Marital Strife Archive

BPD, Asexuality, and Open Marriages

Posted March 13, 2015 By kmarrs

Ok so I’m asexual and yet I need an open marriage?

I’ve touched on this a couple times, but I might as well complete the series with this.

See, when I fall, it’s for who a person is.  Their personality.  Character traits.  Inner being and beauty.  As such, I tend to fall for my closest friends, especially if I white knight them.  Now, as I’ve gotten older I’ve done this less and less because I’ve learned that more often than not it’s a BPD reaction, and not true love.  Oh, I mean I truly love the friend, but I’m not in love with them.  However, when I’m caught off guard, and I’m not happy with Pat, which happens in a marriage with two mentally ill people, I tend to deny to myself that I’m only white knighting someone, and throw my marriage to the dogs to try to be with them.

By opening the marriage, I’m less apt to sacrifice what I have with Pat, and more apt to listen to his logic and reason.  The logic and reason of someone who knows me all too well and isn’t emotionally attached to the person I think I love.  If I do fool around some, it’s within the guidelines of the marriage.  Though, this happens less than you think.  However, asexual or not…

I’ve never found myself to be much of anything.  So when someone pays me the right kind of attention when I’m at my lowest point, I tend to, I don’t know, want to please them.  And how do men want pleased?

There is one, and only one, noted exception to this.  One case that is true love and not BPD love for me. (Besides Pat, I mean.)  And while the rules of the marriage being open are actually a case by case basis, this person will always be the exception.  He is the man that… when I think of him my chest tightens.  I can’t breath.  He is this man.  He was a close friend I really did fall for.  True love because he is beautiful.  The most beautiful soul you could ever hope to meet and trustworthy with a fragile heart. He cares about me more than just about anyone ever has, and it’s always been for the sake of caring about me, not to get anything out of it, except maybe mutual caring.

Aside from him, really, I don’t know that I care to be out there with my heart or sex life.  I don’t feel the need for an open marriage on my end, because no one else outside of my marriage can compare to “him”.

Meanwhile I’m also participating in an open marriage because in the event of Pat’s lady being in town, I honestly want him to be able to be with her.  I recognize that she can take care of some of his needs that I can’t.  Being asexual and all.

Either way, this isn’t all so I can sleep around.  I don’t do that and never have.  I have no opinion on others who do/have.  It’s just not who I am and therefore not why my marriage is open.  I’m too asexual for that.  But I’m also too BPD to not need an escape hatch that doesn’t cut me off from my marriage.

I’m done hurting my marriage for stupid ass BPD white knights when Pat would rather I just flirt and get it out of my system anyway.  Besides, for all the white knights I’ve had, I’ve only slept with 2 of them in 31 years. (This isn’t counting Pat whom wasn’t BPD love but was indeed my only other documented case of true love.)  The other one I actually dated for a couple of years before Pat and before I realized what an ass he was.

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When Sexualities Collide

Posted March 11, 2015 By kmarrs

Sexuality and BPD and marriageThere is of course a downside to the match made in the stars, that is Pat and I.  Can you guess it?  Ah yes.  I’m asexual and he is not.

Now, to be fair to me I am Asexual-grey so I do feel a sexual attraction to my husband, but my sex drive itself is hit and miss.  More than he’d prefer, that’s for sure.  I can’t blame him.  He is a fully functioning sexual being.  There is nothing wrong with being asexual, but it can complicate romantic relationships where the other person isn’t also asexual.

So, he works on patience with me and learns what can trigger my sexual appetite.  Not to take advantage of me, but to broach the subject.  He has always taken no for an answer.  Always.  Him trying to tempt me is never abusive nor nearing anything that could hint at rape.  However, he also knows that a 20$ or even a 10$ handed to me to go treat myself to books usually makes me very thankful.  I mean, if you’re going to buy my affections, books is the only way to do so.  Or maybe shoes.  But no.  Pat is the only one that can pull off that trick without receiving a throat punch.

In addition, I work on evaluating my situation.  Am I horny?  Yes?  Have sex.  No?  Ok, well does the thought repulse me?  Yes?  Don’t have sex.  No?  Consider having sex.  I don’t have to be OMG IN THE MOOD to be willing to show physical affection to my husband.  I just have to be willing to show physical affection.  In a sexual way.  There are various degrees of compromise; and sometimes we start and I’m just not into it, can’t get into it, so we stop.

But if he is willing to be patient, I’m willing to try for sexual more often.  I don’t find it degrading or him being disrespectful.  If he refused to acknowledge my lack of sexuality or pressured me into it when I’ve said no, that would be an insult.  This isn’t even me caving to my wifely duty.  This is me loving my husband.  And sometimes I agree to love him physically even if I think I’d be ok never having sex again.  When it comes down to it, well, if nothing else, it’s great exercise, and it’s safe as we’re both clean, can’t get pregnant, and in love.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating for him at times that I can’t keep up with his desires.

For the record, this is one reason I suggested (didn’t agree to but suggested) an open marriage.  Granted, he only has one woman at this time he’d consider being with aside from me, and she isn’t local.  Should he meet someone local, we’ll reassess.  Mostly because I’d need to trust her and her intentions with my husband.  His unicorn, as we call our outside of the marriage loves, would never ever hurt me in being with him.  So I can trust them both fully, and this is essential.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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