I Hate Hating My Life

After living with a man with NPD and rebounding to one with BPD, my insecurities seem endless around romantic relationships. I’ve heard all of the right words, hollow and meaningless, nothing backing them up. I’ve been terrorized by the misinterpretation of literally every word and action of my own as well.

People with personality disorders, when dealt with badly and not treated, are dangerous. The kind of self-doubt and confusion their presence in your life instills is difficult to shake. 28 years of that and you…you are me.

The story in my head today is no good, no good at all. I woke up with this stupid story and now, I am trying to get rid of it. I wonder how many of you wake up this way. Please feel free to share!

The story goes like this:

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I am afraid. I am afraid the man laying next to me is a covert narc like my ex, just with different, and even more difficult ways of seeing it. I am afraid that his gestures of love — the flowers, the cash, the letting us move in with him to save my life, the thoughtful texts in the middle of the day, the sweet kisses — are all a manipulation…just another kind of it.

Sidebar: You see, my ex-husband forgot I existed when he walked out the door in the morning. Between 12 and 16 hours later, he would come home to me…and exhausted, overworked, and only stable-on-the-outside wife. He didn’t buy me gifts. He didn’t offer money…EVER! He never had anything to offer, really. But he had potential. I was in love with the idea of a man once.

I am terrified that I will do that again. My God! What if I already did?
I am terrified that this man’s “I love you” doesn’t mean what I mean when I say it. I am terrified his “I love you” means “I need you. I need you to fix me. I need you to be my mom.”, like my ex-boyfriend.
I am terrified it means, “You make me look good. People like me because they love you. I need you to think I love you so you will stay and do everything for me so that I can do my life.”

But none of these make logical sense. Sadly, that doesn’t mean my mind doesn’t do this. Every. Damn. Day.

I am terrified of being trapped with someone because I am not yet on my feet. I am terrified of trapping him. I want to be happy, but I also want him to be happy. What if this was a bad idea, even though it was the best of the bad options I had? I swore I would never do this; move in with a boyfriend. But this was it.
I am terrified of never recovering my neurological system enough to get my mind and heart to work as they need to in order to make a living. I have nothing saved. I have no retirement. Everything I had and tens of thousands more were spent in the divorce. Not only that, but it was so traumatizing that my body reminds me every damn day that it is not over.
I am terrified it will never be over.
I am terrified that I will die before I ever feel some semblance of success and stability. It is eating me alive.
I am terrified of everything I gave up over the decades of my marriage. They all come back to haunt me…usually in the middle of the night until the alarm goes off.

Yes, I have my own potential (which feels fleeting) and my children. I think I would die without them. They are my lifeline.

Their silliness and love for each other brings me so much comfort. Their way of holding to our family traditions and remembering sweet things about their childhoods softens my pain. Their hugs and even their texts asking weird-ass questions truly keep me going.

So I wake up every day, feeling scared and shaky. And yet…I keep going. There is food to make for kids. There is a good man to love. There is homework to do and a life to create. There is a therapy appointment, a FAFSA to fill out and a book to write.

I do love my life. But I hate it, too. The cycle is unkind and exhausting.

I want a morning that I wake up without an alarm, to be held and passionately made love to. I am aching for a day that includes nothing but walking, looking at the clouds, laughing, eating, and feeling safe, with people I love and trust. A whole day.

I don’t even know how to make that happen.

But, being a high-functioning person no matter how I feel, I will keep trying. I will hopefully quit trying to make things happen that are never going to happen. I will hopefully quit hoping for a life that is impossible, given the reality of my limitations. I hate them. They are more real than I’d like to consciously admit. So my unconscious, early morning mind does it for me. Thanks again, stupid brain.

But maybe, I could just have one perfect day…someday.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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