I was inspired by this post on A Glass Half Shattered.
Pat and I were friend for a handful of years before we were ever more. I was already dating one of his friends when we met so being more was never an option. I kinda knew he had a crush on me. I remember conversations involving him kidnapping me. But I figured it was just me ass calling his name and didn’t put much more thought into it. I was taken, why would I think more of it? In the meantime I just enjoyed my friendship with a very loyal friend. He was there for me. He watched me graduate. He came to my graduation party which I now know must have been hell for him. (He has social anxiety and rooms of people, especially strangers, are a total nightmare for him.) But he suffered it for me.
The summer after I graduated I moved in with that boyfriend (Branden) and things fell apart. Quickly. Within a span of about 3 months I learned my boyfriend (ok, fiance) was a liar, a cheater and the thief. By the end of the summer I confided in my dear friend Pat that I wasn’t happy in my relationship and I was ready to move on. His response was something to the effect of supportive and oh by the way as soon as I was single he was making me his.
I thought about it long and hard. For a couple of days even. (Hey, two days is longer than it should have taken me.) But my decision was easy to come to. I didn’t dump Branden for Pat. I already knew things couldn’t continue on with him. But it was also fairly obvious that I was ready to take the next step with Pat. The two events just kinda happened side by side.
Pat and I dated pretty seriously for a couple of months. Seriously as in Pat already lived in the house Branden and I lived in, so all I did was switch bedrooms and boyfriends. There was more than just us three in the house, but the situation wasn’t pretty. I eventually got thrown out of the house (it was a matter of who fucked up first, me or Branden because no one enjoyed the situation though they were rooting on me and Pat) and Pat moved us in with his Grandmother and family. As we were moving Pat informed me he was proposing as soon as he could afford a ring. Less then a month later I found out I was pregnant with Thomas. I never did get my ring.
We got married when I was about 5 months pregnant. It was the simplest ceremony possible. We had only immediate family as guests and got married in a soccer field. We went to the olive garden for dinner. That was it. The honeymoon included a trip to the computer expo and the zoo. We didn’t care. We just wanted to be married.
All of it, every last bit was impulsive. But I wouldn’t have what I have today without those impulses. On the surface, I don’t have much. But even I know to look deeper. I have a husband who loves me, worships me, and not just for my ass, though my ass does help. He puts up with my mood swing and rages when no one else could. He even does his best to understand them. He has done almost as much research on BPD as I have. He is always there for me, and I honestly believe he always will be. And I have two amazingly incredible little boys. My boys keep me going. They are my reason to live when I think I have nothing else. Their love is unconditional and my love for them is unstoppable. With them I’m learning the type of woman I really am and am becoming the type of mother I always wanted to be. I have a long way to go, I know this. But I am getting there. With the love of my kids, nothing can hold me back.
To this day I feel bad for how I left Branden. But I can’t feel bad for the decision I made in general. It wasn’t a healthy relationship and it shouldn’t have lasted as long as it did. I missed out on some wonderful possible dates by being with Branden for so long and he had very little to offer me. With Branden I was in love with being in love. Nothing more, nothing less.
But with Pat, it’s so much more.