Letter to the child.

[pipehitter]

I've seen you. Not often, maybe a handful of times during our two years.

In retrospect you told me more in those fleeting moments than even in our most open conversations.

It wasn't an illusion or something to manipulate me. Might have been the moments you've been more honest than ever before.

And it is you that I love so dearly. The child that was standing in front of me in the bathroom, bedroom and at the airport on the day I dreaded so much... . when I left for Europe, to fulfill our plan of repairing everything. And I inadvertently tore open your wounds that you had to fill with someone you knew for only a couple of days, just two weeks after I left.

I remember when things started to go sour and you spent hours sitting in the bathroom in front of the mirror, tears running down your face. You always told me to leave you alone and that you can't deal talking to me right now.

I always felt rejected... . because of myself. But that wasn't the reason.

I always obliged and left, scared of your cold, mean reaction would I stay. Feeling like I was the problem. It hurt.

But when we were at our worst, one night I was standing in the bathroom with you. You almost managed again to hide you were crying. You sat there, telling me coldly to just leave you alone.

But I didn't.

I just said "No. You are not doing good. We don't need to talk. But I will stay here with you."

You stood up telling me to go. I thought a huge barrage of coldness is going to rain down on me. But it didn't happen. You stood right in front of me, looking me in the eyes. That is when it hit me.

I wasn't looking in the eyes of a 27 year old tough woman. It was you, the child.

You had tears in your eyes and just looking me in the eyes, no words, no movement.

I have never heard you scream or yell. Not even when you were raging.

But that moment you were screaming at the top of your lungs, in pure panic and agony. To help you. To love you. That you don't want this to happen but can't stop it. To not abandon and hurt you. It was powerful. I hugged you. You felt helpless to me. Then you snapped out of it and told me to leave you alone, I knew this time it was time to leave the room.

I now know who you are, M.

I am sorry I came way too late to be your savior. You would have deserved not living a life like that. Full of chaos, shame, pain and fear.

I was ready to give you my all. You could have had all this. And I think somewhere deep down you know we were meant. But it was too late, more than 20 years too late.

I remember the day you showed me the year books from pre- and high-school.

I saw you and said: "You look like such a nice girl. I think we would have gotten along great then."

You looked at me. I added "Actually I thought of this before: how awesome it would have been if we had known each other from an early age on. We could have been the best friends."

There it was again. That look. At the time I didn't understand and to this day I don't understand why this sentence seemed to move you that much. And in a positive way.

On my end it was "only" a futile thought.

I love you, M.

I will write it all down. I could fill a book. It won't be a fairytale about our good times. It won't be a book about what a bad person you are either.

It will be about you M.

I love you.

[Ihope2]

This is beautiful, Pipehitter.

I know it well, my BPD spouse standing as still as a statue, with tears rolling down his cheeks.  Endless tears. Silent crying.  That damaged, scared, abandoned, bitterly lonely and confused hurt little child, hidden deep inside.  The adult person, standing still as if out of stone, with endless tears seeping out of his eyes.

Nothing we seem to say or do can take their pain away.  We want to be with them, tell them that everything will be alright.  But it won't be alright, unless they find a way to embrace healing and change within themselves... . There is nothing we can do about that. The harder we try, the more they lash out at us. It is heartbreaking.