Apologies for the novel I’m trying to get my thoughts straight


I’m pretty sure I have BPD. I haven’t brought it up with a therapist but after reading quite a bit it all sounds exactly like me. Abusive childhood, anxiety and depression, eating disorders, threats and attempts of suicide, ~intense~ fear of abandonment, extreme emotions, oscillating between idealization and devaluation.


My ex is almost certainly a narcissist. There was the lovebombing at first; the getting me to move in with him after only three weeks of dating, telling me I was just right for him and promising to marry me right after we started dating. The subtle criticisms, telling me to dress more sexily, wear more makeup, get a push-up bra or nobody would take me seriously as an adult. The insecurity and constantly insulting his friends behind their backs. The extreme charisma, having everybody adore him and saying he’s slept with between 150 and 200 women. 

The jealousy, accusing me of talking to a man who’d given me his number and I told him because I thought he’d find it funny, and the hypocrisy in getting me drunk and having a friend or a stranger from Grindr over to have a three way on three separate occasions, making me feel guilty at feeling uncomfortable and almost traumatized by the experience because he said he wanted to explore his sexuality without feeling like he was cheating. It still felt like cheating, but worse because it felt like I was being made an accomplice in his infidelity.

The constant lies. The breaking of every single promise he ever made. The calling me crazy(although, with the BPD thing, I probably am a bit by most standards). The five and a half hour drinking binge that ended in him threatening in detail to beat two men to death at the bar for no reason and then doing push ups before the manager kicked him out and he told me that there was nothing good in the world and there was no point in doing good, only hurting people before they could hurt you. The complete discarding once he decided he was done with me.

I loved submitting myself to all his desires. I made dinner for him every night after work, I washed the dishes, I did laundry and cleaned the house. I fulfilled his every sexual fantasy.

Our relationship was extremely passionate and volatile. We fought all the time. We told each other I love you and I miss you whenever we were at work. We had constant sex. 

Every day I thought about breaking up with him but I held back because here was someone who said we would always be together. I would never be alone again. I would never be abandoned. I hated and loved being his slave. I’ve never cared about or wanted to take care of myself, and here was someone to take care of, a vessel to pour infinite amounts of love into when I couldn’t love myself. I loved and hated him more than anything. I pushed him away just so that he would reassure me that he wouldn’t ever leave me.

One night we got into another fight. The next morning I told him I didn’t think we should be together, I was tired of being angry at him. I wanted him to ask me to stay. Instead he told me I was right. He didn’t want me anymore. He drank so much because he didn’t want to see how wrong I was for him. I immediately regretted it. 

I cried almost constantly. I begged him to take me back. He said we would get back together soon. But when I was still miserable after a week, when I showed my need to be loved, he told me that he wanted a strong woman and that I was weak. I threatened to kill myself, and he left the house. I almost went through with it.

He kicked me out. He wanted to bring women home to sleep with and me being there would be inconvenient. When I found a place he told me that he missed me and it sucked that I had left. He said that I would always be his best friend. He started texting me nice things again and invited me over to hang out. When I came he began spooning me and I told him I didn’t want to fuck around if it wasn’t going to go anywhere. He said he understood, he just missed having me there. We began kissing and slept together. This happened a few more times, then the texts became less frequent. I began to worry. I didn’t want to be abandoned again. My texts became more desperate, asking him if he was using me and if he still saw me as a friend. He reassured me. I apologized. The texts became even less frequent and I was always the one initiating.


He began saying he was too busy to hang out when I asked if we could without having sex. He became irritated whenever he saw me. I was growing more depressed and feeling like I had nobody to turn to. I felt worthless. I decided to kill myself. 

I sent him a note. He told me to call him. I did, and he sounded annoyed and told me to give it a couple days. A couple days later I asked him to call or text me because I needed someone to talk to. I was still feeling suicidal. He didn’t reply. I asked if I could call. No reply. I called and he didn’t pick up. 

I went to the apartment. He answered the door and was angry. He said he never wanted to see me because I was too emotional. I asked if he hated me and he told me I’d made him hate me. He threatened to get a restraining order and closed the door in my face. 

I called the suicide prevention lifeline and calmed down enough to not kill myself. 

I read that narcissists and borderlines are drawn to each other. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to resist if he comes back to me. I’m afraid that the way I am would be torment to any normal person and I don’t want to subject anyone to myself. I don’t want to be alone.