And all the crazy relationship dynamics, the dysfunctional behaviours are just a result of old wounds and childlike coping mechanisms. It's no longer a loving relationship but one big ping pong match between old traumas.
Extremely well put, WoundedPhoenix. I am printing this out and sticking it up somewhere! Maybe I'll make a collage of the insights and advice I find here as a big art project for my bedroom.
Which is actually not a bad idea at all! Wow.
I also find myself remembering, in kind of hazy flashes, instances of bad behaviour from me - subtle invalidations, things I did deliberately to decrease his sense of security in the relationship when I felt he was becoming 'lazy' somehow. My own needs for being the centre of attention mixed up with an awareness of his waxing and waning adoration. Something was off from the very very start. It was intriguing, then wonderful, then weird, and then worrying. And then followed months and months of ... .euch
My point is that, yeah, I did a lot of things that were not only not helpful to someone so fragile, but actively bad for them. That realisation came about a year in and after a confession of cheating. That nearly destroyed me, but made me think hard about what kind of person I'd been in the relationship. I went back in to the fray to 'be different', to address my own fears of commitment and engulfment, and saw more and more similarities between us.
I also wondered, if, even with my history of reasonably stable relationships, I could possibly have BPD. I seemed to have some of the traits and maybe I was causing him such stress with my demands for what I saw as equal and fair support in the relationship that he was crashing because of me.
I have to remember the things he told me right at the start, (woven in with all the delirious things people discovering each other and falling for each other say):
that he had a porn addiction that he felt intensely shameful about,
that he had many episodes of paranoia thinking even his family were all against him,
that he had tried to kill himself,
that he had cheated in every single relationship he'd ever been in,
that no relationship had ever lasted more than 3 years,
that he was insecure and jealous,
that I'd not yet seen his petty and tit for tat side,
that he had a tendency to drink far too much and 'cured himself of this',
that he'd screwed up every job he'd ever had,
that he was easily swayed by others,
that he had a self-destructive streak he didn't understand,
that he was prone to depression,
that he got a sense of elation sometimes that would wake him out of a sleep and he had learned that it was just his mind spinning on some kind of chemical and he had to ride it out,
that he could 'dial down' his emotions because then he felt better and that he realised it affected the people close to him but that he didn't care,
that he knew he was oversensitive and hyper-vigilant to rejection, even the most cursory kind from someone he didn't even know,
that the only thing about himself he felt confident about was his intellect,
Of course, hearing such things right at the start just made me think he was exaggerating and also that if he was *aware* of these things, he must be working on them! I was even more charmed. He often said he was determined not to make any of the known mistakes. He tried really hard for a while, I know now how hard and how resentful it made him, ultimately, that he had to work so hard to be a way that was natural for him. I remember him saying more than once that I could have no idea how many smart comments popped into his head at every second and how hard he worked to repress them and not say them out loud.
I couldn't imagine what 'smart comments' they could possibly be. I found out in the last 9 months of the relationship, when he let them fly. Dismissive, callous, cold, crappy kinds of things to say, usually at the time that I was most vulnerable and trying the hardest to say something carefully and responsibly and fairly and bla bla.
His colourful family history mainly includes an abusive, crazy father who definitely sounds as if he had BPD. He died about 3 or 4 years ago. He spoke about him a good bit when we first got together, but always with a kind of black humour, a rancour, that I found confusing. I questioned him gently then, whenever he brought it up, but never got a single layer deeper. I just felt v protective of my ex when I heard these stories, protective of the vulnerable little boy he was and so sad for the awfulness he had to witness and experience.
Imagine, I thought that my love would heal him a little.
Anyway, the things he knew and stated about himself were all true and I should have listened, because each point is just a false glassy surface of extremely roiling waters of a bunch of subterranean rivers. No wonder I almost drowned exploring all those fascinating secret waterways.
But what I really should say is that I could make a list of things like that about myself. Maybe that would be a good exercise, I don't know. I am pretty sure that I'd find that whatever coping mechanisms I have learned and rely on are, in general, less confusing and damaging to another person.
Does any of this make sense? I hope so, I didn't mean to barge in here and then not make sense