The lost relationship I am about to tell you about was over long before it began, but for the sake of time, it has been officially over for a year and four months. I mourned for a good six to eight months but then believed I was over it, until I moved back to the area I had moved away from to get away from this ex. I have been back three weeks and being here are made me become overwhelmed with grief and sorrow again, and in a lot of ways, it shows me I wasn't as over it as I thought.
I have a tendency to repress things and therefore I believe this is what I did.
I entered a relationship with a female whom I knew was mentally ill, but how ill, I would have never known until I became romantically involved with her. Come to find out, she has borderline multiple personality disorder.
As you can imagine, this created many hurdles to jump over. One day she loved me, the next day one of her other personalities didn't. I began to identify several different personalities and soon came to realize which certain personalities loved me and which hated me. She was also severely depressed which is common in this condition, and this led to alcohol abuse. As you can imagine, she was on heavy and several medications. Little to no alcohol would have been a mixture for destruction, add excessive alcohol intake and it equaled long nights of being up until five, six or seven AM fighting. A twelve hour period could create anywhere from three to six different outbursts; happy, sad, angry...etc. All in one night I would endure this.
Sometimes she would wake in the morning and tell me to leave and the minute I would go to leave she'd beg me to stay.
Sometimes she would punch the mailbox outside, tell me she never loved me and then cry the minute I decided I would have had enough.
Many of my friends can ask how I ever even felt romance for her, how I could feel anything but sympathy and friendship?
Let's put it this way, by the time I realized how severely sick she was, I was already blinded by her looks and the way I felt for her as a person, when she was her full self, when the alcohol wasn't too much, or when she decided to take her medication.
Some nights she'd leave me at parties and walk home, only to call me and tell me to come get her. The minute I would, she'd tell me to go wait at her house. The confusion and uproar was a constant.
At the end of our relationship, I realized she was speaking to another person romantically. This ended everything for me. I cut it off at this point, but this never meant I stopped answering her call.
If anyone here knew me, they would know I have a strong personality which does not tolerate bull**it. But for her, it was, and always has been different.
It was so horrible yet so great and I am not over it for some reason.