She gave me the adoration and validation and affection that are typical with the start of these types of relationships. And slowly she started having emotional outbursts, panic attacks, distrusting me, rages, gas lighting (didn't see it clearly until in the aftermath), cryptic jokes or comments that set me on edge, twisting facts around or passively manipulating the outcome of events. She'd throw herself onto the ground and scream and cry in public, in front of my house, on the street, in a crowd of people... .we would have a misunderstanding where I told her I'd need space to cool off and she'd take it hard. She'd come out of the shower covered in self inflicted scrapes. She'd bang her head on cabinets. She'd make me feel crazy for being upset that she went out to smoke or grab coffee with men that she didn't know when I told her it made me feel uncomfortable. I started to watch myself become controlling and manipulative, myself. It got to a point where she was holding on to so much of what I said or did in the past that she wasn't letting me live down, that we were having fights or panic episodes 3 or 4 days of the week. And the other days were fun or full of great sex but with the lingering promise of conflict if she felt unheard or misunderstood or under valued. Eventually we fought so much that we were both pulling back so I asked for space.
Our stories are disturbingly similar (different timeframes tho) & up until this point, it's the most similar account I've read yet to mine.
It actually almost feels like you've been writing about my life... .
The ending was very different tho. Check out my first post in my post history if you want to compare.
I still have her letters and the paintings she made for me in the adoration phase. I don't have to heart to throw them out. If anything I'd ceremoniously burn them to help it feel more closed but I'm not ready yet I guess
I still have 'em too.
They're packed far away in the attic.
The letters I have are from her recycling attempts. They were fantastic for generating FOG. Fan-f***ing-tastic.
I feel no need to dump them. They're not hurting anyone, because I don't read them.
But they serve as a reminder, of what I've come through and recovered from - and what I will not accept/tolerate ever again
'cryptic jokes or comments that set me on edge... .She'd make me feel crazy for being upset that she went out to smoke or grab coffee with men that she didn't know when I told her it made me feel uncomfortable. I started to watch myself become controlling and manipulative, myself.'
Have you ever relayed this to a female friend?
Just to gauge their reaction?
You should... .could be enlightening... .
It's hard to separate with anger because it isn't her fault. But I know I need to separate somehow... .suggestions, storieso, comments?
What do you mean by this statement? 'it isn't her fault'
Do you mean it's your fault?
Do you acknowledge that healthy people in loving relationships do
not do this to each other? Triangulation, the crytpic jokes and comments, generating fear within you of being cheated on to control you?
Do you feel guilty or ashamed for becoming 'controlling and manipulative'? Emasculated?
I think you overestimate the level to which you may be codependent.
How would you feel - if you knew that much of her emotion you describe in the closing stages, was not genuine?
That much of it was done to manipulate and control you?
To generate more feeling of Toxic Guilt & Shame?
Since our stories are so similar, I will relay some of the ending of my story, which I have not disclosed before.
On the last day of the relationship with my BPDex, before she falsely accused me of domestic violence, we were having a massive row.
She was upstairs - crying hysterically.
I went downstairs, to get outside to take a breath.
Often I would just leave if she wouldn't stop arguing or escalating - especially if she had been violently hitting her head off things, which she had begun to do with increasing frequency - particularly if I refused to be gaslit.
On this occasion, I opened the front door.
I didn't walk outside - I closed the front door and remained completely silent.
Like flicking a lightswitch - the crying stopped.