u/totteridgewhetstone

I'm 46, male, and based in the UK. I'm confident in my writing and ideas, but what I struggle with is finding the focus and prioritising actually doing the work. To make things worse, I'm constantly coming up with new ideas! I'd really like to take my writing more seriously.

I'd like to find someone who I'm able to check in with, maybe once a week or every other week or so, just to talk about what we're writing (if you/me are comfortable), but moreover, keeping each other accountable - perhaps being able to talk about aims, wordcount, etc. I'm a therapist in my working life, so I'm very comfortable offering this same thing to people in return.

Not sure what other information I would need to provide but happy to do so!

I experienced 'discard' just a few weeks ago, and at the suggestion of our former couples therapist, began exploring a little around relationships with BPD individuals. What I found was enlightening, very saddening, and in some cases, reassuringly predictable. It fit a little too neatly to be coincidence.

I have found one of the hardest aspects of the discard being how I was left to 'hold' the entire relationship; not just the chaos of our 18 months together, but the suddenness of the ending, the way I was characterised in that ending, and the cauterisation. I understand a little more now about the wound in myself that may have created and contributed to what happened, but both things can be true - it was a lot to bear.

In time, I came to a place where I felt very strongly that I wanted to reclaim a part of myself. I felt bullied; abused. I decided to take a couple of actions which I remain pleased I did, even though they had varying degrees of difficult consequences.

I felt very sad that I never got to say goodbye. I had a sense of what was going on, and like many, I had been told in the aftermath of the discard, explicitly, "don't contact me again and throw away my stuff. I don't want it". But the goodbye felt important to me. I knew the response I would get, which I am sure if you're on this subreddit you can probably guess, and that's exactly what happened.

She had a lot of stuff at my house, some of which was, I knew, important to her. It predated our relationship. Some of it was decades old. I didn't want to spend a painful journey throwing it all away, and it wasn't my responsibility to do so. So, I carefully packaged it and had it couriered to her house. This was, unsurprisingly, "harassment".

After a couple of weeks and some intense therapy, I have been feeling bullied. Like I wanted to stand up for myself. Again, I had a sense of what the response might be and that even if I chose my words very carefully - and I did, of course - that sending an email telling her I had spent a large part of our relationship afraid of her anger was likely not going to end well. But it felt important to me, for my integrity. I'm aware I sound like an idiot. But I'm also guessing if you're reading this you've been there or similar.

The response was catastrophic. A single email was met with four responses within an hour and a half, and then messages to my friends and family telling them I was abusive, she was worried about my mental health, and she would be making a complaint about me to my professional body (I am a therapist) and possibly to the police. My email was a "tirade" and "astonishing". Every accusation, as per usual, a painful projection.

I am not worried about complaints particularly. The nature of the relationship speaks for itself, and I have everything saved.

I don't know why I'm writing this. I'm very shaken up. I have had to make the difficult decision to protect myself, and report it to the police as 'information only'. I don't want her to get into trouble, and I have a sense of what that kind of escalation might do to someone in a fragile state. I couldn't live with that on my conscience.

But I am not sorry I did it, and I am not sorry I told my truth. I'm going to guess many of you have felt the same as me coming out the other side of those relationships - small, battered, afraid. I just wanted to perhaps offer this thread as a place where strength could be shared. Perhaps you're not as stupid as me, and prefer to keep yourself to yourself. No contact is the best way forward, and make no mistake - I've said my piece now.

Thank you, if you've read this far.

I wish I’d have known then what I know now.

I’m currently navigating my way through a heartbreak I know is the best thing for me, but hurts like hell nonetheless. I (M46) was summarily discarded this past weekend by my partner of 18 months, (F46) who has BPD.

My experience was fairly typical of BPD relationships in some ways, less so in others. I wasn’t as drawn in by some during the ‘idolisation’ stage, but managed to navigate my way through two break-ups and all the madness that comes with that by being pretty consistent. She was getting therapy, and we were in therapy together that was producing some good results albeit at a cost, but it’s a longer journey than time would allow us to have.

