My own great apartment

[Depression = 72% of members]

Here I am sitting along and it is effing great. The sun is shining in and it splashes all over the room. The room is mine and no one can leave his boxes there as they pile up for months.

I tried for 25 years of fixing myself before I realized I need to be fixed, nor did I need my husband to fix me.

I am a very vivacious. I also had a crappy childhood that made me suicidal. Then I married a great guy for 10 years until he turned into a crappy guy for reasons that elude me... .except I think I was totally the wrong woman for him. But then he married me because of that.

I reminded him of his crazy mother. And there is no doubt that when a man chooses three crazy women, it's the woman who has the problem. I know he did his best. When we were breaking up he cried in frot of me for the first time.

I married my critical mother and I married the father who abandoned me. I married the intellect I loved in my mother and the wonderful sense of humor of my father. Every man I have ever dated have been swhorter, like me dad. Tall guys just intimidate me.

The thing that I can't seem to forgive him for is that he knew of my every weakness, the things that broght up my PTSD. And he did them anyway, I think because he really wanted to hurt me. I hurt him and he wanted to hurt me back.

Of course I never meant to hurt him and he knows that, even said it. But he did it on purpose to me simply because he was still stuck in teenagerdom or maybe the terrible twos.

He is a child really. We spent many years in marital therapist with FOUR different therapists before I really he and I had different goals. I wanted us to learn to communicate and he wanted to prove to the therapists that he was right and I was wrong, I was crazy and he was a hero to put up with me.

The man competed with me for everything, like we were siblings. Now that I think of it, he is 50 and still can't get over sibling rivalry. At one point thought to myself--WHAT ARE WE COMPETITING FOR?

His ego could not stand it if I was better at anything. Even terribly small things, like who makes the best coffee. There was nothing too small for his ege was worried about. He said that I was the critical thing (WHAT?) SO I could barely say anything becsause I was too critical.

Supposedly (and I let him think this) he was going to decide the state of whether or not he wanted to be married to me. After 10 years of him not knowing, I prepared a better life for myself, which got him

E... .N... .R... .A... .G... .E... DD!

He said:

I would die without him.

No body wanted to be my friend.

I better think about this because he had the health insurance

I tryu not to talk about this too much because my brain neurons will get accustomed to going in a certain direction and I will remember everything in vivid paints and I already did tghat with my parents.

Which gets me back to my apartment, which I effing love.

It has four enormous windows that spill sunlight over the bed and the whole room. It faces the street in a busy part of my little town. That feels great because I work at home. I do marketing and public relations, but I work for the ad agency at home.

I was home all the time and got depressed. I really did not know how people got the energy to build houses and bother to get dressed for church. Why did women take the time to put makup on and off? Why did people make meals when you could grab a leg of a chicken you bought   and eat it without heating it up?

I left. I found the sunshine.

[RakalZiyal]

Here I am sitting along and it is effing great. The sun is shining in and it splashes all over the room. The room is mine and no one can leave his boxes there as they pile up for months.

I tried for 25 years of fixing myself before I realized I need to be fixed, nor did I need my husband to fix me.

I am a very vivacious. I also had a crappy childhood that made me suicidal. Then I married a great guy for 10 years until he turned into a crappy guy for reasons that elude me... .except I think I was totally the wrong woman for him. But then he married me because of that.

I reminded him of his crazy mother. And there is no doubt that when a man chooses three crazy women, it's the woman who has the problem. I know he did his best. When we were breaking up he cried in frot of me for the first time.

I married my critical mother and I married the father who abandoned me. I married the intellect I loved in my mother and the wonderful sense of humor of my father. Every man I have ever dated have been swhorter, like me dad. Tall guys just intimidate me.

The thing that I can't seem to forgive him for is that he knew of my every weakness, the things that broght up my PTSD. And he did them anyway, I think because he really wanted to hurt me. I hurt him and he wanted to hurt me back.

Of course I never meant to hurt him and he knows that, even said it. But he did it on purpose to me simply because he was still stuck in teenagerdom or maybe the terrible twos.

He is a child really. We spent many years in marital therapist with FOUR different therapists before I really he and I had different goals. I wanted us to learn to communicate and he wanted to prove to the therapists that he was right and I was wrong, I was crazy and he was a hero to put up with me.

The man competed with me for everything, like we were siblings. Now that I think of it, he is 50 and still can't get over sibling rivalry. At one point thought to myself--WHAT ARE WE COMPETITING FOR?

His ego could not stand it if I was better at anything. Even terribly small things, like who makes the best coffee. There was nothing too small for his ege was worried about. He said that I was the critical thing (WHAT?) SO I could barely say anything becsause I was too critical.

Supposedly (and I let him think this) he was going to decide the state of whether or not he wanted to be married to me. After 10 years of him not knowing, I prepared a better life for myself, which got him

E... .N... .R... .A... .G... .E... DD!

He said:

I would die without him.

No body wanted to be my friend.

I better think about this because he had the health insurance

I tryu not to talk about this too much because my brain neurons will get accustomed to going in a certain direction and I will remember everything in vivid paints and I already did tghat with my parents.

Which gets me back to my apartment, which I effing love.

It has four enormous windows that spill sunlight over the bed and the whole room. It faces the street in a busy part of my little town. That feels great because I work at home. I do marketing and public relations, but I work for the ad agency at home.

I was home all the time and got depressed. I really did not know how people got the energy to build houses and bother to get dressed for church. Why did women take the time to put makup on and off? Why did people make meals when you could grab a leg of a chicken you bought   and eat it without heating it up?

I left. I found the sunshine.

[joeramabeme]

RakalZiyal

  Welcome to the family.  Sounds like you have a pretty good understanding of what happened in your RS and have emotionally moved on.  Was your ex diagnosed as BPD?  How long where you two together?

There is a lot of great information on this site that helps understand BPD and associated traits.  It has helped me understand my own past relationship.  This is definitely a good place to get plugged in with any questions you might have.

[Shale]

Welcome!

I get it completely. Your apartment I mean. When I got out a few months ago I deconstructed the entire apartment we had shared as though I was moving out, reported any maintenance issues (she was a little rough on things, especially during rages, and I was ashamed to have maintenance deal with some of it until she was gone, when I could just admit what happened and not have to worry about saving face for her or myself for being with her), and then remade it the way I'd always wanted it. Everything is perfect.

And I haven't heard a door slam or a glass break in a while and it is awesome.

And the cooking... .oh man the cooking. I was almost a chef in another life and my love affair with food is deep and lovely. I have a friend or two over at least two or three times a week and cook like I'm on camera and I don't have to worry about anyone's food issues, and we eat and talk and recreate instead of sitting and watching mind numbing television and I don't have to worry about anyone's social anxiety and I don't have to hear anyone's reports later on how much all my friends are horrible people out to ruin me and steal me away from her.

What I'm trying to say is welcome to your time in the sun. It was always there, and now we can see it. It won't always be easy, you won't always be happy, but no one is going to slam a door on your face then spray hairspray on you and try to light you on fire then run out the door and come back six hours later with new throw pillows and a smile and those eyes that say "I bought you these, we're cool now right?"

Welcome!