Psalms to a BPD Love

[Beware of Junk Psychology...]

There are many things a BPD partner or x-BPD touches, awakens and sometimes kills within us. Yeah, we all know it's mostly an 80/20 Rule. 80% gut wrenching masochistic pain. However, at least for me there were moments that were unique and magical. Quite possibly all fantasy, illusion and mostly temporarily fleeting words that flowed out of their mouths like dripping milk and honey. At least I fell for it. The upshot of my experience is to disconnect my ears and become more of an observer. Pay attention to what one does, not what they say. But for those moments that "seemed" real and were actually experienced it awakens the heart and soul to the gooey-ness that we all yearn for in books, poetry and movies. A compartmentalized scrap book of memories, feelings and events that I choose to place in a box, store away.

For some, we throw it in the garbage and anxiously watch as it's hauled away. Others pour gasoline on it watching it burn forever. Memories of the past that I cant keep living because it will effect my future and disconnects me from living in the Now. I gave it my all. Multiple recycles, lot's of empathy, educated myself to hopefully make a difference in a persons life and a suicide attempt because of the extreme emotions that our BPD's endure day in, day out. Yet they also inject us with this powerful drug, either by their psyche, our physical/sexual emishment with their body and spirit driving us to madness with emotions and feelings that mere mortals are not meant for. An opened Pandora's Box that while I have contained I either drop into a deep ocean or set aside under lock and key knowing it's un-weilding power over me. Past day 35 of N/C once again after another R/S and the passing days get a little better, yet there are days that kick my butt and somehow I manage to not send that email, make that call or appear at her doorstep longing for my drug of choice. Just one hit I tell myself. Those few moments of intoxicating pleasure in exchange for hours waiting for that non responded text, the planned weekend that was cancelled because that other guy or person struck the right chord and how she knew I would sit in the corner stool with my paper Dunce Cap on sitting in the corner wall waiting for her.

But at the end of the day taking the 80/20 Rule into account, if only 20% of what I was told, saw or felt from her was true... .then I must be be a pretty darn good catch if she has to keep coming back, reaching and seeking me out. As I peel back the Co-Dependent layers of my onion skin I find those cool special gifts on occasion like a prize at th e bottom of the Cracker Jack Box and find that if I can cut that umbilical chord from her trauma... . I find that what she first found in me I was a collection of common rubble that was crushed, pulverised and blazed to white hot heat. An excruciating experience yes indeed, but if I can see and grasp it from the right perspective I have been purified into a shiny bar of gold for someone worthy to behold.

There are days that I miss you. Then I remember the lies, the cheating and the collection of fools you keep around until it's time for the snap of your fingers. There are days that I want to see you again, then I remember that when I am with you getting or having everyone elses attention is more important to you. I want to hate you but the love I have for you wins the battle unconditionally. To hold you, comfort you and enjoy you on more time, then I remember that what I give is a drop of water that drips into a vessel that can never be filled. So I keep walking. I am not afraid to be replaced. What I gave was from the soul and heart. A magical door you stumbled upon, a realm of mystical love, passions and playful paradise you will never be able to open or find again.  Everyday is one more step away. When I stop to turn around I see you less and less.

[dagwoodbowser]

There are many things a BPD partner or x-BPD touches, awakens and sometimes kills within us. Yeah, we all know it's mostly an 80/20 Rule. 80% gut wrenching masochistic pain. However, at least for me there were moments that were unique and magical. Quite possibly all fantasy, illusion and mostly temporarily fleeting words that flowed out of their mouths like dripping milk and honey. At least I fell for it. The upshot of my experience is to disconnect my ears and become more of an observer. Pay attention to what one does, not what they say. But for those moments that "seemed" real and were actually experienced it awakens the heart and soul to the gooey-ness that we all yearn for in books, poetry and movies. A compartmentalized scrap book of memories, feelings and events that I choose to place in a box, store away.

