What is marriage?

I have BPD, BP, GAD. I am on my 3rd marriage.

1st marriage: after being stalked 21 months, I met a friend and lost a job, and got marriage because in the weakened state of having been stalked, I needed some support. On a Monday night, after begging me to marry him for 3 months - I said yes. Not because I loved him, I knew I didn't. But because it was Vegas, and if I didn't do something - he would want to watch the Simpsons that night, and I frigging hated the Simpsons. 10 years. I stayed 10 years because it was marriage. Never liked the guy. Tried hard to be perfect. He was very demanding. He liked me moldable, he didn't like me becoming my own person.

2nd marriage: less then 1 year after my 1st marriage broke up, my best friend had terminal cancer. She was also my Sensei. I was nuts, my mental illnesses really reeking havoc, and I wasn't treating them. I lived with my Sensei/friend and rented out my place. I told her when she died, I couldn't live there anymore because it would be innapropraite, and she was angry and said that would be when her family would need her the most. I married her husband like 5 months after she died in some warped attempt to do some noble thing.

3rd marriage: I really love this guy. First time I have been married to someone I chose. He loves me. We have been together 9 years. I am 24 years older then he is. He never cares about my age. It is a non-issue, even though statistically it doesn't look good.

Here is the thing: we don't have sex - I think he is Asexual. So, not having sex is fine. I am past menopause so even though I still sometimes have desires, not having sex is fine.

He doesn't want children because the world is overpopulated. he prefers dogs, so that isn't an issue for his future.

I own a house, that I gave him half of last year, to protect him. I have been trying to get him to go to college, or somehow prepare himself for when I die, but he doesn't.

So, here we are, with our dogs, and no car, living in this little house - he lives upstairs, and I live downstairs.

it is kind of like roommates.

I like taking care of the house, and I cook and clean, because that is what I was raised a wife does.

He does the lawn in the summer. And he shovels sometimes. But basically, I am wondering if this is all.

I mean, I am happy - but I kind of want some invisible more. I would like to think that we are aimed at something, instead of just gaming and computers and living off my social security check.

I mean. I do love him. And, he loves me. And - we get along, but it is starting to feel like it isn't even marriage.

My ex (2nd husband) called me a week ago and basically invited me to join him in a retirement I would like. A motor home, travel.

The only problem is, I don't love him. He describes the dream, but he is the leading man.

We did get along well. But, I don't want to even think about having sex with him. But, living again.... living some life of more then just sitting here on a couch with a husband upstairs that I talk to a few times a day.

What is this?

Am I even married?

With my issues, I do like a lot of alone time.

But, I am married to someone who has garbage on the floor of his room. He is stuck in some place. He really needs to be challenged.

But who am I to say that. Maybe, - maybe things don't have a definition.

We work.

If my ex hadn't called me, I wouldn't be thinking about him.

I wish this husband had a little more giddy up.

I am way (yes at 24 years older then him - way) more energetic then my husband. I like to make thoughts and plans, and goals. But on my disibility check, none of these things can come true.

I wrap my world around making him every pleasure I can from my life. And I don't feel it is reciprocated. I enjoy thinking of ways to please him, and he enjoys being pleased.

I do feel loved. And I feel loving toward him. I feel like we work. But, I don't know what to call us.

Am I a fool?

It is the Super Bowl this weekend. I miss what my ex and I did on Super Bowl weekend. I do miss him at times. I even miss my first husband when something needs fixing. Both my first 2 husbands were old fashioned men who found projects. My current husband - well, doesn't find things to do. He did teach himself computer programming, and he makes music and games.

Am I married? Or ..... did I somehow surround my life with my children, and find a permanent replacement for them? Am I living a life of a perpetual Mom with no husband? Is that, for me, what I wanted?

It would be nice to be married to my ex again. For some things. Like, just having a man to count on for being the one with the final say.

Maybe I am just being bored, BPD, and wanting some excitement.

I don't want to make a mistake, and have more lost years I regret.

It sounds like you're "settling". I guess technically you are married, but you have dreams and desires that aren't yet fulfilled. Do you dare pursue your dreams? Without knowing more about your age (assuming north of 50 (as am I)), developmentally, you have fewer years ahead than behind. The clock is ticking and you may be considering things you would like to do. Would you be willing to do them alone or with a friend?
Can you, as they say, create a life for yourself that is worth living?

Later the same evening, after writing this, my husband came downstairs. I said to him," Are we doing some strange acting out of the mother and son relationship?" He said, "When you put it like that....", and grinned and sat down for a chat. We talked about what marriage is to us. What we are doing. If we like each other. It was the same as usual - a relaxed, smiling conversation where we both acknowledged feeling that invisible, but undeniable wisp of loving that moves in between us, and surrounds us. We work. Plain and Simple. For us, we work.