Unfortunately, we reached a point where I could no longer be an infinite container for the anger and the irrationality, and the being expected to immediately intuit that some small, incidental thing might cause some enormous eruption. After our last ‘argument’ (over the positioning of a pillow being rejecting) I felt absolutely exhausted.

I knew how it would end, and so it came to pass. After a WhatsApp message ending our relationship, I sent her one offering her some kindness. Soon after, the next day, she found some hook by which to cast me as a villain, and when I didn’t reply (for the first time in our relationship, a deliberate choice) they escalated, and escalated, included name-calling, accusations, bullying (in the form of screenshots of conversations with friends all agreeing I was ‘manipulative’ and ironically, ‘bullying’) and then finally, cutting off. I’m blocking you, I don’t want my stuff, never contact me again. Just 72 hours earlier she had been telling me how much she loved me. I understand this was also part of the condition, and am not putting any more stock in this than any of the name calling.

In hindsight, looking at the relationship through the lens of BPD things make a lot of sense. A tattoo after a couple of months she said was related to when we met, which she got even though I told her it made me uncomfortable. The reactiveness. The power of the words. How she would describe me to others. The endings, the reconciliation, and the ability to code-switch back to being ‘so in love’ so fast. And why I compromised so readily; blurred my own boundaries, made concessions, gave her endless financial and emotional support to try and make her life a better place. I used to tell her “you don’t need to set the bar low for yourself”.

I can now see some of the reasons things were beginning to feel to unsatisfying for me. We never got to me because she had all the ways to bring it back round to her.

The worst part is that I miss my friend. I feel nothing but compassion for her. I see the pain in her words, and while I know in the moments of calling me names, or using the most painful thing she can find to say as a weapon, she genuinely believes those things to be true and valid. I also know there’d be an underlying horror to the other part of her if she ever really understood the impact of her behaviour. She’s a good person with a wonderful heart, as are the overwhelming majority of people I’ve ever met with BPD, and a brilliant mother to her young son, but what has happened was inevitable, and I know I just have to sit in this painful silence.

I wish I could help her in some way, but I know I very specifically am the person who cannot.

For anyone reading this with similar experiences, I found Lisa Leblanc’s videos very helpful to contextualise some of mine. I also found it very helpful to examine, as so many videos and articles suggest one does, the question of what it is I miss – is it the whole person or just the good moments? Is it just being with a person and not alone? Is it the promise of what I hoped it might be, or the reality? And, of course, I know I need to look at myself and my role in all of this. But that's tomorrow's work. Today's is the grief.

As so many inevitably know – you’re there, or you’ve been there, if you’re reading this – that there's a huge part of me that would swap it all just for the chance to see her one more time. To kiss her face. Or just to say goodbye.

Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.

I wish I’d have known then what I know now.

I’m currently navigating my way through a heartbreak I know is the best thing for me, but hurts like hell nonetheless. I (M46) was summarily discarded this past weekend by my partner of 18 months, (F46) who has BPD.

My experience was fairly typical of BPD relationships in some ways, less so in others. I wasn’t as drawn in by some during the ‘idolisation’ stage, but managed to navigate my way through two break-ups and all the madness that comes with that by being pretty consistent. She was getting therapy, and we were in therapy together that was producing some good results albeit at a cost, but it’s a longer journey than time would allow us to have.

Unfortunately, we reached a point where I could no longer be an infinite container for the anger and the irrationality, and the being expected to immediately intuit that some small, incidental thing might cause some enormous eruption. After our last ‘argument’ (over the positioning of a pillow being rejecting) I felt absolutely exhausted.

I knew how it would end, and so it came to pass. After a WhatsApp message ending our relationship, I sent her one offering her some kindness. Soon after, the next day, she found some hook by which to cast me as a villain, and when I didn’t reply (for the first time in our relationship, a deliberate choice) they escalated, and escalated, included name-calling, accusations, bullying (in the form of screenshots of conversations with friends all agreeing I was ‘manipulative’ and ironically, ‘bullying’) and then finally, cutting off. I’m blocking you, I don’t want my stuff, never contact me again. Just 72 hours earlier she had been telling me how much she loved me. I understand this was also part of the condition, and am not putting any more stock in this than any of the name calling.

