For the first time in months, I lost my temper a couple of days ago over something insignificant. And as to be expected, that caused my husband to react in the typical BPDish way one could imagine.
Later, when things had calmed down, we talked. At first, he was blaming and stonewalling, but then we had an actual real conversation.
He pointed out a pattern in my behavior that I was unaware of, and I’m not certain that I do that, but I can see how he interprets it that way. What bothers him is “scolding”.
To me, it’s merely stating a preference and desire that he does things in a way that makes my life easier. For example, when I asked him to take his wet clothes out of the washer promptly, instead of leaving them for days, that was “scolding.” Fortunately he doesn’t do that any more, but I had to make several requests, over and over, so I can see how he might have felt scolded.
Furthermore, he stated that my “pattern” included
justifying. Oh no! I’m JADEing.
Once he explained what he noticed, I thought it’s not really justifying, but rather explaining, which I’m fully aware that I often do.
In the case of my example, I told him that the washer will mildew with wet clothes and also it prevents me from using the washer, unless I deal with his laundry, (a slippery slope I’ve learned since more and more tasks will end up as
mine.)
As far as patterns I’ve noticed with him, he has tended to shut down discussions and arguments by stonewalling or saying, “You hate me,” “I’m a piece of
,” etc.
I asked him about that and he agreed that he often goes into self loathing when feeling shamed.
I never meant to shame him, only to assert what I wanted and ask for his cooperation, but he interpreted it as an attack on who he is.
Digging deeper into our patterns, we both grew up with parents with personality disorders. My mother was a pwBPD. His father was a malignant narcissist. I realize that people often exaggerate how bad their parents are, but I met his dad near the end of his life and he was about as nasty as he could be, even to me, a stranger.
What dawned on me is that even though my mother constantly criticized me, I still felt loved. He felt devalued, diminished, hated.
My lightbulb moment—the criticism I felt was annoying and hurtful, but didn’t diminish me as a person. The unkind words and behavior from his father cut far deeper.
The conclusion I reached was that anything that sounded to me like criticism was felt by him as shaming, and no wonder with his background.
This certainly makes it more difficult for me to assert preferences, but now that I understand, I can be much more mindful when I need to do that.
