Tag Archives: mental abuse

Walking on Egg Shells

Amazon Prime is one of my lucky pleasures I have. For some reason, though my credit card was null and void, my subscription came through for the year. I’m able to watch movies and download tons of free books that *almost* make me feel like I used to.

I think it was fate that it just so happened “Stop Walking on Eggshells” was featured as a free prime book. The name caught my eye immediately because… that’s my life. I’m half way in and boy, is it REALLY my life.

The book is about BPD (borderline personality disorder). I’m no psychiatrist. I like to think of myself slightly better than your average Joe when it comes to psychiatry, as it was my minor in college. It was accidental as I ended up taking many psych classes to raise my GPA. It came easy for me. I should have taken that as a sign and went with it. Maybe I would have graduated. Easy roads are never my choice. I’ll have to dream of what could have been another day…. Obviously, I get distracted easily. Where was I? I’m pretty sure my boyfriend has BPD.

BPD. Apparently, BPD can be cured. Unlike Narcissism (which unfortunately, a nice percentage of BPD sufferers DO have), people can be aware of this disorder and seek treatment. Of course, that means at some point they have to accept there is something wrong with them. You can love someone with BPD and actually live with them WITHOUT walking on eggshells. I’m only half way through the book so I haven’t figured that part out yet.

As an update, I moved. I moved to the location of my dreams. Its fun going grocery shopping and seeing all the tourists and knowing that I am not here for just a week. I’m happy that I have a home I can be proud of again. The kids start school next week which will make my move more official. Once school starts, I can’t just pack up and leave at the drop of a dime. It scares the crap out of me. Part of me says that if this doesn’t work, this relationship, I could at least put some time in, get a job, get established so I can stay here on my own. Most of me wants this relationship to work, which is why I am still so hopeful. And then mornings like this morning make me want to just run.

I’m not sure where this morning started bad. One minute, I’m begging him to stay in bed and cuddle for just a little bit longer. Insert coffee, sandwich making and BAM! I’m crying with my head in my hands. I was given $20. I won’t be able to go pick up my children with that. I can’t buy the things he knew I needed with that. It was a tease. It was a control game. All because I made sandwiches for his lunch instead of cooking him something. These sandwiches were made with the same meat he personally picked out for sandwiches two weeks ago. I try to mix it up so he wont get tired of anything. Sometimes, making two “dinners” so he won’t even be stuck with left overs. Well, sometimes, life gives you a chicken sandwich. Most people would say “Thank you. I appreciate you making me a sandwich.” Or even “Thank you for my sandwich but I’m not in the mood for sandwiches this week. Can you bring me something around lunch instead?” Not in my house. I got called a bitch. Then a lazy bitch. Then I got texted how much I am a lazy bitch because without him, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head etc. I could have packed something better than 4 pieces of bread. It wasn’t just 4 pieces of bread. I made sure I packed enough water, a soda, a snack, half of a melon…

This all started a huge conversation, of course. My needs are not being met (thank you book). Emotionally, I’m abandoned. Physically, should I even go there right now? I don’t know ANYONE here. I’m isolated. I walk around and look for smudges to scrub because I have nothing to do but clean all day. My children aren’t here because they are spending time with family (though I was supposed to go pick up my daughter today, my son wanted to stay extra days because he’s spending time with friends and family). I literally have nothing to do. I’m scared of going to the beach or the pool. That would mean me having fun while being a lazy bitch and that might have consequences. I will probably sit here the rest of the day and watch Grey’s. Which, I later go and clear my watch activity and then I have to clear my activity on my phone so it doesn’t show that I cleared anything on Netflix… I’m still unsure if I’m allowed to watch Grey’s or not. Ugh.

My mom is losing her house. The one I was staying in. I don’t really have a place to go if I decided to go back. I could take this opportunity and suck it up. Establish myself here and if it never gets any better, I can then get out.

I’m not by any means using him. I WANT this to get better. We had found a rhythm of normalcy for a moment there. This was before the order of steroids got here. Before the transfer of a new job meant late nights and late nights meant alcohol to wind down. In the time we have been together, alcohol has never really been a source of fights, at least not until recently. He even admitted last week that he is experiencing blackouts. Here’s how it happens: Things are great. We are laughing. Maybe listening to music. Then he goes to the bathroom and comes back. You can tell something is off. Then he starts picking. You cheated on your husband. You talked to your husband behind my back. You did such and such when you were 2 years old (ok, slight exaggeration but come on!) Another common one is have I seen any attractive men since I moved here. (SCREECH! Quick story here. I admitted that a bartender was cute and we ran into him one night at another place. He picked a fight with him and we ended up getting banned from that place. The last time I said a movie star was attractive, I was banned from watching my favorite show.) I either try to calm him down, go with it, or there was that one time when I stood up for myself… Then he lays on the couch and goes to sleep. He’ll grab me in the middle of the night and cling to me. The next morning, he remembers we argued but what about? We did that 3 nights in a row and the third night, when I had enough, it ended up with the cops here and a TV in the pond.

