nothing compares

[Blimblam]

sea,

   

thank you thank you thank you... . Shortly after reading what you wrote I had an epiphany.  It all connected, in the depths of my shadow, my core wound emerged love wrapped in a blanket of sorrow behind a wall of shame.

Im sorry mama that my love can't heal you. I'm right here mama I love you. Why are you running away? Don't leave me mama I love you. Can't you feel it? Why does it hurt? I love you. Why does it hurt mommy? Don't go away mommy I love you... .

Why do you hurt me? I love you. Im sorry but I cant see you anymore mom it hurts too much. Im sorry.


---

I can't hate my ex she is my soul mate. My muse. She showed me myself to myself. 

[christoff522]

I was drinking a sip of coffee and a thought of her child like wonder and how happy it made her when I did something sweet for her.  I just don't know nothing compares.  I know we say they say the same things to each person but I really think mine was letting a lot of her façade down with me and I was seeing a lot of the real her. 

A lot of our relationship was based around not having to put on a show and to be our true inner dorks that we are afraid of being because everyone expects us to put up a show.  She showed me a lot of vulnerability because of this.  It also pissed me off because she would put on a mask for strangers and "friends."  She even talked about how she felt she had to do that with them.  She showed me her inner crazy world and I loved it.

She was honest with me.  The triangulation was there it was all there but so was the honesty so it didn't bother me.  She trusted me. She kept trying to draw me into the karpman triangle but I would tell her the bad guy wasn't bad who was her dad.  She was making steps to break out of the triangle even, it was blowing her dads mind.  Her dad really liked me because of all this.  I wasn't trying to be her therapist at all.  She really began to trust me on a level I don't think she had ever with anyone before.  It was just about trust, her trust of me and me not playing the game and pointing out the game to her when she tried to play it and expressing disapproval had her trying other ways of being.

Maybe their is no other way it could have possibly ended maybe not.  It is a spectrum and I think she is on the healthier side of the spectrum.  Ive been around a few of pwBPD and she is a special one a gem among them.  At the same time is when she hangs around narcs she falls deep into the disorder. What I had with mine was special.  probably 80% of my relationships with women in my lives have been with narcs and borderlines.  This one was special.  I also met her shortly after she had been abandoned by her ex and she was doing some self reflecting something I like to do also.

I wasn't trying to rescue her or save her I was just not playing the game and she was growing from it.  Eventually she sucked me into it.

The thing is that feeling I got nothing compares.  NOthing in my life compares to that.  It was like I found the missing piece to the puzzle.  I did she was the missing piece.  What ever it was she provided was what was missing from my life.  I cant hate her for that.  Seeing her changed a different person hurt so bad.  Everytime I feel good I think of her it is sick.  Every moment I have of happiness I am wishing I could share it with her.

She went to rehab and she came back a different person.  I never saw that girl again.  We resumed our relationship but she was a different person brainwashed by the program. All the progress she had made was gone. She put her trust in Narcs again.  I could always tell when she was under their influence of a narc and it was never good she would be deeper into patterns where she would hurt the people who would go to the ends of the earth for her.  sabatoging her relationships with the people that cared the most about her.

This pain is the worst feeling of my life.

I'm really sorry to say this Blimblam, but we all felt this way, I thought that I was the only one she ever trusted, the only one getting through. I thought she was trying to deal with her issues. I thought that listening to her going on about hating men, hating her dad, how her mum is a whore - I thought all this was her opening up to me like she never had to anyone else - she always said "I've never told anyone else this".

But the truth is she had, your lady had. The self awareness about their disorder is not them actually being self aware - its another part of the disorder, its an excuse, they can hate themselves more, blame themselves more, and be victims - and its still not their fault. They will never acknowledge an actual disorder and do something about it. It's so rare its negligible and its SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY smart people who can logically see how their behaviour is abnormal in the context of others and decide to so something about it.

Your usual BPD will just blow up if you tell them they're 'crazy'. When your BPD was acknowledging this stuff, it was part of the game, she was just saying yes yes, but in the back of her mind was thinking "he's gonna leave, he's gonna leave".

That's ultimately all BPD is about my friend, them finding every reason under the sun for you to leave, then leaving themselves before you can leave.