In hindsight, looking at the relationship through the lens of BPD things make a lot of sense. A tattoo after a couple of months she said was related to when we met, which she got even though I told her it made me uncomfortable. The reactiveness. The power of the words. How she would describe me to others. The endings, the reconciliation, and the ability to code-switch back to being ‘so in love’ so fast. And why I compromised so readily; blurred my own boundaries, made concessions, gave her endless financial and emotional support to try and make her life a better place. I used to tell her “you don’t need to set the bar low for yourself”.

I can now see some of the reasons things were beginning to feel to unsatisfying for me. We never got to me because she had all the ways to bring it back round to her.

The worst part is that I miss my friend. I feel nothing but compassion for her. I see the pain in her words, and while I know in the moments of calling me names, or using the most painful thing she can find to say as a weapon, she genuinely believes those things to be true and valid. I also know there’d be an underlying horror to the other part of her if she ever really understood the impact of her behaviour. She’s a good person with a wonderful heart, as are the overwhelming majority of people I’ve ever met with BPD, and a brilliant mother to her young son, but what has happened was inevitable, and I know I just have to sit in this painful silence.

I wish I could help her in some way, but I know I very specifically am the person who cannot.

For anyone reading this with similar experiences, I found Lisa Leblanc’s videos very helpful to contextualise some of mine. I also found it very helpful to examine, as so many videos and articles suggest one does, the question of what it is I miss – is it the whole person or just the good moments? Is it just being with a person and not alone? Is it the promise of what I hoped it might be, or the reality? And, of course, I know I need to look at myself and my role in all of this. But that's tomorrow's work. Today's is the grief.

As so many inevitably know – you’re there, or you’ve been there, if you’re reading this – that there's a huge part of me that would swap it all just for the chance to see her one more time. To kiss her face. Or just to say goodbye.

Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.

I wish I’d have known then what I know now.

I’m currently navigating my way through a heartbreak I know is the best thing for me, but hurts like hell nonetheless. I (M46) was summarily discarded this past weekend by my partner of 18 months, (F46) who has BPD.

My experience was fairly typical of BPD relationships in some ways, less so in others. I wasn’t as drawn in by some during the ‘idolisation’ stage, but managed to navigate my way through two break-ups and all the madness that comes with that by being pretty consistent. She was getting therapy, and we were in therapy together that was producing some good results albeit at a cost, but it’s a longer journey than time would allow us to have.

Unfortunately, we reached a point where I could no longer be an infinite container for the anger and the irrationality, and the being expected to immediately intuit that some small, incidental thing might cause some enormous eruption. After our last ‘argument’ (over the positioning of a pillow being rejecting) I felt absolutely exhausted.

I knew how it would end, and so it came to pass. After a WhatsApp message ending our relationship, I sent her one offering her some kindness. Soon after, the next day, she found some hook by which to cast me as a villain, and when I didn’t reply (for the first time in our relationship, a deliberate choice) they escalated, and escalated, included name-calling, accusations, bullying (in the form of screenshots of conversations with friends all agreeing I was ‘manipulative’ and ironically, ‘bullying’) and then finally, cutting off. I’m blocking you, I don’t want my stuff, never contact me again. Just 72 hours earlier she had been telling me how much she loved me. I understand this was also part of the condition, and am not putting any more stock in this than any of the name calling.

In hindsight, looking at the relationship through the lens of BPD things make a lot of sense. A tattoo after a couple of months she said was related to when we met, which she got even though I told her it made me uncomfortable. The reactiveness. The power of the words. How she would describe me to others. The endings, the reconciliation, and the ability to code-switch back to being ‘so in love’ so fast. And why I compromised so readily; blurred my own boundaries, made concessions, gave her endless financial and emotional support to try and make her life a better place. I used to tell her “you don’t need to set the bar low for yourself”.

