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One thing has emerged after examining my relationship down to the Planck length:

Ultimately, it was my responsibility.

If my x had exhibited the same disharmonious behaviours at the beginning of the relationship that eventually manifested at the end, I wouldn’t have deliberated over the matter for a second.  I would have left.

If a random stranger exhibited identically disruptive behaviours I wouldn’t waste any time in deliberation either. 

Now I see clearly what occurred:

I went into a dissociative state. Almost like the mute figure in a detached protector schema mode.

There was no possible way to incorporate her madness, so I borrowed from the BPD playbook, and used dichotomous thinking to mentally survive.

In the last year, there was rarely a moment when I found her company more than tolerable.

Intimacy went into the negative range, as even seeing people on television being intimate made me nauseous.

As all she would talk about is the items she had read and on the news, how much she despised her job, how much she despised living, the pointlessness of everything, how all her workmates were plotting against her, it disincentivized communication, and her eyes would instantly glaze over if the topic strayed from her. 

Towards the end,  I’d immediately excuse myself the moment she’d start into her “Woe is me!” BPD spiel, as it was completely unendurable. This sounds incredibly callous, but after years of being 100% attentive and compassionate, listening to the same old dirge became tortuous.

I became like a marionette in the final two months. 

My volte-face made her symptoms infinitely worse, and I was definitely circling the drain. 

Both of us were wretched and wrecked at that stage.

Here’s the thing: unlike her, I knew better, and willingly chose to remain in a situation that I fully understood was incredibly harmful.  I should have exited long before the changes in me took place.  Like holding your hand in a flame, there isn’t going to be a happy outcome.

I’m coming around (slowly) to the conclusion that whatever she did, or didn’t do, is largely irrelevant.

I could have exited at any point.

I’m blessed, as I inadvertently stumbled into an ejection seat on our final night together, and my instinct for survival took over.  Watching our wreck of a relationship hurtling to the ground in trail of smoke and flames was my first moment of clarity in almost a decade.

Thank God, and I wish all of us a speedy recovery after enduring the unendurable. 

I remember my pivot point.  She texted me to ask to meet her to see a movie, after 2 days previously making it very clear that she didn't want to be a gf. I was angry. It was only a date, yet afterwards she telegraphed that I was asking her to go steady. Not at all, it was just a date to me after a few months of "friend" dating. I had my exit. She'd told me explicitly that she wasn't over an old flame, the boyfriend before her most recent who was a criminal who stole her car and against whom she'd secured a RO. Talk about  red-flag red-flag

She also told me that she HATED marriage (commitment). After we were together, she blurted that among friendly people at a backyard get together. They were shocked and she picked up on that, then walked it back, awkwardly. Her pain ran deeply, and I later found out how significant it was, much to my detriment.

A year later, after our one recycle where she forced me into therapry, and tried to send me to a couples' communication class by myself, we had our son. Despite the horrible experience of that, I agreed to help spawn our daughter. I felt that she'd leave me of I didn't agree to another child. She did anyway when the kids were 1 and 3.

The common denominator was me, and my feelings were that I didn't want to lose her. Yet it wasn't her, but my construct of a relationship and family. Is this relatable (sans kids)?

Yes, fully relatable.

From my perspective, I think that the compulsion to reconcile isn’t only the exclusive domain of these objectionable BPD relationships, but encompasses all relationships as well.  

It’s a perfectly understandable urge, as nature has decreed that coupling is the ostensible purpose for existing.  A bit of a cruel joke, if you ask me, as I haven’t been through too many relationships that weren’t either like doing hard time in a federal penitentiary, or being emotionally gored by a stampeding bull.  The last one was a bit of both.
 
Yes, I fell into the same error too: pursuing an image, but not the actual person.

In a way, I was fortunate, as I grew to loathe the real person.  In fact, I loathe her more now; however, the brain chemistry connection still keeps me tethered, and it’s really irritating the living fu*k out of me, as I just want that a-hole out of my head.

Augustine, this a healthier approach in regard to viewing the relationships as relationships and not just "BPD relationships." The more you make your way along the healing the journey the more pieces of the puzzle start to fit.

Cheers and Best Wishes!

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Thank you.  It’s difficult to gauge just how well one is progressing on one’s own.

With each piece of the puzzle, I let out a clearly audible moan, as the picture I’m finding is more than a little distressing.