[sea_of_wounds]

highway:  your post didn't sound like rambling at all.  It was poignant and expressive.  It revealed the pain that we all understand, and it framed it in a unique way:  a spiritual experience.  Looking at it this way, a small crack in the pain forms, letting some light in.  

Changing:  Yes, that wild oscillation between the many masks, the many moods---sometimes in the span of seconds.  Nothing overlapping---everything split in bizarre, clean lines.  The range of human emotion is complex and deep---but it seems a BPD can only feel one thing at a time, and when it suits them, when it gets a result they need.  I think they can conjure up emotions like an actor.  It is fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

Do they need to cry?  They can cry on cue.  I still want to believe the shuddering sobs were real--I think they feel real to a BPD---a storm that comes and then goes--leaving no lasting effect.  It's not a hurricane---it's a bizarre ghost storm that just breezes through their soul, and dissipates if nothing happens as they feel it should.  Or they switch to another emotion.  Or switch to no emotion.  

And yes--objectifying everything--animals, people.  I remember one night I accidentally ripped a small corner of a drawing B's son had made.  She seemed more distraught and upset about that rip than how much my heart was breaking as I was literally packing up her belongings and helping her move.

Blimblam---     It's all about healing these deep, deep childhood wounds.  This is why so many of us are here, suffering as we are.  Let it out--cry and cry and cry.  Tap into that lost little child, and soothe him in the way he was denied growing up.

My T once asked me if I could go back in time and see the hurting, scared and alone little girl that I was, what would I do for her?  I was not allowed to express emotion----retreated to closets, to my room, to my books.  Was told not to feel what I felt.  If I could walk up to that little girl, I would wrap her in my arms and tell her it is ok to cry, to feel scared, to hurt.   I would give her the love and compassion she so desperately needed.

You need this, too.  Your ex ripped that away time and time again, refusing to give the most basic of human kindnesses to you---maybe only when it suited her, only when she could get something in return. But never just for the sake of compassion, freely and willingly given out of true love and concern.

I recall one day I asked B for a hug.  I rarely asked for anything, scared it would make her cut and run.  I just felt like I needed to be held.  She flew into a rage and told  me I was "violating her boundaries."  She was yelling, red-faced, and furious.  She ran out of my room and squealed out of my driveway like a bat out of hell.  I was left sitting there, absolutely stunned.

I was so enmeshed in the connection that I wanted more than anything to be redeemed again in her eyes.  I didn't want to be the evil "violator."  And so when she left a Halloween treat on my doorstep hours later, I forgave that outburst.  I forgave so much.

We have overlooked and forgiven more than most people ever could.  All of us here---working so hard to love ourselves enough not to return to that nightmare of pain.

In my darkest times, I try to visualise someone loving me unconditionally, and my loving them equally in return---how healing it would feel, how real, how soothing.  

It exists.  I know it does.  Right now it seems a million miles away, but it exists.  

There will be someone who will want to hold us, soothe us, be there for us, as much as we want to be there for them.  Reciprocity.  Mutuality.  No more one-way streets.  No more hurt and shame.

[Blimblam]

I needed her to show me myself. she needed me to feel whole.

I never meant to hurt her. She never meant to hurt me.

I loved her the best I could. She loved me the best she could.

I was lost she showed me the way home.

She's my angel. My muse. my soul mate.

[christoff522]

Blimblam,

You are discribing a Typical BPD RS, I'm saying this in love brother, you are getting lost.

I will refer to my ex

Childlike qualities are arrested development BPD traits ( around 3 to 5 ).

She cannot feel real empathy because her emotions are too chaotic, it's more like sentiment or seeing her own wounds in other people animals etc. when my wants of needs were expressed after the idealisation stage she would not consider them.

Read everything about why they cannot love. They cannot love

The infidelities, both emotional and physical, the triangulations, should be a good indicater that intimacy and trust is a foreign island to her.

The narrative of her life and RSs is already prewritten, I was one of the babysitters/object/actors in Her play. What you did or didn't do was near irrelevant, what was playing her head and emotions was the real RS to her.

It's not other people, it's not the 'system', it's not culture or society, it's not the sun or the moon or what stars are in what house, it's not bad luck, it's not her boss, it's not you, it's not what you did or didn't do. It's just her.

