Marital Strife Archive

Open Doors

Posted January 2, 2014 By kmarrs

BPD and open marraiges Borderline Personality DisorderBy trying to put logic to this subject, you’re trying to put logic to BPD.  And I ask you: Would this site even need to exist if you could put logic to BPD?  All I know is that this is what 11 years of trial and error with my husband has led to.

 

I think what I’m mostly looking for is a best friend.  One I’m not married to, that I sleep with from time to time.  Because my BPD will screw things up with Pat if I don’t sleep with them.  And I’ll start to feel trapped with Pat if I can’t sleep with them.  N would have been perfect if he wasn’t so damaged.  I need someone who isn’t damaged like Pat and I.  Who doesn’t understand why I am the way I am but accepts me as I am anyway . I need that. That was T.  He had no understanding of BPD, just knew I was damaged but saw me as special in a beautiful way.  Pat accept me as me because he can relate.  That is a beautiful acceptance and one I will never again let go of.  Pat understands fully and goes into this with knowledge.  Please don’t ever underestimate that importance.  His importance.  Right now with J and S and A and M and T and N* I’m looking for a friend first.  A best friend.  Who I will yes, probably sleep with.  That does not take from Pat’s importance, but Pat can’t take from their importance either.  I need both, not quite equally. 60/40. Pat gets the 60.

*I am not, I repeat NOT sleeping with all those people, nor will I. They are people who have come in and out of my life over the past, in one case, 2 years. Some of them are still around, others not, others barely. They are all people I’ve come upon in my quest for friendship. Also, I’m looking for friendship, not a fuck buddy. I’m just well aware that at this point in my life I need to ability to sleep with my best friend because they can make my BPD feel special in a way no one else can. Not to be confused with making me, Karen, feel special. Only Pat has full capabilities there. That’s why he’s the only one whom was allowed to put a ring on it. And the ring is back on.

Be the first to comment

Patrick the Grey

Posted December 23, 2013 By kmarrs

BPD and Marriage Borderline

This has some controversy.  I told my mom about this and it felt like she was ready to disown me.  I think she is settling into it some.  All I can ask her for is support, if not understanding.  She doesn’t have to agree.

Neither do you.

With BPD comes black and white thinking.  You know this, yes?  Everything thing and person of importance is either white (good, without flaw) or black (evil, there is no good).  Things can start as one and become the other.  Things can bounce back and forward.  But seeing something as grey is nearly impossible.  We just have trouble reconciling that really good people make mistakes and no one is perfect, for example.  We are, all of us, flawed.

Patrick is my only grey.

But there is something exciting about those new white knights.  They show up on their gallant steeds.  They’re nice to me, flirt with me, make me want to let them make me happy.  The excitement of new love blinding me to my Grey Knight, my one truest love.

Pat and I have a lot of issues.  We’ve worked through many of them and with some counseling we’ll find and then work through the rest.  In a world where things are black and white, I need the stability of my grey.  The person whom never judges me, never tires of me, never loses patience with me, loves me for who I am, and really sees me.

The biggest threat from him is the threat to leave.  This has been hashed out.

The biggest threat from me is my white knights.  This too has been hashed out.

Right now we’ll continue to live apart.  I need my space to sort shit out, as does he.  I have some soul-searching to do.  I’m still on the journey of self discovery, and right now I still need to do that without his help.

When the time comes to leave my current home, I’ll leave it for his.  We will live as husband and wife and we’ll be happy with it.

We’ll also be open.

I won’t search for white knights, I don’t feel that need, but when one swoops in I’ll let them be in my life.  No one can swoop me away from my Grey Knight, but my Grey Knight can’t offer me the feeling of new and exciting.  My Grey Knight can’t be a new toy, though I hate that term, it helps lay out the picture.

At the end of the night, my husband will be the one I return to.  He is the love of my life.  But I will date here and there.

I’m capable of being in a closed marriage.  But I’m also capable of the BPD taking over and causing strife as I resent my husband for trapping me.  The new toy calls out to me and it promises to free me from where I’m not happy, my BPD twists the situation.

This change allows for increased stability.

And I’m not the only one benefiting from it.  He has a special someone.  I trust them together.  And I see what she does for him, that I can’t.

A friend will come pick me up, is all my kids will see.  Nothing ever in front of them.  Or I’ll go out to hang out with a friend, the kids will see.  Discretion will be key.  Should they find out, they will be taught love comes in many forms and with many possible requirements and how to have an open mind.

But in a world where they would have to choose between mommy and daddy living together but mommy having special friends, or mommy and daddy living apart…  The house will be run with love and by happy parents.

The world should learn to judge not for they too can be judged.

Be the first to comment

BPD Borderline Personality Disorder and LossThis year…  To say I have lost is such an understatement that it’s almost laughable.  Or would be if I wasn’t spending my free time curled up into a tiny, tiny ball crying and raging.  I assure you I’m not laughing through my tears.

Some of this loss has been by choice  but too much of it has been by force which is, I suppose, how loss typically happens.

It might as well have been by gun point that my aunt was taken from us a couple of weeks ago.  We learned of the cancer prognosis about a month before she was taken.  No one really saw the prognosis coming and we were given just enough time between prognosis and passing to realize there was no preventing it.  Cancer, is an asshole.  But, I suppose we know that.  Knew that.

The “loss” of my best friend of 12 years in the opening months of this year was of my free will.  It was a conscious decision that I made on the spot but that I’d been building up to over the months prior.  And while her character was never much of a secret, I was made privy to its true nature over the last couple months.