For some, we throw it in the garbage and anxiously watch as it's hauled away. Others pour gasoline on it watching it burn forever. Memories of the past that I cant keep living because it will effect my future and disconnects me from living in the Now. I gave it my all. Multiple recycles, lot's of empathy, educated myself to hopefully make a difference in a persons life and a suicide attempt because of the extreme emotions that our BPD's endure day in, day out. Yet they also inject us with this powerful drug, either by their psyche, our physical/sexual emishment with their body and spirit driving us to madness with emotions and feelings that mere mortals are not meant for. An opened Pandora's Box that while I have contained I either drop into a deep ocean or set aside under lock and key knowing it's un-weilding power over me. Past day 35 of N/C once again after another R/S and the passing days get a little better, yet there are days that kick my butt and somehow I manage to not send that email, make that call or appear at her doorstep longing for my drug of choice. Just one hit I tell myself. Those few moments of intoxicating pleasure in exchange for hours waiting for that non responded text, the planned weekend that was cancelled because that other guy or person struck the right chord and how she knew I would sit in the corner stool with my paper Dunce Cap on sitting in the corner wall waiting for her.

But at the end of the day taking the 80/20 Rule into account, if only 20% of what I was told, saw or felt from her was true... .then I must be be a pretty darn good catch if she has to keep coming back, reaching and seeking me out. As I peel back the Co-Dependent layers of my onion skin I find those cool special gifts on occasion like a prize at th e bottom of the Cracker Jack Box and find that if I can cut that umbilical chord from her trauma... . I find that what she first found in me I was a collection of common rubble that was crushed, pulverised and blazed to white hot heat. An excruciating experience yes indeed, but if I can see and grasp it from the right perspective I have been purified into a shiny bar of gold for someone worthy to behold.

There are days that I miss you. Then I remember the lies, the cheating and the collection of fools you keep around until it's time for the snap of your fingers. There are days that I want to see you again, then I remember that when I am with you getting or having everyone elses attention is more important to you. I want to hate you but the love I have for you wins the battle unconditionally. To hold you, comfort you and enjoy you on more time, then I remember that what I give is a drop of water that drips into a vessel that can never be filled. So I keep walking. I am not afraid to be replaced. What I gave was from the soul and heart. A magical door you stumbled upon, a realm of mystical love, passions and playful paradise you will never be able to open or find again.  Everyday is one more step away. When I stop to turn around I see you less and less.

[LimboFL]

I haven't posted in a while, but had to comment at how sadly beautiful this is and how deeply I feel these same words:

"There are days that I miss you. Then I remember the lies, the cheating and the collection of fools you keep around until it's time for the snap of your fingers. There are days that I want to see you again, then I remember that when I am with you getting or having everyone elses attention is more important to you. I want to hate you but the love I have for you wins the battle unconditionally. To hold you, comfort you and enjoy you on more time, then I remember that what I give is a drop of water that drips into a vessel that can never be filled. So I keep walking. I am not afraid to be replaced. What I gave was from the soul and heart. A magical door you stumbled upon, a realm of mystical love, passions and playful paradise you will never be able to open or find again.  Everyday is one more step away. When I stop to turn around I see you less and less."

[DyingLove]

Dagwood... . I'm in tears.

[dagwoodbowser]

DyingLove... .I'm sorry bud. I was already there a few hours ago and in a loving way I am glad you are touched.

My last few days were in frantic pacing of rage, revenge and malice. Today I am filled with a melancholy joy. Until I found this cubby hole called BPD Family I would have likely sent my Psalm/Poem to my BPDx where it may or may not have mattered (depending on her mood of course) keeping that fleeting hope alive. Instead I share with those that matter, those that can make a difference for themselves in the way that the stories shared are my stories and have opened my eyes that I am not alone. I was not stupid, simply too trusting. So I share that which oozes from within to the poets and lovers within us all.

[DyingLove]

DyingLove... .I'm sorry bud. I was already there a few hours ago and in a loving way I am glad you are touched.

My last few days were in frantic pacing of rage, revenge and malice. Today I am filled with a melancholy joy. Until I found this cubby hole called BPD Family I would have likely sent my Psalm/Poem to my BPDx where it may or may not have mattered (depending on her mood of course) keeping that fleeting hope alive. Instead I share with those that matter, those that can make a difference for themselves in the way that the stories shared are my stories and have opened my eyes that I am not alone. I was not stupid, simply too trusting. So I share that which oozes from within to the poets and lovers within us all.

