Navigating Heartbreak

I wish I’d have known then what I know now.

I’m currently navigating my way through a heartbreak I know is the best thing for me, but hurts like hell nonetheless. I (M46) was summarily discarded this past weekend by my partner of 18 months, (F46) who has BPD.

My experience was fairly typical of BPD relationships in some ways, less so in others. I wasn’t as drawn in by some during the ‘idolisation’ stage, but managed to navigate my way through two break-ups and all the madness that comes with that by being pretty consistent. She was getting therapy, and we were in therapy together that was producing some good results albeit at a cost, but it’s a longer journey than time would allow us to have.

Unfortunately, we reached a point where I could no longer be an infinite container for the anger and the irrationality, and the being expected to immediately intuit that some small, incidental thing might cause some enormous eruption. After our last ‘argument’ (over the positioning of a pillow being rejecting) I felt absolutely exhausted.

I knew how it would end, and so it came to pass. After a WhatsApp message ending our relationship, I sent her one offering her some kindness. Soon after, the next day, she found some hook by which to cast me as a villain, and when I didn’t reply (for the first time in our relationship, a deliberate choice) they escalated, and escalated, included name-calling, accusations, bullying (in the form of screenshots of conversations with friends all agreeing I was ‘manipulative’ and ironically, ‘bullying’) and then finally, cutting off. I’m blocking you, I don’t want my stuff, never contact me again. Just 72 hours earlier she had been telling me how much she loved me. I understand this was also part of the condition, and am not putting any more stock in this than any of the name calling.

In hindsight, looking at the relationship through the lens of BPD things make a lot of sense. A tattoo after a couple of months she said was related to when we met, which she got even though I told her it made me uncomfortable. The reactiveness. The power of the words. How she would describe me to others. The endings, the reconciliation, and the ability to code-switch back to being ‘so in love’ so fast. And why I compromised so readily; blurred my own boundaries, made concessions, gave her endless financial and emotional support to try and make her life a better place. I used to tell her “you don’t need to set the bar low for yourself”.

I can now see some of the reasons things were beginning to feel to unsatisfying for me. We never got to me because she had all the ways to bring it back round to her.

The worst part is that I miss my friend. I feel nothing but compassion for her. I see the pain in her words, and while I know in the moments of calling me names, or using the most painful thing she can find to say as a weapon, she genuinely believes those things to be true and valid. I also know there’d be an underlying horror to the other part of her if she ever really understood the impact of her behaviour. She’s a good person with a wonderful heart, as are the overwhelming majority of people I’ve ever met with BPD, and a brilliant mother to her young son, but what has happened was inevitable, and I know I just have to sit in this painful silence.

I wish I could help her in some way, but I know I very specifically am the person who cannot.

For anyone reading this with similar experiences, I found Lisa Leblanc’s videos very helpful to contextualise some of mine. I also found it very helpful to examine, as so many videos and articles suggest one does, the question of what it is I miss – is it the whole person or just the good moments? Is it just being with a person and not alone? Is it the promise of what I hoped it might be, or the reality? And, of course, I know I need to look at myself and my role in all of this. But that's tomorrow's work. Today's is the grief.

As so many inevitably know – you’re there, or you’ve been there, if you’re reading this – that there's a huge part of me that would swap it all just for the chance to see her one more time. To kiss her face. Or just to say goodbye.

Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.