Understanding The Mine-Field Of The Personality Disordered.
And not losing your own self if you love somebody with one.
I was brought up in what may be aptly termed as reigned chaos. I have a borderline mother, narcissistic father, schizophrenic middle brother and narcissistic elder brother. Don’t laugh.
Thanking my lucky somethings, I have managed to muddle through life sans personality disorder; but not without a few healthy scoops of complex PTSD, depression and anxiety to boot along the road. To add a cherry atop my scoops, I married my university sweetheart, who 2.5 years ago, was diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder.
You might be noticing a recurrent theme here — yes, I am like a magnet for the personality disordered. Bear with me.
My husband and I severed ties not long after his diagnosis. The loss of our marriage sent me spiraling head-first into the dark abyss where finally I needed to confront the many recurrent themes in my life: why I kept making the same mistakes with friends and family, again and again, and again. Flatly, I was caught up in the crazy dance of repetition-compulsion — or in simple terms, repeating the relationships of my childhood in my adult life in order to finally achieve some mastery over what is rooted in a time many moons ago.