You (she) will never, ever read this but I would like to say now what I couldn’t say as your relationship with my estranged husband came to an end:  I’m so very truly sorry that the timing of my mental break down was so inconvenient to you and your desire to throw your beliefs aside and get laid.  Because really, my mental break down really has been inconvenient to us all.  I suppose you’ll have to go and find another fuck buddy.  If you need help finding one, may I suggest the depths of hell where your selfish, inconsiderate, whoring soul belongs.  You’ll find your people there.  And they won’t care how truly hateful and negative your depraved existence is, inside and out.

Bitch.

Maybe we won’t add that friendship to the loss category after all.  We shall call it my escape.

The other friendship loss also wasn’t much surprise.  They say some people enter your life and are meant to stay there until the end.  Some come into your life and their role is brief.  Maybe it’s only meant to last a few weeks.  Maybe a few months.  A few years.  Or, in the scheme of life, even a decade or two might be considered brief.

N, as I shall call him out of a true respect for his desire to remain unknown to this world as a whole, I thought was meant to be a life long friend.  I still hurt over the loss of what I thought it would be.  But through my tears of the loss of a friend, I do see the role he played.  He was my secret keeper and companion in the days leading up to and following the end of my marriage.  And while he and I were only ever friends and never would have been more, I was able to examine who he was and my response to him and start to see glimpses of what it is I seek in a romantic companion.

The list is much longer than what I will say here, but for a starter, I will never, ever again find myself in a relationship with someone who doesn’t read.  My joy in sharing books with N and him sharing books with me… Him handing my books that weren’t about, “You’ve read such and such so you might enjoy this,” but was instead, “I really enjoyed this book and I’m excited to share it with someone who reads,” was, I think, one of my (many) favorite things about that friendship.

The idea of being able to add a romantic aspect to that, with someone else of course, is something I will no longer settle over.  I look forward to the day I find myself in bed with someone, sitting side-by-side reading our respective books.  Maybe we’ll even be reading the same thing so we can talk about it as we go, careful to avoid spoilers.  Both people in that bed understanding that the lights can’t be turned out until one more chapter has been read. And one more chapter is never just one.

N, I don’t really expect you’ll read these words but please know while our friendship exploded in flames and anger, I will forever thank you for the role you played in my life and the gift you gave me of sight.

I’ve already written on the end of my marriage.  The loss of tucking my children in each night and waking to their fighting each morning.  I do not wish to dwell on that here.  It’s been written about, but I can’t fail to mention it.

The loss of my fine motor skills, as I type on a computer keyboard plugged into my laptop because the keys are slightly bigger and have more space between them allowing for easier manipulation as I write, my fingers struggling to keep up with my head and heart as it is, has been the hardest to swallow.  Special pens bought for work in order to have a better, more secure, more comfortable grip.  Each of my coworkers knowing that while we are forever stealing one another’s pens, mine are off-limits.  It isn’t a matter of being my favorite, it’s a matter of me being a liability as I need to be sure and reassured I didn’t miscount the money my fingers struggle to manipulate.  I never count just once, I’ve learned to compensate, how to count it, how to manipulate it to be sure I balance each night. But my fingers, my hands, my fine motor skills are being taken from me as I fight tooth and nail to not lose it all.

As I drop my camera, not the point-and-shoot, but my darling Nikki due to a compromised grip as I simply lifted it to move it over 2 feet.  A special strap is already attached to help with grip, any photographer wanting that security no matter the state of their hands.  But who attaches a strap to move something 2 measly feet?  And Nikki fell, my portrait lens busted, and I still, months later, can’t bring myself, can’t find the will within, to learn if my beloved Nikki is still in working order.

As my fine motor skills trickle away, my sanity, stability, tumbles.

 

To Be Continued

Be the first to comment

Yes, They Stayed

Posted August 16, 2013 By kmarrs

Depression BPD Borderline Personality DIsorder BipolarLook, the decision to leave the kids with Pat was impossible and yet obvious. I grieve not waking to their fighting and kissing them goodnight every night, but it was a decision that had to be made with logic and not emotion.

First, while I am biologically their mother, he has been their primary caregiver from day one. He knows them better than I do, he has attended to their needs more than I have. I would be taking them from the parent that has raised them.

Financially, he will get an increase in government aid this way that he wouldn’t otherwise get.  This may well make the difference between a roof over his head or not.

What do I do, have them live with me then put them in daycare 6 days a week while I work?

No, they are right where they should be.  My heart didn’t want to leave them with him, but it was sound, though painful, logic.  I’ll see them all the time.  Custody will be shared.  He will never deny me access.  It’s simply where they live.

It hurts like hell.

But the right thing is rarely easy and very rarely is the easy thing ever right.

2 Comments so far. Join the Conversation

The Words

Posted August 7, 2013 By kmarrs

love-and-DivorceI’ve spent all week so far telling people I see daily, one by one, what I did.  I tell them as I find the breath, the power to get the words out.  See, in comparison leaving Pat was easy.  I wasn’t happy.  I haven’t been happy.  I was not going to ever get magically happy.  So I put us both out of our misery.  It’s the bit that follows that crushes my chest in, taking away my ability to breath.  My ability to get the words out.

I didn’t just walk out on my husband.  I walked out on my kids too.  I will see them all the time, yes.  But never again will I tuck them in every night and wake to them every morning.

I need to walk away from this post now.  The rest will come.  I just need time.  It’ll come in bits and pieces as I find the power to move fingers across keyboard.

2 Comments so far. Join the Conversation

Alone

Posted August 5, 2013 By kmarrs

love-and-DivorceIt’s just after 11 Sunday night and I’m laying on the floor of the spare room at my mom’s under the ceiling fan, using the breeze as a sensory based self soothing tool, trying to find the motivation to unpack.

I walked out on my marriage today.

I’ll talk about it later. I can’t right now. Maybe not tomorrow either.

1 Comment. Join the Conversation
cousey_jeni@mailxu.com