Just One More Hoover Fix

The amazing high of these addictive relationships can truly be an adrenaline shot to your ego. When I was on the pedestal, it felt so good to be wanted, to feel loved for who I am. At least that's what I thought it was. Little did I know it was an illusion. A false dream. I was being manipulated by a cunning actress. The mask was firmly in place. She just couldn't keep it on consistently. Such a shame.

It was the wonderful times, which I now realize were very few and far between, that kept me going back for more punishment. The promises of "It will be different this time." or "It was the drugs. I've changed. I'm not on drugs anymore." kept me giving her just one more chance. That incredible high of feeling loved. I realize now it had nothing to do with her. It was a yearning I've had since childhood, from growing up in a combative household. Of never feeling loved by my father. Her fake persona filled a void inside of me. I allowed myself to be easiliy manipulated, because I was chasing a high.

I was willing to put up with an incredible amount of abuse and betrayal to attain this high. It was a vicious cycle. I was trauma bonded to the BPD. I had PTSD. I wasn't taking care of myself physically. Felt lonely, worthless. Easy pickings for a manipulative BPD like my ex. The more power you give a BPD, like love and trust, the more vulnerable you become. Real mature adult relationships aren't like this. BPDs exploit those needs in us. They abuse that trust. They stomp on the love and then set it on fire. It's amazing they have the gall to try and worm their way back into our lives after such heavy betrayals, but they do.

My ex just shut it out. To her, it didn't happen, and she believed that. Truly. She had to make up the most outrageous lies to justify her behavior. It truly was...well...insane. I was being gaslighted. She was using projection and projective identification to transfer all of her guilt onto me. I was very weak emotionally, so it worked. I can't count how many nights I'd lay awake, still in shock, with this throbbing pain gnawing at my gut, going over every nuance of those conversations (When I caught her cheating), thinking I should have said this, or said that. Or if maybe I had acted differently, this would have not happened. My mind was working in overdrive, maticulously replaying instance in my head. It drove me nuts.

The truth is, it would have happened regardless. That's the ultimate truth. She cannot control herself or her impulsive behaviors.

We all heal at our own pace. After going through several hoover episodes, it has finally sunk in with me. I finally "get it". Acceptance. It's not easy. You want to think that the person you love is in there somewhere, but the hardest thing to realize and understand is that the person I loved was never real. She never existed. I was just an object fulfilling a need at a specific time. It wasn't about love. I honestly feel like a discarded teddy bear. Once a favorite toy, now cast aside with the other junk in the toybox. It's really sad when you think about it.