Day 7, El Boca, El Shutta

I got an email from Robin today. A friendly little note that says - gee, haven't spoken for a while; hope you are well. I guess you don't have any thoughts about my last little note about our financial future together. Oh bite me.

I am not sure sarcasm suits me very well, but I haven't had much sleep in the last few days and so I am a little punch drunk I think. Going through the motions and playing the waiting game while my lawyers drafts up the paper work, is leaving me on pins and needles a bit. Like I said, so much of me wishes this was just a bad dream, but alas, it is not.

One of the major symptoms of BPD is the yo-yo factor of being on a pedestal, and then off a pedestal within the same breath. One minute you are adored, and in the next second and without warning, you are worse than a sea slug mating is a cesspool. There is no logic. One day, Robin and my son and I were just hanging out, watching TV, doing nothing in particular. Robin was a great cook, and he started to make a stew or something. It seemed he was enjoying himself and we had all been laughing and enjoying our time together, when all of a sudden Robin slams the knife down onto the kitchen counter. He walked over to the sink and began seething. I casually looked up, and asked if he was okay. He threw a glass and it ricocheted off of the counter smashing onto the blue tiled floor. I calmly asked what was going on, to which he replied " You guys just sit there and take, take, take, while I slave over this stove. What is the matter with your son, can't he get up and peel the carrots without being asked to contribute? Can't you see I need some help in here?"and with that, he stormed into the laundry room and blew the breaker. The power was shut off. " I pay for this power, and I will decide how it is used." he growled. He stood at the kitchen sink facing us - complete with the look that I had grown so accustomed to, and oozed anger from his pores. We quietly apologized. We couldn't say or do anything. I stood, pushing my son behind me, and asked how I could help. He stormed outside. I turned on the power and continued to work on his concoction. Silence filled the house, but the air was thickened in a deep blanket of dense fog. The storm had arrived. Tread lightly.

I don't remember much else. Just that the day had been spoiled. Another family day, stressed and without so much as any warning. I recall, the next day he told me how wonderful I was and how lucky he was to be married to me. How I looked so young and beautiful. As if nothing had happened.

When I read the email a moment ago, it reminded me of the cycle.

One minute his behavior hurtful and cruel, the next a note with the sweet salutation "Love Robin xo". The idea, I am sure to show what a lovely person that he is, and that of course there was nothing wrong at all. If anyone were to read the emails, they would appear to be caring and loving and logical. Why would anyone think badly of Robin; he is trying to work things out with you Ann. He closes the note with " I will call you later to catch up". I could hear the nonchalance of that accent.

I began to write a reply - and in it, I told him off, and then like a bolt of lightning, my intelligence kicked in and screamed at me, that that was exactly what he wanted. A response. Any response was better than my silence. And the words I would send would fulfill his need beyond anything I could predict. He would be satiated. A twisted kind of comfort that I had grown entirely accustomed too. Part of the ride.

I thought better of it and abruptly erased it. Hearing myself, my own justification for what he has done, doesn't serve me in the least by sharing it with him.

It is what he wants me to do. No, silence has more impact for me right now. Preservation and patience. I know what I know. I am back on his little footstool again, and he will try to swoon me. No, there will be no reaction this time. My spider senses are working overtime.

There is a certain predictability with BPD. It goes in cycles that can almost be measured on a graph. When the burst of anger has passed, there is a honeymoon stage. A stage where you can do no wrong because the major flair has exploded and the building of the new cycle of tension hasn't yet fully formed.

It is a bit of a sweet place, because you know that you will be safe for a little while. It is also the most dangerous, because that is the time when the people who suffer from BPD are the most charming. And they are charming. I received flowers every week, whether I needed them or not, during this phase. I am courted, romanced and spoiled rotten during this phase. Nothing I do is less than wonderful. As the tension begins to build, snipes slip in, without really being noticed. They are small. Orders start appearing in the form of "you are not busy, you can do this or that", and in the desire to please, the jobs get done without question. Truth is, I would complain a little bit, because I had an agenda of my own that needed my attention, but to keep the peace I would inevitably comply. The cycle builds in unnoticeable baby steps from an external point of view, but internally my body would quietly begin to rumble. I knew an explosion would be coming due and I tried painstakingly, to do everything right in order to avoid it. It could never be prevented.

There is a term for those who live with partners who have BPD called "walking on eggshells", and it is true metephor. It became a household term, along with a few others, like Oz and Hoovering, by a wonderful support team named Randi Kreger and Paul T. Mason. Their book "Stop Walking on Eggshells" is considered the BPD Bible. If you want to understand BPD behaviors, this is the best first line of defense. You can find their books all over the internet and at most major book stores. There is an accompaniment workbook that will help to identify your own feelings, and understand how your contributions to the problems of BPD surface and perhaps fuel their issues. It is a guide to help sidestep major problems and although each person is different, there are enough commonalities to make this a usable tool kit for surviving and understanding who you are involved with. The book has certainly helped me and frankly, it gave me a resource when I thought I was going crazy.

The BPD behavior is so odd, and so difficult to wrap your head around, that partners often feel that it is them that are the crazy ones, but it is isn't us at all. BPD, and Narcisstistic Personality
Disorders are commonly intertwined and the conditions effect every part of the relationship and it also creates a codependency over time, like nothing else.

I am constantly amazed when I go back into my memory about how much responsibility I took for his behavior. How I would try to prevent explosions from happening, how I would even martyr myself to justify his choices. I can only revisit these events and try to watch them as though I were watching a movie. Then in hopes of further understanding, question myself with "Did I say something to trigger him. Why did he chose to make us afraid of him. What was he afraid of?" Then I ask myself why, why did I stay, year after year?

It is a process. It is hard to remove oneself from the situation. The good is so unbelievably good and the bad, well it is equally tough. I kept saying, " but he only does this four times a year ", and then I would allow myself a little more time to process. It would be okay, over and over again I would tell myself. It never was.

Yesterday, I expressed a feeling of depression. I feel low today, but not really depressed. This is a tough road and there is much to be done, and much to be felt.

But not in his email. No, not again. The cycle will be broken.