I can now see some of the reasons things were beginning to feel to unsatisfying for me. We never got to me because she had all the ways to bring it back round to her.

The worst part is that I miss my friend. I feel nothing but compassion for her. I see the pain in her words, and while I know in the moments of calling me names, or using the most painful thing she can find to say as a weapon, she genuinely believes those things to be true and valid. I also know there’d be an underlying horror to the other part of her if she ever really understood the impact of her behaviour. She’s a good person with a wonderful heart, as are the overwhelming majority of people I’ve ever met with BPD, and a brilliant mother to her young son, but what has happened was inevitable, and I know I just have to sit in this painful silence.

I wish I could help her in some way, but I know I very specifically am the person who cannot.

For anyone reading this with similar experiences, I found Lisa Leblanc’s videos very helpful to contextualise some of mine. I also found it very helpful to examine, as so many videos and articles suggest one does, the question of what it is I miss – is it the whole person or just the good moments? Is it just being with a person and not alone? Is it the promise of what I hoped it might be, or the reality? And, of course, I know I need to look at myself and my role in all of this. But that's tomorrow's work. Today's is the grief.

As so many inevitably know – you’re there, or you’ve been there, if you’re reading this – that there's a huge part of me that would swap it all just for the chance to see her one more time. To kiss her face. Or just to say goodbye.

Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.

I wish I’d have known then what I know now.

I’m currently navigating my way through a heartbreak I know is the best thing for me, but hurts like hell nonetheless. I (M46) was summarily discarded this past weekend by my partner of 18 months, (F46).

My experience was fairly typical in some ways, less so in others. I wasn’t as drawn in by some during the ‘idolisation’ stage, but managed to navigate my way through two break-ups and all the madness that comes with that by being pretty consistent. She was getting therapy, and we were in therapy together that was producing some good results albeit at a cost, but it’s a longer journey than time would allow us to have.

Unfortunately, we reached a point where I could no longer be an infinite container for the anger and the irrationality, and the being expected to immediately intuit that some small, incidental thing might cause some enormous eruption. After our last ‘argument’ (over the positioning of a pillow being rejecting) I felt absolutely exhausted.

I knew how it would end, and so it came to pass. After a WhatsApp message ending our relationship, I sent her one offering her some kindness. Soon after, the next day, she found some hook by which to cast me as a villain, and when I didn’t reply (for the first time in our relationship, a deliberate choice) they escalated, and escalated, included name-calling, accusations, bullying (in the form of screenshots of conversations with friends all agreeing I was ‘manipulative’ and ironically, ‘bullying’) and then finally, cutting off. I’m blocking you, I don’t want my stuff, never contact me again. Just 72 hours earlier she had been telling me how much she loved me. I understand this was also part of the condition, and am not putting any more stock in this than any of the name calling.

In hindsight, through the lens of BPD things make a lot of sense. A tattoo after a couple of months she said was related to when we met, which she got even though I told her it made me uncomfortable. The reactiveness. The power of the words. How she would describe me to others. The endings, the reconciliation, and the ability to code-switch back to being ‘so in love’ so fast. And why I compromised so readily; blurred my own boundaries, made concessions, gave her endless financial and emotional support to try and make her life a better place. I used to tell her “you don’t need to set the bar low for yourself”.

I can now see some of the reasons things were beginning to feel to unsatisfying for me. We never got to me because she had all the ways to bring it back round to her.

The worst part is that I miss my friend. I feel nothing but compassion for her. I see the pain in her words, and while I know in the moments of calling me names, or using the most painful thing she can find to say as a weapon, she genuinely believes those things to be true and valid. I also know there’d be an underlying horror to the other part of her if she ever really understood the impact of her behaviour. She’s a good person with a wonderful heart, as are the overwhelming majority of people I’ve ever met with BPD, and a brilliant mother to her young son, but what has happened was inevitable, and I know I just have to sit in this painful silence.

I wish I could help her in some way, but I know I very specifically am the person who cannot.

