Twelve years. 12 horrible Christmases. Last year at this time we were having a religious discussion that turned into a hysterical argument and personal attack. He ended it by getting in my face and screaming "I don't like you!" (like a little kid) and leaving saying "I'm going to my girlfriend's house" (no, of course he doesn't have a girlfriend). This was followed by six weeks of silent treatment. When I finally asked if we could talk I asked if he wanted to aplogize for saying any of those hurtful things. He said he had nothing to be sorry for, he doesn't like me, in fact he never loved me and the only reason he married me was because he was afraid to be alone. Said he felt nothing for me when we have sex... .could be anybody etc. Okey doke. So I do what I have to do and decide I am just going to keep my distance. A couple weeks later, while we are in the car going to a dinner party (and almost there) with our 2 little kids in the back seat he says "we are going to put the house for sale and when we move you are going to find your own place. at this point it's either divorce or suicide."
to my credit, I had learned after years of this, not to flip out. I stayed calm, we discussed it for a few days, and told him i'd give him a divorce if he wanted it. A few days later he comes home from work, says, 'kids get your shoes, we're going out for dinner', and then later on we make love and he pretends nothing ever happens. All is suddenly well again and for a couple weeks I think I'm losing my mind because he is acting eerily normal... .and calm. So weird. Then he confesses to being on Prozac. OH! Now I see... .
SO for the first time in many years I had hope! He is medicating himself... .he must care about me somewhat to do that! And we have a pretty swell 9 months together. And then he decides that I was the one who wanted him on meds (what? I didn't even know you were taking them) and he is sick of taking my crap, so he ain't gonna use them anymore. Wellll... you can guess. Within two weeks he is splitting me like crazy, paranoia, crazy accusations, rages. The whole bit. So that goes on for a good month, culminating in him disappearing for 24 hours and having no understanding, despite my protestations, that that is inappropriate behavior. AN impasse is reached (as always). Another week of silence, and I discover he is taking his pills again (I count them). And has been for a few weeks now. And the edges are filed off again. But in the meantime, these last two months, I discover BPD... .and ohmylordy does he have it in SPADES. And I realize that he is right, he doesn't love me and never has. And he won't change. And we are going to have to divorce at some point. Hm.
SO for two months I have been emotionally distant and we haven't spoken to each other much or touched each other at all. But when he stops taking these pills again for one reason or another, and sees that I have changed. That I refuse to engage or JADE. That I won't stand for the arguments or yelling in front of the kids. That I won't beg, or apologize or grovel anymore. ooh mama, it's gonna be ugly.
I am waiting for that shoe to drop. What will he do? Only other people with BPD loved ones know that dread, and I'm so glad I can vent it here and somebody somewhere is nodding along, saying, "I get it, hon. It's like waiting in the basement for the tornado to come. Will my house be left standing? Will it kill me this time?"
