Please, please, please read. I need help with this and I promise it will be somewhat interesting.

As pretty much everyone with BPD knows, relationships are undoubtedly the main source of happiness and the main source of pain in our worlds, no matter how much we wish they weren’t. So this is of course; my entire world right now.

I will try to keep this as short as I can while still providing enough detail to understand the situation. I met (we will call him Chase) in late 2019 off of a dating app, and within 10 minutes of hanging out we had a connection and a chemistry that could not be ignored. We were both very unstable and rushed into a relationship that lasted about 2 months, until a specific time that he broke up with me and didn’t call me back 5 min later, as he usually did. That was in February 2020, and from that point until August (about 7 months) it was about as toxic as it gets. He preyed on every last vulnerability I had as a borderline - blocking and leaving me for 2 weeks, coming back in and saying all the right things for about a week, verbally attacking me telling me I’m weak and essentially worthless and manipulating me into apologizing to HIM for god only knows what, and repeating all of these things, over and over and over and over and over. I was exhausted. Suicidal every minute of every day - except for when he was giving me attention, which was rare. He would swoop back in, come over, laugh with me for hours like we were best friends, fuck me 4 times in one night, and then not even seem to know I existed the next day. He had his own issues and the amount of times I had to talk him down from suicide was unbelievable. What made it unbelievable is what it looked like in comparison to the amount of times I tried to cry on his shoulder or confide in him when I was on the sheer edge of suicide, and he would say something like “I don’t have time for this shit” and block my number for a week. 

It. Was. Awful. I am sparing many details as to keep this shorter but in short, it was a borderline’s worst nightmare. I did attempt suicide during this time and I’m actually proud of myself for only attempting once, seeing as I had a debilitating panic attack around once a day. I couldn’t bare it. But I couldn’t fucking pull myself out. I was also an alcoholic, which made me much more susceptible to his abuse. 

In early July 2020 I came to a breaking point one night, and I just somehow knew, I knew if I was going to survive I had to do 2 things: put down the bottle and leave. Looking back, leaving was easier because he had me blocked and had already left me (I knew he’d always come back, but I needed to not let him.) So I did it. I remember the day. July 7th, I threw away what was left of my alcohol, and just began living a Chase-free life. I really did so fucking well. I think I could’ve even walked away forever. He had hurt me bad enough at this point that’s the thought of him genuinely made me want to vomit, and I somehow made my brain stick with that instead of romanticizing him. Being sober was also necessary in this process. I swear, I had more control over myself and my life in the month of July 2020 than I ever have, and fear I ever will have again. 

Sometime in early August he came back again. I had done so well, ignoring his calls messages but on this particular night I convinced myself that there was nothing wrong with checking in and asking if he was ok. He could 100% sense that I was somewhat moving on, and that he had almost no control of me at all. It was so obvious how much that drove him crazy. Him and I always had a deep, deep connection, but I was unbelievably clingy and suffocating up to this point, so he didn’t feel the need to appreciate our connection as something he could lose until now. So of course, he begged and he pleaded, and he cried until he sobbed until he threw up, not giving up until I told him I would give him another chance. I couldn’t quite say no to him. I had come so far to a point where I could essentially live without him, but saying no to him was not a strength that I had. So what I did say what is that if he could keep this act up for a month, this act of wanting to actually be with me, to really, really be with me, I might give him a chance. And that’s exactly what he did. Only it wasn’t an act. Everything changed in August. It was as if I was no one before, and suddenly he was in love with me. And it’s been that way ever since. He could not possibly bring himself to leave me now. 

We were still very toxic, but we became so close, no one could tear us apart. We were a literal team. He became part of my family, coming to Thanksgiving and Christmas, and anywhere else I went with me. We were (and are) so codependent on each other that it worked, bc we just fed each other’s codependency. He dedicated all his time to basically overcompensating for the pain he put me through for so long. I resented him so much, and we fought about it all the time, but it did give me some power in the way that no matter what, he always felt like he owed me. I never do the dishes anymore, take out the trash, or go a night without getting a back scratch. I’ve got to admit it was pretty nice. Especially considering the fact that I have been in love with him for so long and this is all I had dreamed of, never actually believing it would become a reality. It’s as if somebody dropped $1 million in a homeless man’s lap. You constantly ache for it, but you have the sense to know it will never happen. But it did for me.

