Having an argument with a jealous
paranoid schizophrenic person with undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder is a bit like having an argument with an angry, hungry bear. I mean, you can try your hardest to fight back, making as much noise as you can and generally making yourself look as big and as scary as possible, but ultimately, you know you are going to die. That bear is going to rip your head off, tear your limbs away from your body, and then devour you from the inside out.
My angry Bear is jealous again. I’ve been trying to refrain from moaning about my relationship too much this time around, mostly because he knows about the blog, but also because I know I shouldn’t moan about the little, silly, petty things anymore. What’s the point? I’m all about picking my battles in life these days and some of them just aren’t worth it. So, I let them wash over me. I let the little things slide. I don’t write about it because, for the most part, it’s not big enough or dramatic enough to write about. Plus I feel I have a lot to be thankful for: I don’t think he’s a fuckboy, he doesn’t cheat on me, he doesn’t beat me up. Generally, he treats me pretty good.
That’s when he’s in a good mood, though.
The bad moods … They’re something else.
I was on the couch and he was flitting about the rest of the apartment. I’d been trying to figure out Snapchat for what feels like the millionth time and getting nowhere fast. I gave up, exited the app, and locked my phone at the same time that Bear entered the room behind me.
“Don’t bother hiding your phone on my account.”
Oh fuck, look what I did. I hate it when I make him jealous because it’s always over something totally ridiculous. The guy has nothing to worry about. Like, literally, nothing to worry about. I don’t socialise that much. I’m not interested in 99% of the people I meet, even as every-now-and-then friends. When would I get the chance to cheat on him? And with whom?! I work all the time, we’ve covered this already … I’m depressed, throwing myself into work, avoiding the outside world. That’s what I do.
“Oh, I was just checking Snapchat.”
“But you don’t like Snapchat. You said you’d never get it.”
“I know, but everyone’s using these cute filters and I want them.”
I offered to show him what I was doing. He told me that he didn’t want to see what was on my phone … and then he didn’t talk to me for hours.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, you know what I get like when an idea is in my head. I’m angry and I’m just trying to calm down.”
More hours of me sat at one side of the table, tapping away, and him at the other, rocking his moody face, doodling away.
I tried to make conversation and was met by one-word answers. I tried to give him a kiss and he acted like I wasn’t even in the room. I offered to make him something to eat and a drink and he just said no and carried on doing what he was doing, moody face still firmly in position. I can still remember the clenching-unclenching jawline.
It’s like I’m being punished for the cheating incident that happened in his head — that never happened in real life. I said that to him, which of course erupted in the biggest of fights. If nothing else I’ve met my argumentative match with Bear. Our fights are so one-sided most of the time he might as well just have them by himself. That’s how it feels, anyway.
The honeymoon period of our relationship is most definitely over. There are cracks. Not enough to rip us apart (hopefully), but the cracks are there for sure.
He gets so angry and I’m finding it more and more difficult to talk to him. When I do have something to say he bites my head off, we have a blazing row and then I need to wait a couple of hours for him to calm down before he comes back to me and says he’s sorry. It’s the same pattern every time, but I know he’s trying to change it. I can see the good changes he’s making every day, but that dark, angry, paranoid
schizophrenic BPD side of him … well, I guess that won’t ever go away. Not entirely.
It’s a lot harder to deal with than I first thought. That’s probably why some of the bad stuff hasn’t made its way on to the blog: I didn’t want to admit that I’m struggling a bit, but I really am, in so many ways. Sometimes, it’s like he has me to help him deal with the bad shit, but I don’t have him. He doesn’t have my back, not really, because he’s too busy being angry in his own little world. I’m never allowed to be upset or angry because whatever I say makes him upset or angry, and then we need to deal with that first. By the time he comes back to apologise, what I had to say in the first place is forgotten about. Or it’s no longer important or relevant.
And then I said that thing:
“If you’re going to punish me and act like this when I haven’t cheated, I might as well just go and cheat. Either way, I’m getting punished. Stop it.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Of course I shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t seem to get him out of that bad mood. I couldn’t drag him out of the black storm, clenching jawline and all. He was in it and he was riding it, right to the very end, and no amount of flirting, giggling, smiling or kissing him was going to change that. And, let’s go back to how all this started in the first place: I was just on Snapchat — trying to learn how to Snapchat. How the fuck did Snapchat turn into such a big fight? I’m now in bed, blogging by myself, and he’s on the couch, sulking.
I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my voice a little here. If I don’t do something about it – if I don’t find my ‘power’ again – I’m going to drown. I’m finding myself NOT saying things to him, NOT bringing up things that have upset me, biting my tongue all the time, and that’s making it even worse. You know what happens then: it comes up in a later argument that isn’t even related and I end up reeling off this list of things he’s done that royally pisses me off, leaving him feeling like he’s not good enough.
I have been damn patient with this man with his jealous tendencies. I know that I need to give him special allowances because of his condition, but I have done that. I am doing that. Tonight’s little episode was a fucking joke, though. I want to punch him square in the face sometimes. I wouldn’t put up with this bullshit from anyone else, that’s for sure.
How do I make this guy see that there is literally no other guy on the planet? There is nothing and no one else I want, that I could ever want. When he’s not being a paranoid fucking lunatic, Bear is the closest thing I’m ever going to find to my actual soul mate, I think. He’s like the Bestie I actually want to fuck. He’s my best friend and my boyfriend all rolled into one. This is all I’ve ever wanted from a man, so why won’t he believe that he’s enough?
I’m so mad at him right now. We had a shitty day, held it together really well, and then tonight happened. He lost his fucking shit again. I got eaten by the angry, hungry bear. It seems to happen a lot to me recently; I just don’t know how to ‘fight’ with this man. I don’t want to fight with him, but I can’t just be argued AT all the time.
How do I find my voice again?
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