I love that poem/psalm. Call it what you will... . a tribute to us NON survivors!  It was like a spear to my heart... . in a good way.  It touched me.  I'm sorry you've been bothered badly too lately.  The weather? Sunshine? or just what others have been writing that may trigger us into a burst of emotions.  Tough call, really.  Thank you.

[dagwoodbowser]

I'm sorry you've been bothered badly too lately.  The weather? Sunshine? or just what others have been writing that may trigger us into a burst of emotions.  Tough call, really.  Thank you.

Thanks for asking DyingLove. It's a mixed bag as you can well imagine. Looking for work, sometimes too much time on my hands. While I'm no longer severely depressed I'm experiencing some shame, no guilt this time around... . due to fact that I allowed myself to walk into yet another recycle. That shame has crusted off and turned into some anger and resentment which I am working through. The other is that I'm starting to reach into the Compartmentalization Goody Bag and more of the "nice memories" are bubbling up about my BPDx and I know this makes me susceptible to getting hooked again. Though past day 30 N/C, I am soo tempted to to put myself into her orbit, but I know what those consequences will be so as you can tell I'm all over the map. However, this morning I used those positive memories of BPDx to write out what I was feeling. Hope you are doing well my friend. I've heard you speak often about your son. While difficult to do, be sure you put on your happy and strong side for him. What he becomes as a person and man with other women will be reflected by what he sees and learns.

[downwhim]

"To hold you, comfort you and enjoy you on more time, then I remember that what I give is a drop of water that drips into a vessel that can never be filled. So I keep walking. I am not afraid to be replaced. What I gave was from the soul and heart. A magical door you stumbled upon, a realm of mystical love, passions and playful paradise you will never be able to open or find again.  Everyday is one more step away. When I stop to turn around I see you less and less."

This captured my heart. I felt the pain and did not cry. The love and/or feelings many of us have are so deep. Yes, like a treasure in a box that we have to stuff away because to take it out there is so much feeling of joy mixed with sadness that it is unbearable to hold.

As I have said before on this board, I will never love another man like him. I am suppose to be the golden bar all shiny and new for another but he honestly took all I had to give and I am not sure I will or want to ever open that box again out of fear and memories.

What you wrote was gut wrenching, so true to the heart and so real. Thank you.

[hope2727]

There are days that I miss you. Then I remember the lies, the cheating and the collection of fools you keep around until it's time for the snap of your fingers. There are days that I want to see you again, then I remember that when I am with you getting or having everyone elses attention is more important to you. I want to hate you but the love I have for you wins the battle unconditionally. To hold you, comfort you and enjoy you on more time, then I remember that what I give is a drop of water that drips into a vessel that can never be filled. So I keep walking. I am not afraid to be replaced. What I gave was from the soul and heart. A magical door you stumbled upon, a realm of mystical love, passions and playful paradise you will never be able to open or find again.  Everyday is one more step away. When I stop to turn around I see you less and less.

:'( So beautiful. Thank you.

[mitatsu]

Tears may fall as love does end

Tears may fall goodbye my friend

Tears may fall fly free sweetheart

Tears may fall be brave our heart

Tears may fall i miss my wife

Tears may fall until the next life

Tears may fall twin flames will re-unite

Tears may fall our last kiss goodnight

Tears may fall passion never dies

Tears may fall but they still fill our eyes

Tears may fall two worlds did collide

Tears may fall no longer at each others side

Tears may fall is this sweet sorrow

Tears may fall but maybe tomorrow

Tears may fall to of loved and lost

Tears may fall to high was the cost

Tears may fall i'm glad of what we had

Tears may fall it wasnt always so bad

Tears may fall but smiles will come again

Tears may fall and a end to our pain

Tears may fall and i'm letting you go

Tears may fall and i want you to know

Tears may fall but i dont need your Bpd

Tears may fall i found respect for me

Tears may fall as they surly do

But the Tears that fall only fall down for you

[dagwoodbowser]

Beautifully awesome mitatsu! I totally understand the place where something like this comes from. I was there the other day and why I posted this so that whomever gets "touched" at that moment... . after a rage, or a trigger or whatever type of moment one can let those thoughts and feelings bleed into our keyboard and onto this virtual canvas instead of sending it off in a text or email to a BPDX that may or may not care depending on where he/she may be in their own lost world.