It probably was her mum and dad too, mental illness and PDs run in families.

She was just like me, shared my values, my dreams, my love of dogs and having a family, my love of comedy, my love of music and fun. She shared my empathy for the lost and hurt and could be trusted... .this is called mirroring. She made herself a perfect 'love object'.

She didn't love the dogs she insisted we get, no it was to make sure I would never leave, she abandoned them to death and adoption, never asked or thought of them again. As cold as a psychopath. Once i stopped feeling pity for her I could see her for what she was, a husk, with tormenting emotions flying around her insides unable to attach to anything, chaos. Hardly human. Crisis as bonding. Painting the world with her cartoon like emotions. Control and abuse the pleasure in her life, then shame that she hates and abuses, then flight to alcohol or drugs or a fantasy affair ( not love but dark eroticism ).

This is life without love, this is people as objects, this is darkness and despair, this is self hatred. The best is a crazed manic escape from the feelings or punishing others (  child bumps it's head and declares... . "naughty chair" ) or an odd emptyness/numbness. She loses the past, the present and the future.

You were trying to save her, probably to save yourself. You are attracted to BPD waifs for a reason, childhood reasons. How is it you can be around someone with this disorder for so long, where did your muscles come from that could carry their burden and their abuse for so long?

The missing piece of the puzzle isn't held by her, but it is missing. Find it in yourself.

She was not brainwashed. The 'person' she was never existed. This is the worst part. The 'real' person you saw behind the masks for other people, was just the mask she wore for you. You just noticed the other masks she wore, but not her mask for you. They get so exhausted, It's really energy depleting being fake all the time.

I am rambling, forgive me.

Be good to yourself and

Look after yourself brother

It gets better, they have messed you up, it takes time

Wow brother, you said everything I wanted to say, better than I ever could of said it. God bless you man,

[Narellan]

Quote "  The 'real' person you saw behind the masks for other people, was just the mask she wore for you."

WOW... . 

[Changingman]

I truly think that as I've studied the Personality Disorders, I had some trouble settling completely on BPD, because at different times she displayed more HPD or APD or NPD or just plain paranoia. I think because these are all coming from the same core problem, each is a different solution.

At it's base I think NPD is the most relevant, the lack of true empathy, the false front, the grandiosity, hate and fear disguised as love.

BPD is like failed NPD, they have trouble with spluttering, stalling, crippling emotions, a NPD feels near to nothing, a psychpath (APD) feels zero. But central to all PDs is a lack of self/numbness/emptiness and because of this a problem relating to others, truly aliens even to themselves, a world of objects.

I can really see how strong the image of the 'false front' strangling the 'true self' is. Once the 'False Front" strangles its own 'True Self' isn't everyone else now game for this crime.

Isn't the terrible pain we feel on this board like, some 'thing' got hold of our insides and crushed/emptied us?

The first 3-4 months are harrowing after these RSs, IF we are lucky enough to find the answer of PDs, we are husks, destroyed, annihilated, dissected, we have been fighting with a demon, it hates us.

It took me 2 hideous RSs to finally find out about PDs, 3 including my mother.

There is truly only one revenge from this, ignore them and find yourself again.

The verbal, physical, emotional, financial and sexual abuse... .Why?

It is an attack on our true selves, that's why it hurts so much. We are not machines, each part of us makes a thing much bigger than the parts, together we build a community bigger than ourselves, let's call it our Spirit or Soul.

I refuse to become an abuser, to poison everything a person/community is, I refute their view of the world, this was walking through hell slowly while being told it is heaven. They hate love, peace and happiness. They are right, they poison everything. Is it a surprise they run? "IT WASN"T ME" they scream. Jesus! get a grip.

No Contact, Brothers and Sisters they want to dine on you then keep you in the fridge just in case they get hungry later.

[Blimblam]

wow chang,

powerful post! you sound inspired.  but wasn't that their gift to us all along? inspiration.

if yours was comorbid HPD I am sorry I can not stand HPD.

Like you my mom is BPD.

did you have the breathrough moment? the somatic connection to your wounded child?

[myself]

Many of us also mirrored and projected. Seeing what we wanted, avoiding the painful. Playing a game of bad patterns. Holding the 'good' pieces together so it made an image we felt better being with.