I’m writing this for myself but also for others who might, as I did, come onto Reddit and search for supportive spaces. I found Lisa Leblanc’s videos very helpful to contextualise some of my experiences. I also found it very helpful to examine, as so many videos and articles suggest one does, the question of what it is I miss – is it the whole person or just the good moments? Is it just being with a person and not alone? Is it the promise of what I hoped it might be, or the reality?

But, as so many inevitably know – you’re there, or you’ve been there, if you’re reading this – even knowing all of this, I’d swap it all just for the chance to see her one more time. To kiss her face. Or just to say goodbye.

Thanks for reading, if you made it this far.

I'm sorry if this is a little long. I'm feeling a little in shock and struggling to come to terms with this.

​

Edit: I've just seen the whole length of this post. I want to leave it all in, but want to sincerely thank you in advance if you read it, regardless of whether you respond.

​

I've just come out of an 18 month relationship with (F42). We both went into it knowing we both had things to work on, and had couples and individual therapy throughout. There was real love and real warmth. But there was a pattern I could never escape, and I'm trying to understand it now it's over.

​

The pattern

​

When things were good, I was the love of her life. She got a tattoo related to our relationship within a couple of months of it starting, even when I said it made me uncomfortable. Within the same week, sometimes the same day, I could go from a figure of adoration to someone who was cruel, cold, a gaslighter, emotionally unavailable. No gradient. Just brilliant or in crisis, with nothing stable in between.

​

During conflicts she made character attacks rather than naming specific behaviours — not "that hurt me" but "you are cruel and unkind." She ended the relationship three times in 18 months, each time with immediate total withdrawal. Each time in response to conflicts that didn't seem to warrant that level of response.

​

When I did name how I was feeling, the conversation would immediately shift to my motives or character rather than the feeling itself. My feelings went on trial before they were allowed to exist. And when they were acknowledged at all, I became responsible for managing her crashing reaction to them rather than having the feelings themselves heard. If I tried to hold the line, I was bullying her into acknowledging them. One time I was told "... I'm sorry it hurt, but it was true. Sorry if that hurts your self image".

​

There was also a consistent double standard around accountability. She would ask me for unqualified apologies for the impact of my words regardless of intent — and I gave them. When I asked for the same in return, I was told the statement was factually correct and I just didn't like being called out.

​

Threats of withdrawal were used repeatedly as a response to conflict — the relationship being ended or withheld as a way of managing disagreement rather than engaging with it. Financial compensation was offered after ruptures as a substitute for genuine accountability.

​

There was also a pattern around her own distress that I found very hard to name at the time. When she was struggling, it was never simply "I'm having a hard time." It was devastation. Brokenness. Being utterly shot in heart and mind. Sleepless nights. Crying for hours. Feeling alone in the world. The intensity of her lows matched the intensity of her highs — and I came to understand that this wasn't just how she felt, it was also how conflict ended. When I named something difficult or held a line, what followed wasn't engagement with what I'd raised. It was her pain arriving — enormous, urgent, impossible to ignore. And in the face of that, whatever I'd been trying to say became secondary. I became focused on her suffering rather than the original issue. Whether it was conscious or not, her vulnerability functioned as a deflection. The conversation always ended up being about how much she was hurting, how hard her life was, how depleted she was — and my feelings waited. They usually never arrived.

​

Over time I began to feel smaller. Less certain of myself. Less able to trust my own perceptions. I started to question whether I was the problem, whether I was seeing things clearly, whether my own experience was valid. It was only when I looked at the pattern clearly, from the outside, that I recognised what had been happening.

​

What I gave to the relationship

​

I do believe I was consistently generous — financially, emotionally, practically. Too generous. I took accountability for the things I got wrong. I showed up. I genuinely loved her. The things she could point to were real, and I don’t dismiss them, but I don’t think they explain or justify the scale of what followed — occasional defensiveness, not always responding perfectly to her feelings in the moment, not visiting her place instead of mine as often as I'd agreed. One time, in the early days and in the midst of a conflict, I very regretably said "I think you might be having a manic episode". I owned all of it. All held against me as reasons to justify her characterisation of me during difficult moments.