Truth is, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I don’t know what to do but I have to decide ASAP. If I want to give this a chance, I have to figure this out today. If not, I need to go back to where I’m from tomorrow. I somehow have to call my mom and tell her that I’m not picking up my daughter as planned today. I’ve thought about telling her I’m having doubts because I’m homesick and I just need one more day to decide. But I don’t want her to think things are off in the relationship (that’s something us non BP do.. we hide our significant other’s behavior). I thought about telling her my car battery is dead. I just got new tires so I can’t have a flat. I don’t like lying, especially to my mother. But I really need one more day. Because once I drive this car out of this driveway and head north, its a permanent decision either way. We are discussing our relationship tonight… And I have to wait this one more day.


Better Man

We had a dream. We wanted to move to a certain place, our own little paradise. He started a job there yesterday. Things were starting to happen.

Before he left, we had a blissful two days. Well, the first night being the exception. My windshield got a big crack in it and my front door got shattered. But other than that, it was perfect.

This morning, I set an alarm so I could call him before he started his first day. He was angry. He couldnt sleep last night so he thought too much… He apologized. 

The day went on. My mom and I were going to dinner. He wanted to know what I was wearing. On a whim, I decided a long maxi dress. We fought. I decided to wear something warmer anyway.

Then I found out my mom had planned on going to a restaurant that had a bar in it. You know, like most restaurants do. Im not allowed to go places like that without him. We got into another fight. My mom came down on me pretty hard. She said my marriage wasn’t even like this. She doesnt understand why I choose to live this way….etc. I stayed in. We video chatted but had to stop for a little while. We were fine when we got off the phone.

For some reason, things started getting stirred up out of no where. Things from a long time ago. Before I met him, I was doing a Christmas show. I paint wine bottle characters and scenes. It’s something I really enjoy and sometimes, I make a little money from it. To prepare for the Christmas show, I needed a lot of bottles so I made a post on Facebook about needing some bottles. A guy responded though I never got around to picking them up. This was at least a month before I met my boyfriend. Because of that, I was told tonight that I’m not allowed to paint wine bottles anymore. 

Today was a roller coaster. Even after the first yelling session, I bounced back and excitedly texted him about how great it’s going to be to live at the beach. 

Ive realized how abnormal my life is. My mom doesn’t have to tell me that. One of the scariest things about breaking up is the idea of him moving on. Why is that? Why does it matter? I realize what a train wreck he is. At almost 50 years old, he’s not going to change. Whatever woman falls as his next victim will get the same treatment. Slowly but surely, her identity will be washed away (if she stays long enough). She won’t do anything without questioning him if it’s ok. Eventually, she won’t ask. She’ll just stay at home. 

As of right now, Im blocked from contacting him in every way. I think he broke up with me again but I couldn’t understand what he said. I know Im supposed to get out of his life and join Jenny Craig. Every time, it gets less painful. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t believe him and think he will call in the morning anyway or if it’s because Im beginning to care less and less. And as I’m typing this, he calls… to tell me what a fat piece of shit I am again. Thats his thing, to call women fat if they make him mad. Sometimes it bothers me. It’s beginning to hurt less too. 

So now, Im going to put on that wonderful, so perfect song, “Better Man”. Kudos to Taylor Swift for writing that one! Im going to let myself cry for the duration of that song. Then Im going to go break one of the rules and watch Grey’s Anatomy because that’s what fat trash like me does. Tomorrow is another day…. 

He changed my name

As we go through life, who we are is reshaped and molded over and over again. First, by our parents. Then by our teachers and peers. We think that eventually we become who we are and that’s it. Some minor adjustments from time to time but still the same recognisable being.

I don’t remember the first time I became remolded in this relationship. Was it the time I had to return the already opened pack of cigarettes to a store because I wasn’t allowed to smoke that brand? Was it the time my radio was smashed because I turned up a song at the end of an argument? The day my tablet got smashed due to pictures on the cloud of me and my ex? Or when my next tablet got smashed because I watched something he didn’t like…? 

Ive been reshaped into something that doesn’t even resemble myself. A woman that is scared to listen to songs because they might stir things up. Scared to wear certain clothes because even if I wear them around the house, my comfy shorts could end up in shreds for being too short. Im ashamed of dancing. I don’t even look people in the eyes anymore. I am careful to laugh at things I find funny, just in case they are thought to be inappropriate. 

My name is now cunt, occasionally bitch/liar/fat ass/low life/trash/worthless/piece of shit. I am not who I used to be.