Non-BPD intro and some reflections on my experience

All--

I've read through a number of the threads here and would like to say thank you to all who have posted with compassion and respect. I would also like to share a bit of my experience in the hope that someone out there may benefit in some way. I sincerely hope I do not offend anyone--whether by word choice or phrasing. That is not my intent.

I am a Non-BP. That is not to say I'm perfect--I am not. I have my own issues and challenges, the most relevant here being that I am prone to depressive times.

I recently finally ended a serious long-term relationship with a woman who suffers from BPD. I do not say she suffers from BPD lightly--two of her counselor/therapists both noted it, and two friends of mine (one a psychiatrist, one a PhD psychologist therapist) both commented on how well she seemed to fit the diagnostic criteria.

As seems to be the case, everything was wonderful at first. We met, went on great dates, fell in love, moved in together, talked about having a child together (I already have one), marriage, etc. After we moved in together, though, things started to happen. One of the most telling was when we had a good friend of hers over for dinner. At the first chance he had, when she went to the ladies room, he leaned over and said "you seem like a good guy. Take my advice now--RUN." Yikes. That was shortly before she started inconsolably sobbing in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, started sleeping with someone else--the same guy she had cheated on her ex-husband with--and on and on.

We broke up right before Thanksgiving, but wound up back together in that halfway sort of way. I then found out in January she had been cheating, and broke off, only to give her a second chance on a number of conditions. I also talked to several of her former friends, who all told me what had REALLY happened with her ex-husband, etc., and who all told me to run, including the woman she said was her very best friend ever--who had cut contact with her a year before. Our second chance lasted until around early May, and then we did the usual break-up sort-of thing. I just recently finally got my stuff out of her storage unit, and may now finally be done.

But not before three separate incidents. The first was a panicked phone call on a Sunday, saying she was having a nervous breakdown and that I was the cause--could we meet? Sure. That Thursday, she showed up and walked in the door attacking me, only to switch to trying to kiss me, and then back to attacking, in what my therapist friend said was textbook "splitting." Then, on the Saturday of retrieving storage, I went with a friend (as she did) and it was fine--no drama, nothing. Then, the next day, she stopped over to drop off the last couple things I had. Only this time she started out trying to snuggle up--to play nice. When I refused, she split back to my being the demon . . .

What do I think I learned? While it is impossible to generalize from one person, the pattern of her behavior fit most of the diagnostic criteria. She was not someone to fly into a rage--she went the opposite way and would refuse to answer any question or to talk at all. From that, if you are involved with someone like that, if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck--it probably is. Second, at least with her, and I would infer with others, BPs may not have any idea of what they are doing. Third, while I don't know if she can get better, I think others can--you need to determine if you really believe who you're with wants to get better--which starts with acknowledging that they may need help--and make a honest assessment of whether they can get better. The woman I was with couldn't get to that point. Finally, you need to take care of yourself and do what works best for you. If that means leaving, no matter how painful that is, do that. If you choose to stay, be aware--really aware--of what you are dealing with.

I loved her dearly--she could be bright, fun, witty, warm, and wonderful. But ultimately, it was always all about her, and there was an excuse for everything. She cheated because she was on a drug called cabergoline. She lied about the dumbest things. She tried to paint people into corners and enormously frustrated when they didn't let her. She'd accuse me of things I didn't do, project unbelievably (at least unbelievably to me), and was, as I wrote in a short story, the leaky bucket that could never be filled.

Now, looking back, I have no more rancor towards her--although I certainly did. As much as I loved her, I had to leave. I hope she gets better, and part of me is sad that I won't be there to see it if she does. Having lived with, and loved, someone with BPD, I can only say I wish everyone here the very best.