​

The thing I'm most troubled by

​

Early in the relationship she described me to her close friends in terms extreme enough that they concluded I was abusive and distanced themselves from her over it. When I raised how painful and alarming that was, I and our therapist were told she couldn't control what they thought. It took months and multiple therapy sessions for her to even partially acknowledge her role in it.

​

This morning, ending things for the third time, she used my deepest personal wounds as ammunition — a parent leaving in childhood, a previous marriage ending — to suggest that yet again someone had left me, and it was my fault.

​

What I'm trying to understand

​

I recognise almost all the standard markers of emotional abuse in my experience. But I find it hard to hold that, partly because I love her and can see the pain underneath her behaviour, and partly because I know she'd be devastated to see herself this way. She was working hard on herself. The progress was real. And yet here we are.

​

I'm not perfect and I haven't pretended to be. I got things wrong, and I looked at them honestly, at real cost. What I've only recently found the strength to name is that the relationship itself was harmful to me — something I resisted for a long time because I loved her and could see the pain underneath everything she did.

This Friday, for the first time, I held my ground. I named the pattern clearly and asked for her to acknowledge that her decision not to come to a evening out I'd organised (cancelling at 1pm because she wanted to "chill" when we were due to meet at 630) was disappointing and had taken a lot of organisation. By Saturday morning I was being told I was cold, avoidant, a gaslighter, impossible to love — and the relationship was over.

​

I find myself tonight heartbroken and alone. But I understand it differently now than I did even this morning. That feels like something. I want to stress that I understand the difference between an abuser and something abusive. But I'm finding it hard to define these actions and this dynamic as anything else.

​

I want to acknowledge that she would likely describe me and our relationship in similar terms — that she felt unsafe, unheard, that her feelings weren't received. I don't want to dismiss that, and have to be willing to consider it. I'm also aware that many of the posts I have seen on this subreddit are written by women and I want to be conscious about that and treat it sensitively.

​

But the direction the harm ran was consistent. She attacked, I absorbed. She withdrew, I reached. She named my character, I named my behaviour. I asked myself repeatedly whether I was the problem. I'm not saying these things to defend myself. But I do think it is an important distinction.

​

Thank you for reading. I just needed somewhere to put it.

​

Was what I experienced emotional abuse? Does it matter if she didn't intend it that way?

I'm sorry if this is a little long. I'm feeling a little in shock and struggling to come to terms with this.

​

Edit: I've just seen the whole length of this post. I want to leave it all in, but want to sincerely thank you in advance if you read it, regardless of whether you respond.

​

I've just come out of an 18 month relationship with (F42). We both went into it knowing we both had things to work on, and had couples and individual therapy throughout. There was real love and real warmth. But there was a pattern I could never escape, and I'm trying to understand it now it's over.

​

**The pattern**

​

When things were good, I was the love of her life. She got a tattoo related to our relationship within a couple of months of it starting, even when I said it made me uncomfortable. Within the same week, sometimes the same day, I could go from a figure of adoration to someone who was cruel, cold, a gaslighter, emotionally unavailable. No gradient. Just brilliant or in crisis, with nothing stable in between.

​

During conflicts she made character attacks rather than naming specific behaviours — not "that hurt me" but "you are cruel and unkind." She ended the relationship three times in 18 months, each time with immediate total withdrawal. Each time in response to conflicts that didn't seem to warrant that level of response.

​

When I did name how I was feeling, the conversation would immediately shift to my motives or character rather than the feeling itself. My feelings went on trial before they were allowed to exist. And when they were acknowledged at all, I became responsible for managing her crashing reaction to them rather than having the feelings themselves heard. If I tried to hold the line, I was bullying her into acknowledging them. One time I was told "... I'm sorry it hurt, but it was true. Sorry if that hurts your self image".

​

There was also a consistent double standard around accountability. She would ask me for unqualified apologies for the impact of my words regardless of intent — and I gave them. When I asked for the same in return, I was told the statement was factually correct and I just didn't like being called out.