Perhaps it is the dynamic of 2 very wounded, messed up souls that found the perfect balm.

My husband had been terribly abused growing up. Think handcuffed to a basement pole for 3 days abused. He had even lived on the streets for awhile. When we met on the internet, he had gotten his own place, and had a job paying nearly double the minimum wage of the time. But he threw chance to the wind and moved 5 states away from everything he had known all his life, to take a chance on this relationship.

At first, it looked like everything would be fine. We both worked, until I got a 2nd promotion on a different shift, and we decided he should stay home.

Soon, the stress began to activate my untreated illnesses. I started to display more and more inappropriate emotions, until finally I was let go. This started a chain of events that led to a credit rating in the 300's, a repossessed car, and nearly losing my home. It has been an uphill battle.

When I cried to him that I thought I would lose the house, he said, "then we will live on the streets". For 5 years, I couldn't go anywhere alone. If I wasn't with my case care aid, my husband would be with me. The year I had agoraphobia, my husband rode a bicycle into town to get groceries. It's a 5 mile trip both ways. When I am too long in the bath, he comes and checks on me. Even if I am outside too long, he comes out to see that I am well. He says, "I am looking forward to changing your diapers when you get old and senile". I tell him to please remember to pluck my chin hairs too. He says smiling, "Only if you're good".

He was firmly against me giving him half the house. "That is not why I am here! How many times do I have to tell you, I am not here for the money!"

The other day I woke up from one of my med induced naps, to find my eyelashes dry and flaky. I put some oil around my eyes, and went upstairs to say something to him. He glanced up from what he was doing, and, looking alarmed, immediately asked me if I was okay, I looked like I had been crying due to the shine. If I had been, he would have stopped anything he was doing to help me through that rough patch. In December, when I barricaded us in the house and booby trapped the doors because I thought I had uncovered a fb code a criminal gang used to communicate - and they were clearly coming to kill me - he rode the storm out.

I did have him go to counseling the first 2 years we were together, but he didn't like participating in that, and mostly jerked her chain.

He has issues. But, since we have been together, the volcanic temper has become slow burning coals, only warmed by stirring. Last year we only had 2 arguments. He stopped drinking by the end of year 3. He has never hit me, and doesn't insult my feelings or my brain. If he does anything I don't like, I say something. Same for him. We are both able to be honest.

Maybe sometimes counseling cannot help people get over wounds as much as time. Perhaps, in some way, we are a loving older woman offering kindness and support to a younger man. And, a younger man giving an older woman a sense of being needed, in a world that doesn't need her. But we are also equals with respect for each other.

We both are committed to that.

Maybe, for people like us, marriage isn't as much creating and fulfilling dreams together - as it is, having someone who will help create a safe environment for us both. So we have very few triggers going off. So, we have the private space we need when the emotions are in upheaval, to sort through them without ridicule, accusations or interference. Perhaps, instead of living out a fantasy idea of what marriage is supposed to be, based on society's template, the two people must create their own unique situation. There is no set location for the bowls to be. Just because I always kept my bowls on the 1st shelf doesn't mean he was wrong to put them on the 2nd. Eventually, I learned things like that don't have a right or wrong. What's the big deal? So now, the bowls are on the 2nd shelf, and we use 2 tubes of toothpaste, as per my desire. We found what works.

My life prior to him was a crazy and unpredictable series of impulsive choices, never attained goals, and painful mistakes. Looking back on my road, I see terrible twists, turns, broken things abandoned along the way - until the road meets this man. It slowly begins straightening out. I can make sense of it.

Maybe the me that had gold and pink sparkly dreams in the air was the same me, that crashed and burned coming down. Over and over again.

Now, this small life has consistency.

And perhaps someday, he will be healthy enough to want to have more.

But, the same way he put up with my emotional outbursts and set backs, maybe he still needs more time. Just because he doesn't display his emotions in some dramatic display, doesn't mean he isn't still processing internal changes. He did just within the past year, begin talking to other humans beyond just typing. He interacts with a team of people, and is finally developing his first friendship outside of me. That is very healthy.



I feel better. It is understandable that a call - offering me a more adventurous life - would appeal to the old impulsive me. I have lived all over, and been pretty adventurous.

But learning to dive down to the still deep water, instead of staying tossed about on the surface takes choices and sacrifice. But, what I will gain from it will undoubtedly be better for my untamed inner core.

I needed to get this out. Thank you, I feel better. <3 Peace