Recently got out of a 3-month relationship with a wonderful woman. I was smitten with her from the first day to the last day -- she was vibrant, unpredictable, funny, full of life. I knew she had problems -- a troubled childhood with abusive parents, a history of self-harm and worse, a sporadically difficult relationship with substances and a troubled relationship to food -- but she was never anything but kind and loving towards me. She was brilliant and eclectic, with a kaleidoscopic personality, an interesting job. She has an intense love for small animals. Sometimes it felt like she'd lived two lifetimes in the span of 25 years. She seemed to fall in love in weeks, or even days. She spent most of her free time with me. She loved everything about me, even the stuff that I assumed was dorky or annoying. And I loved pretty much everything about her. We made a lot of plans together; she was moving and we found her a place in my neighborhood, we talked about a joyful post-covid summer full of trips and love.

There were odd things, sure. The one "ex-friend" she'd bring up, without ever quite explaining why she'd become an ex. She dumped me once out of the blue for a tiny slight, sadly saying she just didn't think it would work out. When she seemed truly upset, she'd go blank, express no emotion at all. She seemed to both want to dive in as fast as hard as possible, but also keep me at an arm's length, something I attributed to her recently having left a longer relationship. She'd say she'd changed so much in the last few years, was basically unrecognizable from her past selves, and her social media feeds suggested that was at least partially true. She worried a lot about being too toxic for me. She never really wanted to be exclusive, but she was terrified of me dating anyone else, and then another time said she wished I'd sleep with another woman so she'd have a reason to bail. But insecurities aren't uncommon and these were drops in an ocean.

Then in the final week she seemed to withdraw. I was confused and when I confronted her about it, I stepped over the line a little -- suggested she misled me or even had used me, for sex or affection. And that was it. She went cold and flat in a day. The next time we talked it was like a stranger was inhabiting the body of the person I knew. With cold irritation, she explained that she did not believe we were compatible. She did not remember saying she was falling in love with me, she said, despite me having the texts where she said it. She had been "caught up in the moment." My insecurities had been too great, and I needed to seek help before I dumped them on the next girl. She was clear about one thing: she wanted no further relationship with me. I was sobbing, she was blank, she left.

A few weeks later I texted her to tell her I was thinking of her. She told me to stop. She'd made her peace, she'd moved on. She wanted boundaries -- no contact at all, seemingly. I was crushed. I sent her a middle-of-the-night email, saying that I respected her decision and needed nothing from her, but wanted her to know she was a special, vibrant, kind human being, and I wanted to part ways with kindness and caring. Unsurprisingly I received no response.

After weeks of confusion and devastation on my end, I found a random description of BPD. At first, I thought it couldn't be her, since she never lashed out at me. But then I read about the quiet type, and I  found myself in the bizarre situation of reading a perfect stranger, describing my ex, perfectly. Since then I've read... everything I can find. It's been revelatory. I really have no doubt at all what happened to me anymore. I don't know if she knows what is happening to her -- she has only recently, in the last six months, sought psychiatric care that she has clearly needed, and the only diagnosis I'm aware of is bipolar. But while that may be correct, bipolar is only in the neighborhood of what I experienced, and certainly doesn't really explain my experience of her.

I feel terrible about the things I said in the final days -- the emotional intensity I dumped on her, the implicit accusations, they were the *exact wrong thing*. To me they were me standing my ground, letting her know how I felt, but I suspect to her they felt like a dagger in the heart, a confirmation of every dark fear and suspicion she had, proof positive that I was never the man she thought and she had to run as far and fast as she possibly could.

The only question is whether anything will change, which of course is unknowable. It makes me so sad. She must be hurting so much more than I had any idea -- just a gutting thought, since I thought we were so happy together. And it's unsettling. How much of the personality I saw was real and permanent? Will she change when she meets someone else ( and I believe she has already, although it's hard to be sure)? The end was so abrupt that even now, four weeks on, it feels like her ghost is still in my house. Part of my brain expects her to walk through the door smiling any moment.

If she came back on her own, I know I'd not be able to avoid trying to take her back, although now I feel certain she wouldn't be the same and the relationship wouldn't feel right. She would embrace treatment with the right nudge -- of this I feel almost certain. She knows things aren't right, although I'm not sure how precisely she knows what's wrong. She 

I think about her constantly; I think a lot about whether she thinks about me ever, at all. It's strange because her near-instantaneous disappearance has left me nauseous about future relationships, now I know that anyone, no matter what they say or how they genuinely they seem to love you, can leave at any moment and vanish completely, both physically and into themselves. In some ways it helps me understand her better -- the thought is so awful that it's not hard to see how this fear could distort someone's entire perception of reality.

I know I'm going to be told not to do this, and I know it will likely get no response or a cold response, but I'm going to reach back out eventually, because it feels like all I can do. With that said, if anyone here -- BPD or not -- has any advice about the best way to do it, I'm all ears. 

I posted this story elsewhere but the response was predictable: you'll never get it back, you'll get hurt again, it was a fantasy, save yourself the trouble. 

Maybe that's true, but the thing about love is that it isn't a unit of exchange. I love her even if she never loved me, that's just how it is. With that said I don't have any real wish to return to the intense idealization, which was pleasant but never what I loved about her anyway. I don't even know if I'd want to return to a relationship. But I do care so much about her.

What I feel for her is... much different, now. It's more complicated. I look at my pictures of her and see a carefree mask over a swirling pool of fear and suffering. But in some ways it makes me love her more, to see who she's managed to become despite all she's facing. It's not her fault that she is who she is. (It's her parents' fault, almost certainly, and what they did to their beautiful girl is unforgivable.)   I was always dimly aware I wasn't seeing the whole person, before. There was something she was hiding inside. Now I feel like I might be seeing something close to it, and I'd rather love a person than a fantasy. 

If I do ever speak to her again -- and that's a pretty big if -- I have to figure out how blunt to be about what I know. I don't know how she'd react if I just said "I know you never said it, but I think I better how you're feeling now -- how much you're hurting." But I don't think I can just pretend to know nothing, either. Again, advice on this front is appreciated.

I guess my last note is to people with problems like hers. Tell your partners what you can about yourself. I hurt her and caused a bunch of pain because I didn't know enough to avoid it, and what I wouldn't give to take those words back. But also, people really can see the whole you, and love you anyway. I'd do anything to let her see herself through my eyes, or the eyes of the many others that love her. Regardless of what happens, I do intend to keep caring for and loving her her for many years -- even if I have to do it alone -- and I hope she finds some measure of peace and acceptance eventually.