​

Threats of withdrawal were used repeatedly as a response to conflict — the relationship being ended or withheld as a way of managing disagreement rather than engaging with it. Financial compensation was offered after ruptures as a substitute for genuine accountability.

​

There was also a pattern around her own distress that I found very hard to name at the time. When she was struggling, it was never simply "I'm having a hard time." It was devastation. Brokenness. Being utterly shot in heart and mind. Sleepless nights. Crying for hours. Feeling alone in the world. The intensity of her lows matched the intensity of her highs — and I came to understand that this wasn't just how she felt, it was also how conflict ended. When I named something difficult or held a line, what followed wasn't engagement with what I'd raised. It was her pain arriving — enormous, urgent, impossible to ignore. And in the face of that, whatever I'd been trying to say became secondary. I became focused on her suffering rather than the original issue. Whether it was conscious or not, her vulnerability functioned as a deflection. The conversation always ended up being about how much she was hurting, how hard her life was, how depleted she was — and my feelings waited. They usually never arrived.

​

Over time I began to feel smaller. Less certain of myself. Less able to trust my own perceptions. I started to question whether I was the problem, whether I was seeing things clearly, whether my own experience was valid. It was only when I looked at the pattern clearly, from the outside, that I recognised what had been happening.

​

**What I gave to the relationship**

​

I do believe I was consistently generous — financially, emotionally, practically. Too generous. I took accountability for the things I got wrong. I showed up. I genuinely loved her. The things she could point to were real, and I don’t dismiss them, but I don’t think they explain or justify the scale of what followed — occasional defensiveness, not always responding perfectly to her feelings in the moment, not visiting her place instead of mine as often as I'd agreed. One time, in the early days and in the midst of a conflict, I very regretably said "I think you might be having a manic episode". I owned all of it. All held against me as reasons to justify her characterisation of me during difficult moments.

​

**The thing I'm most troubled by**

​

Early in the relationship she described me to her close friends in terms extreme enough that they concluded I was abusive and distanced themselves from her over it. When I raised how painful and alarming that was, I and our therapist were told she couldn't control what they thought. It took months and multiple therapy sessions for her to even partially acknowledge her role in it.

​

This morning, ending things for the third time, she used my deepest personal wounds as ammunition — a parent leaving in childhood, a previous marriage ending — to suggest that yet again someone had left me, and it was my fault.

​

**What I'm trying to understand**

​

I recognise almost all the standard markers of emotional abuse in my experience. But I find it hard to hold that, partly because I love her and can see the pain underneath her behaviour, and partly because I know she'd be devastated to see herself this way. She was working hard on herself. The progress was real. And yet here we are.

​

I'm not perfect and I haven't pretended to be. I got things wrong, and I looked at them honestly, at real cost. What I've only recently found the strength to name is that the relationship itself was harmful to me — something I resisted for a long time because I loved her and could see the pain underneath everything she did.

This Friday, for the first time, I held my ground. I named the pattern clearly and asked for her to acknowledge that her decision not to come to a evening out I'd organised (cancelling at 1pm because she wanted to "chill" when we were due to meet at 630) was disappointing and had taken a lot of organisation. By Saturday morning I was being told I was cold, avoidant, a gaslighter, impossible to love — and the relationship was over.

​

I find myself tonight heartbroken and alone. But I understand it differently now than I did even this morning. That feels like something. I want to stress that I understand the difference between an abuser and something abusive. But I'm finding it hard to define these actions and this dynamic as anything else.

​

I want to acknowledge that she would likely describe me and our relationship in similar terms — that she felt unsafe, unheard, that her feelings weren't received. I don't want to dismiss that, and have to be willing to consider it. I'm also aware that many of the posts I have seen on this subreddit are written by women and I want to be conscious about that and treat it sensitively.

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But the direction the harm ran was consistent. She attacked, I absorbed. She withdrew, I reached. She named my character, I named my behaviour. I asked myself repeatedly whether I was the problem. I'm not saying these things to defend myself. But I do think it is an important distinction.

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Thank you for reading. I just needed somewhere to put it.

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Was what I experienced emotional abuse? Does it matter if she didn't intend it that way?