset,” he said looking up from his lounge chair as the egg went sailing past.

This time his wife lobbed just three eggs at him instead of five. He let them all fly by and took a walk while she cleaned up the mess. He didn’t even think about eggs while he was walking. He just listened to the tweeting birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Little by little the man noticed his wife was throwing fewer eggs at him. And strangely the basket of eggs looked to be getting smaller.

Eggs would still come flying his way from time to time. Sometimes he would catch them, but he no longer regarded this as his duty.

He no longer tiptoed around, avoiding the eggshells on the floor.

I wrote this as a journaling exercise after an especially conflict-ridden weekend with my wife. It was an attempt to imagine how things might be better. Does anybody else find it therapeutic to get your thoughts on paper?

Globalnomad:  Nicely written - are you an author?  I enjoyed the parable and find that it parallels my journey of dealing with my uBPDw.  Things really can get better when we change and stop trying to catch all those flying eggs.  What were your weekend conflicts about?

Enjoyed that |iiii

Takes the angst out of things when you turn them into humorous analogies.

Your story highlights than nothing changes until you stop playing your own part in the dysfunctional dynamic

Thanks Wrongturn. I am a writer/editor by day but this was more an exercise in self therapy :)

The weekend conflicts were the usual conflicts about nothing. My wife didn't sleep well on Friday night as the baby was crying a lot. Neither did I. At about 5am she asked me to take him out of the room so she could get a break. I was happy to do that but told her I needed to go to the bathroom first. This triggered a major rage, as apparently no delay of any sort was acceptable. I was too tired to validate well. The rest of the weekend was more of the same... .

Oy, sleep deprivation is tough for anyone, and BPD makes it much tougher.  I can relate to the "do it now" phenomenon.  My uBPDw is the same way... .when I was constantly walking on eggshells, I would drop everything to comply with any request she made.  Since I started implementing boundaries around abuse, I have been able to tell her I'm busy with other things or to wait until I wrap up something else first.  Boundaries are key - hang in there!

This is so great!

Thanks Wrongturn. Yes, boundaries are the main thing I'm working on at the moment. It's a work in progress!

Thank you for that, globalnomad, it really made me smile and I needed that today!

I'm glad it made somebody smile. We all need a laugh sometimes :)

This was really good. Fantastic