That's the kind of relationship I wish everyone had. I know there are a lot of unhealthy relationships in the world and it's so much harder with the prevalence of mental illness. Quite unintentionally, I make it a lot harder for my husband to continue to show me unconditional love. But that does not make me unlovable!! Frankly, it's the nature of the beast.
Over time, I have been able to adapt and rein in a lot of my wild fantasies about what a relationship should look like. I had always imagined a person who would be there with me, to walk beside me, to be a comforting force in my life. But I had never witnessed that in real life so I thought it was all just a dream, a fantasy.
Growing up with an abusive father was torture. Not just because of how he treated me, but because of how I watched him treat my mother. I had always vowed never to be in a relationship as manipulative and controlling as the one I witnessed everyday. I was actually relieved when he abandoned me at the age of 10. He set the bar so incredibly low, that when I started having relationships of my own, I had no idea what I was looking for.
I made some big mistakes in my past, ones that shaped my future, ones that haunt me every day. Most of them stemmed from bad relationships! That's not to put the blame on my counterparts... a relationship is two-sided, not one.
It came as no surprise to my psychiatrist when I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder because he said (and I've done some research) that it's very common among young women who were molested or abandoned as children. That violation of trust early on can lead to a sense of loss and loneliness that carves deep wounds into the soul of a child. BPD manifests as the "I hate you don't leave me" syndrome. You are prone to behave in ways that push your loved ones away, but once they're halfway out the door, you realize you don't want to do life without them and struggle to get them back. I've learned as I've grown to recognize this trait that developed as a defense mechanism. It's your mind's desperate attempt to avoid being hurt or feeling that deep sense of abandonment. It's counterintuitive though! Sometimes, I have come to realize that defense much too late and sent my relationships (even with the good guys) into a tailspin that would undoubtedly end in heartache.
Until I met my husband, that is...
When I met my husband, I learned what it really felt like to be loved for who I was, not my diagnosis. Having well known my past (because we talked about everything), he was able to understand the motives behind my behavior. He understood that I sometimes act out of the need to protect myself, self-preservation. He knew I'd try to put up walls to keep him out and that I would refrain from being vulnerable to him when I felt like things could come crashing down on me. He learned that I would try to push him away before he could hurt me. And he knew better than to abuse me, belittle me, or desert me like my father had. He knew how to love me.
What I find amazing about my husband is that he actually learned a healthy way of loving despite not having a mother. He didn't get to watch the love between his father and mother blossom as he grew up. Yet, somehow, out of all of the tragedy in his childhood, he was able to learn to be a loving person, and how to be loved in return. That was also something I have struggled with over the years - and still do - to just let someone love me. Until I met my husband.
When I met my husband, it was like meeting someone that only existed in my dreams. He's sweet, cute, funny, kind, loving, jovial, respectful, responsible, and just in general a good guy. He's everything you could want in a counterpart, with none of the ugliness I had experienced before. I am beyond blessed to call myself his wife.
And sometimes that simple fact is what drives me. It fuels my love for him, yes, but also fuels my love for myself. If he can see me for who and what I am, and still love me, then I must be someone worth loving. Right? That's how my relationship with God began, too. Much in the same way, I learned in the Bible about God's love for us and how He sees us, knows everything about us, knows our strengths and our weaknesses, and still chooses to love us.
I choose love for my husband every single day. I know he does the same for me. My husband has been nothing less of a constant reminder of God's love for me. And I'm so grateful to have a godly husband to look after and take care of me... in sickness AND in health. That means I don't just count on him to be there for me when I'm depressed or manic. I am continuing to learn how to be faithful in love to him in the good times, too. When it's easy to say "I got this on my own" and hit the road... I don't. I know that he will also struggle from time to time, not unlike other human beings who are living and breathing. It's my duty to be there for him in sickness and in health, too.
That is hard. Because when you're mentally ill, specifically with BPD, you tend to set the focus on yourself - what you need - not what someone else needs. You have to learn to set that defense mechanism aside. You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable to your counterpart. In doing so, you learn a lot about yourself. And in doing so, it makes you a lot more likely to love in the purest fashion.
I could go on and on about how wonderful my husband is, but here's the truth: it takes teamwork. To manufacture a strong, healthy relationship, it takes two separate people willing to set aside their separate preservations and commit to supporting each other fully in order to become one. Sounds so simple, but it's anything but simple. Even the best people have imperfections. There is no perfect counterpart, just two imperfect people who learn together how to love each other, who choose daily to love each other, and who remain faithful to that L.O.V.E.
I am always happy to share that I am still completely, wholeheartedly, and unimaginably in love with my husband. Cheers to 7 years!! Here's to making it last!
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