When she(Miss BPD) got home that Friday Night I let the cat out of the bag about moving out to spend some time with my daughter but that I was not breaking up with her. No matter how many times I said it or how many times I reworded it or how many times I stated it in the most carefully crafted fashion she was relentless. I must have said I was NOT breaking up with her ten thousand times. She never "heard"it.
Relentless crying, relentless scary body language, a relentless disbelief that I was not breaking up with her, a relentless etc. I ended the statement with etc. because she was like a broken record repeating itself over and over. A broken vinyl record repeats itself over and over again relentlessly until someone lifts the needle or turns off the turntable. Neither was happening.
After God knows how long I finally said, "why can't you understand me that I am NOT breaking up with you"? Sitting on the floor with her arms drooped like rubber on the carpet and dark glazed eyes slowly looking upward she replied, "because I am sick".
I believed her.
Yours truly vaguely recalls gently telling her I need to just pack a few things and headed upstairs. Standing at the closet she hit me as hard as she could in the back! Stunned with pain and shock I almost turned around to backhand the hell out of her! She knew I had a bad back. WTF! Instead, I turned around and thought to myself, self, this is how people end up in the newspaper. I did not want either of us to go there.
The kids bedroom was next to the master bedroom where we stood and they began to cry. Immediately, I thought the kids will be my ticket out of there. If I could get her to go take care of them I could make like a wonder bread truck and haul buns! Things were insane now.
It seemed like it took an eternity for me to convince her to go console the children. As she entered their bedroom I flew downstairs and out the front door! While backing the car out she came running around the corner and stood in front of the car. She even tried to get on top of the car but I kept putting it in reverse. It took three or four attempts of trying to go around her as she simultaneously threw herself in front of the car before an escape was made without hitting her.
Scary stuff. Very scary. Can anyone say adrenaline rush? Adrenaline rush.
Driving to my wife's house(not divorced yet) I decided to turn on the radio in hopes I might stop shaking. Classic rock to the rescue! At some point the song, Bad Company by Foreigner came on!!! OMG, bad company till the day I die!
Folks, I left her apartment in fear for my life that night.
When I called later to check on her she sluggishly told me she was dying. She had taken a full bottle of medicine.
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