Yesterday marked 5 months since my wife moved out. In some ways, today, I am back to square one.
July was fraught with agony, panic attacks, withdrawal, lies and revelations of things previously unknown during my 25 year relationship. I remember little else other than pain. After this time, I instituted a NC/LC approach and only dealt with my wife where matters pertained to our children or divorce. It worked very well. I also began taking Lexapro and felt stronger each day with hope for the future. Sleep became normal, work became more productive and others were seeing it in me.
Less than a month ago - out of the blue - I received a text from my wife blaming me for the loss of communication with our children, S19 & D22, and a veiled suicide threat - "Thank you for pulling the trigger". I showed it to them. They told me to ignore it. I sat on this info for a few days. Concern started taking center stage so I decided to visit her, as I know she hasn't been working and no one might really know if she did harm herself. She was hesitant to see me at first but our talk eventually turned into many hugs, tears and apologies from her. There was even an admission that she has BPD. I left her apartment that night to head to dinner with a psychologist friend of mine as hopeful as I'd ever been for my wife. Beaming with hope. Filled with love for this person I've shared my whole adult life with. She actually asked me for information on a local clinic that offers a DBT program. The next night we had dinner together, made love and started talking about reconciliation, DBT and couples' therapy. I thought that a corner had finally been turned. That she was finally self-aware and humble enough to want to change her behavior and repair our marriage. It was after sex that I found out about my replacement (it appears it took 10+ sexual partners to find the next acceptable caretaker). He does not live in the area. Push/pull ensued for two weeks culminating with me seeking therapy from a new therapist. The therapist asked to see us both less than a week later. My wife agreed. We talked for hours and decided to request a 90-day stay of the divorce just this past Tuesday night. Our court date was the following morning. We laughed and joked like old times and started to plan our new life together. Court opened session and we sat down. The judge asked my wife what she wanted to do and she said "I want a dismissal". I was floored. My response was "We didn't discuss this." The judge asked us if we wanted to step outside and talk about it for a few minutes. I told her I wasn't going through this again and asked her if she was
certain about this decision. She said yes. We walked back in, stated our intentions and and the judge threw it out as if this didn't happen. We had a happy breakfast together and she was to break things off with the replacement when I left for work. I didn't hear from her the rest of the day, which was a huge red flag.
In the middle of the night I awoke to find a phone message that my wife left me from the county mental facility. She was "involuntarily detained" but didn't tell me why and phones were shut off by the time I got the message. I had to wait until morning to get a call from a nurse at the facility explaining what happened. She drank, took several Percocet and cut her wrist, sending a picture to the replacement. Apparently he called the police and she was cuffed and transported by ambulance, none of which she remembers. When I was finally able to speak with her later that day, she said wanted to be with me. My reluctance was growing so I asked her for further proof by allowing me access to her cell phone account password so I could call the replacement and get the truth out there and verify what had actually been transpiring. He seemed a gracious and kind man, as I had expected, and is a widower who had taken care of his sick wife for a year while she slowly died. My heart went out to him for his suffering and for his future suffering with my wife should they choose to be together. He was oblivious to the fact that we were seeing each other again and thought he was being monogamous with my wife as she had told him that she would "never" be with me again. During visitation hours I visited her this past Thursday night, with her still insisting she had made a huge mistake with cutting herself and that she wanted to be with me. I told her I would pick her up after work on Friday to which she agreed. Again, I was deceived as she had taken a cab home upon release and went to her apartment to call the replacement.
When I arrived to see her, I was subjected to what I have read is called
transient sociopathywww.lovefraud.com/2008/03/27/the-borderline-personality-as-transient-sociopath/ which pwBPD can exhibit from time to time. I have seen it before, the last being when I was discarded in July. It's a cold, dark place to be and inhuman. Amidst my pleas and crying for sanity, she plucked eyebrows and took a bath. All the while blaming me for being controlling and that she needed nobody in her life. Devastating to witness. I have not spoken to her since and have not heard from the replacement. I have offered to be there to answer questions for him and to see her together if he so desired to help get her into treatment immediately. My guess is that they have reconciled and he will eventually suffer greatly.
I am not writing to the board tonight looking for pity, sympathy or empathy but to, instead, write myself (and anyone else who cares to read this) a blunt reminder of how awful this illness is to pwBPD and anyone and everyone surrounding them. Of how awful it is to follow what you think their actions are over their words and yet have it
still not bring peace to your life but instead suffering on a scale even a non wouldn't think possible. I have no idea what I'll do next except start the divorce all over again. It's also my belief that antidepressants may have given me a false sense of security and insight into what my wife is still capable of. The benefit is keeping the lows manageable.
The small flame of hope still burns for her in a crazy fantasy world where she's recovering and wants to have a healthy relationship with a loving partner with a mostly incredibly enjoyable history. The rational me is tired. Tired of the lies, tired of the false hope, tired of the insanity and the uncertainty. The only thing I can rely on with her is pain. I know I must move on but words are easier than actions.
Best wishes to all and thanks for reading,
bi