Jeff Riggenbach - Borderline Personality Disorder Toolbox: A Practical Evidence-Based Guide to Regulating Intense Emotions

Liz, an attractive, articulate 26-year-old asked me as she sat down in my office one day. What do you mean? I replied, knowing exactly where she was headed but awaiting the details anyway. She continued, Last week, my friend Lindsay introduced me to a man named Eric. In the beginning, I was not attracted to him at all. After all, he was 20 years older than me, but the more time I spent with him that first evening, I increasingly felt like Id known him my whole life.

Our first date went so well that I called him back the next day and invited him over to cook dinner for him that night. I made us my variation of taco salad. The food proved delicious, and the meal was wonderful, in part because we shared fun, intellectually provocative conversation. We had a minor food fight and even took turns feeding each other. Dinner was playtime, as if we were children. Afterwards, I carried away our dishes and proceeded to wash them, cleaning up our food fight mess in between sinks full, subsequently returning to watch our first movie of the night, Stars Wars.

Sounds like a fun evening, I said.

Wait, it got even better, she continued.

As we watched the movie, Eric narrated in his radio voice persona, reliving his days as a disc jockey. I relished it. He had that quick wit that I fall for every time.

It did get better. It sounds like you were having fun, I added.

Until it got worse, she replied.

He started out hilarious, but suddenly, he chose a dramatic, vulgar tone that made me uncomfortable and triggered my consciousness to quickly change. As I momentarily withdrew, he grew angrier and angrier so that he was enraged by the time my awareness returned. It happened so quickly, that I didnt even realize what had happened. In order to calm him down, I quickly initiated the one thing I knew would calm him: sex. Impulsive, guilt-laden, self-denigrating sex. Its always been my number one go-to to pacify guys.

When it was over, he was crying over me, sobbing, begging me not to leave him, lavishing promises of change, excessive apologies and desperate pleas of me to forgive him and not leave him alone again as previous women had done. He felt bad for guilting me, and I felt responsible for the entire nights difficulties. He was afraid, and I, I was a self-loathing disaster. I followed his lead and apologized profusely as well. Afterwards, we hugged, made up, and decided to take a walk.

As we walked in the crisp, fall night air, the tension now broken, the joking resumed. We walked briskly for about two hours, gaily bantering between ourselves, although I thought he enjoyed our time far more than I. The blaming, critical thoughts constantly running in the back of my mind prevented me from enjoying the fullness of our conversation and relaxing walk. As our time together concluded for the night, those same thoughts waged a war inside my mind. Liz paused a moment to breathe and steady herself for the remainder of her confession.