Apologies for the long blogs but I want to get the whole story out as fairly as possible.

Sometime before I quit the dungeon we found a place and moved in together.

For the first six months or so it was probably the worst it could have been. It was like I moved in with my mom. And not in the good, let me bake you cookies and clean after you, way.

SO needed me to be at his side 100% of the time he was home. And when he has out driving he expected to talk to me 8-10 times every day. If I was tired or couldn’t think of anything to say he would rip into me. He’d tell me I should just move out if I’m so miserable. “You were happy when you were playing with Bobo. Maybe you should call him up? I’m sure you’d be happy then!”

SO is a big smoker, but he isn’t allowed to smoke in the house. That meant that every time he smoked a cigarette he would drag me out to the garage. I got tired of it pretty quickly. When I told him no he got really angry. I got so confused and upset and started bawling. Instead of giving me a real apology he’d say, “I guess you really don’t want to be with me.” “No. I do! I just don’t want to be dragged around like a little dog. I have my own things I want to do. I just want you to leave me alone sometimes.” “But I made you cry…” But he didn’t look sad or upset. He looked amused.

I felt close to despair. I felt like everything I thought once was a lie was really the truth. That mantra I told myself as a child, ‘I am nobody. My purpose is to be laughed at. My purpose is to be inferior to others. I have no value except the entertainment others can derive from my pain.’

I came close to moving out several times during the first six months. It just became too awful. Wake up, call SO, couldn’t get excited about anything, he says something passive-aggressive, I tell him to *&^& off, we start arguing, later that night I’m up till 1am we’re screaming at each other, then we apologize, go to sleep, start again the next day.

The worst was when he came home and just started packing his stuff and hauling it out to his car. I was done. I couldn’t handle it anymore. “Go” I thought, “Just leave. I don’t know what’ll happen. Maybe I’ll move back in with gramma. Maybe I’ll find a roommate to cover half the rent. Whatever happens it’ll be better than this constant up-and-down of emotions.” I just felt broken. I had invested all my love and self-esteem into this one person and he just keeps throwing it away.

I put my head down on the table and waited for him to finish and leave. Then he stopped. He was hurt I wasn’t trying to stop him. He asked me if I wanted him to stay. I said yes. And he stopped packing and began putting his things away.

I was both relieved and despondent. I actually was disappointed he didn’t go because I’d finally gotten to the point where he had hurt me enough that I could let go. But I was relieved because even though he broke my heart he was the only person I had.

End Part IV

*This story will get better I promise*

I'm no expert on the PDs but I'm thinking Borderline?