All of this was ripped apart two weeks ago. I won’t get into all the gory details, but on March 20th, he accidentally fucked up and basically outed himself. It wasn’t necessarily proof that he was cheating, but it was proof that he was hiding something from only me on his phone. I knew in that moment he was cheating, and I shut down. I would not speak to him. This always drives him insane. He cries and cries and panics and begs and says anything and talks himself into corners until I give in and speak to him again. This time the only words I could muster were, “the only way you’re going to fix this is if you unlock your phone and hand it to me”. This is not something I ever wanted to do. I have avoided it at all fucking costs. He was always so secretive with this phone, and I denied in my head that he could be cheating because it would be too much to handle. I assumed that he just watched a fuck ton of porn or something, and didn’t want me seeing anything like that in his phone, which would have made me uncomfortable but I would’ve been fine, so I was okay believing that that’s what I was in denial of. 

Okay so I am trying not to drag this on. Let me just give the major details of what has gone on in these past two weeks. I saw on his phone that he was messaging hundreds of women (or at LEAST 100), from women he had already messed around with, to women he messaged on Instagram, to women he met on dating apps, to women he worked with, and there was literally no end to it. He flirted with anything that had a vagina and a pulse. I don’t even fucking understand how he found the time to do it. It had to be literally all he was doing every time he or I went to the bathroom, every time he laid awake next to me while I slept, every time I went to work (only 20hrs a week) and the very few times that he ever went home or went and hung out with his friend. We spent every moment together. He did none of this right next to me. Most of what he did was sexting and essentially begging for nudes. I know for a fact he begged one girl to fuck and flirted relentlessly with her for months until she felt bad for me and stopped answering, starting in AUGUST, the month he pledged his love to me and basically said he would slit his own wrists before ever causing me any pain again. Getting on his hands and knees to let me let him prove to me that he could be good to me, and make up for everything that caused me to resent him from the past, telling me he would do everything in his power for the rest of his life if that’s what it took. Meanwhile, CHEATING AND CHEATING AND CHEATING AND CHEATING AND CHEATING. He has ONLY admitted to what I had literal proof of and shoved in his face. I know for a fact there is so much more, and I’ll probably never know what it all is.

To say my boyfriend was sexually satisfied with me is an understatement. We fucked at least twice a day (we’ve been living together pretty much, he’s not on the lease but i had to start paying for him). I took many hot, hot ass nudes for him because he would beg. He was and is literally obsessed with my body, it could even make him cry, it was honestly a little weird to me, but it made me feel beautiful and special. I could make him come at the snap of a finger and I could make him hard in an instant after that. He always did this one thing that truth be told made me a little uneasy and just seemed like he was simping: nearly every time he would come he would be panting and holding me and say “I could literally never ever possibly have a reason to cheat on you.” It was weird to me because like, I didn’t ask? It’s one of those things you hope is fucking understood without saying out loud you know? Like obviously? Is that supposed to give me butterflies? I don’t know. I assumed it was his way of telling me how sexually satisfied he was with me, and I sure as fuck believed it. HOW COULD HE HAVE BEEN LYING THIS WHOLE TIME??????

He has tried to kill him self 3 times since March 20th, and almost tried to more than that. Twice in front of me with anything sharp he could find trying to slit his throat, me having to wrestle him to make him stop, and once last Monday, resulting in a mental hospital stay which is where he currently still is. Sometimes it’s when I tell him I’m done and I can’t fucking do it and he needs to get out of my house. Sometimes it’s when I tell him I’m probably gonna fuck someone else now. Whatever it may be, he’s the one that freaks out and I’m the one that has to calm him down or clean blood off of his neck (superficial wounds), even when the both of us know I’m going through much worse pain. 

He BEGS and SOBS and tries to fucking kill him self for gods sake trying to get me to listen to him when he says he can fix it, he’ll get therapy, we’ll go to counseling, blah blah blah. Do you know how much I want to believe that? How many chances I’ve given this motherfucker? The time? The sex? The money? The love? My family? I have been the only good thing in his life for a long time. I have bled myself dry for him. He has watched what it does to me. Seen me have episodes. Seen me get physically sick from the stress he puts me through. He cries and sobs that he hates himself and loves me with every part of him, but then the same day he does that he can go into the bathroom and text some girl trying to set up plans for 3 AM. 

Thought I would add that we recently decided he is probably borderline too, but he hasn’t been able to be seen by a psychiatrist or anything, he’s been trying to get insurance. Just thought that might be slightly important to add. 2 borderlines, what a storm.

It is just simply my worst nightmare. The pain I feel. The emptiness. The lack of control. The worthlessness - not being enough. The betrayal. I was sober for months but slowly I have gotten back to the point of only being able to cope with liquor, 24/7. I can’t stop. I can’t leave him. This time he is a literal part of me and my fucking family. I try with everything in me but I am nothing without him. And he will not fucking leave me. Being away from him is impossible but being touched by him makes me cringe, unless I’m so drunk that I can’t walk straight. 

What. Do. I. Do.