**I will no longer rant about the events of the past 24 hours after this post. I believe it’s out of my system now**
Last night after I got to the apartment from visiting My Bride I decided I would not be initiating any conversations again. If that meant we didn’t chat, so be it. I was upset and I knew she was too. When she sent the “goodnight, I love you” text, I was very surprised. I thought pretty hard about not responding. I love her, desperately, but I’m hurting and she doesn’t seem to care. Be that as it may I responded to her. “Goodnight, I live you too.” Short and sweet. I didn’t add any of the normal banter.
I wrote a blog post stating I would continue writing and I was going to ask her to stop reading it. That post went up an hour after our goodnight texts. She sent me a text pointing out a humorous typo. I asked her to stop reading my blog. This beganeth a fight.
Please don’t write crap about me.
“Please stay away from my of, i write about what I want to write about.”
“You have no right to ask me to censor my feelings. This isn’t about you.”
Almost every post is about me.
“I’ll make a deal with you. You can read my blog and comment all you want about it. I get to sit in on your therapy sessions and respond to whatever is said about me.”
I don’t sit in on your therapy sessions.
“My blog is part of my therapy. My therapists have told me to do it. You even said it’s part of my therapy this evening.”
But you talk crap about me and I can’t even defend or clarify what you say. Not to others. Just to you.
“Comment on the blog.”
“Like I said, you comment all you want. I’ll respond to your therapy sessions.”
So now you’re going from don’t read or to comment on the blog?
“I don’t want you anywhere near my blog. You’re obviously not going to respect my request. Accordingly, I’m giving you the next best thing. Respond as you see fit on the blog.”
Thanks for the permission to comment, appreciate that.
“Please remember, you started this fight.”
I didn’t start anything.
“You texted me this afternoon very upset and it went from there.”
I wrote that your mom had termites. (the typo)
“An hour after goodnight you contacted me about my blog.”
God forbid I tell you how I feel about something you said.
“Then you got pissy when I asked you to stay away from it. Here’s the thing, I’m not allowed to do that to you. Every single time I do it I’m told how I’m breaking a boundary and that I need to talk to someone else about it. But you get to do it as you please??”
You’re talking crap about me and then using the excuse that you might be wrong.
“Please, stay away from my blog. I’ve asked you time after time. I wish you would respect my request.”
Bullcrap, you do it all the time, boundary or no boundary.
Time after time, you ask me IF I read your blog. Or DID I read your blog yet. Or DID I read the response to your post. That doesn’t sound like you wanting me to stay away. Now it’s all different.
That was how it ended. I wanted to respond. I’m pretty sure she expected me to respond.
Awhile later, I sent her some YouTube links concerning BPD. The videos covered a lot of information. What it’s like, what we feel like, how we get triggered, why we get triggered, reasons for our emotional responses et al. I explained there are things I will never be able to change. The best I can ever do on some things is to manage them and try to contain the problem. I sure as heck wasn’t trying to excuse my behaviors, I wanted her to see that I’m not making this crap up.
This morning, on the way to church, I dropped my son off at the house. I had picked up a dozen delicious doughnuts and wanted to present them. I asked if she had gone to any of the links. I watched the videos. “What did you think?” I think I have to change everything about me and you get a free pass on your behaviors. “Really? That’s what you think?” I’m just being honest.
Her sister came in and broke the tension with her new laptop. I’m a sucker for technology so My Bride saw an opening and took it. I played with it a minute or two and finished up. It was time for church. I stood up to leave. She remained sitting. “See you later.” Bye. I turned and walked out. I was really troubled so I went back.
I say next to her and turned to her so sister couldn’t hear me. “Do you really think I’m trying to get a free pass here?” No, but I think you’re excused for your behaviors and I’m not. “Your behaviors, what do you mean?” I can’t use tough love, I can’t do this and I can’t do that. A the times you sent me about dealing with somebody with BPD. I have to walk on even more eggshells than before now. I said something, for the life of me I don’t know what. I turned and left. Neither of us made any effort to hug or kiss. I walked out of the house with tears streaming down my face.
One thing that troubled me. She made zero effort at keeping our conversation private. None. It’s like whatever happens between a is fair game for sister to listen in on. I guess turn about is fair play. I write about it. The difference being, nobody on my anonymous blog knows who we are. The shame and embarrassment is minimal. When someone you know is in on the situation, and is present while it’s going down, that’s a whole other ballgame.
Am I jealous?
You’re damn straight I am.
I didn’t get that privilege during our best times. Her sister gets it during our worst? How can she allow that?
Am I being hypocritical? Probably. Again, my sharing is anonymous.
When she reads this and gets pissed off, I hope she comments instead of holding it against me. Remember, this is my THERAPY. I’m not writing for pleasure or entertainment. I sure as hell don’t get off on putting my pain out there. I write to get these thoughts and emotions off my chest. I’ve got nowhere else to go.
My Bride has told me multiple times to continue doing what I’m doing. She plans on reading and keeping her upset ness to herself. I don’t want that. If she does that she’s concealing something from me. That’s dishonesty and it’s breaking what we want to have as a foundation for our marriage.
I say this much, this situation sucks balls.