I never imagined myself being able to do a split. It was just one of those things that people had the ability to do. Good for them. I did not have this ability. Good for me. There are more actions in life anyway, and probably less painful.
There’s no way around the obvious: splitting hurts. Imagine being bent far, to the brink, where another motion would seem to snap the whole structure. It is this tension, this ever increasing tension, that culminates in the final breakage for the unlucky, for those who have tested themselves too far and are suddenly unable to return to form.
It is a terrible and frightening thing to not be able to return to form.
I never imagined myself being able to do a split, but I have learned that I am a rather natural at it. People are often in awe of what I can pull off in this department, and I don’t blame them. When you don’t have this ability predicted on your life bingo card, learning that you have such a superpower is a baffling surprise.
To be clear: You don’t think that I mean the kinds of splits done by gymnasts and cheerleaders, do you? I couldn’t be forced to such a posture at gunpoint. I just don’t have it in me, and no amount of stretching or yoga is going to fix me. I am still a reasonably articulated action figure, in any case, and for that I am grateful.
What I refer to here is the borderline split.
Borderline splitting is one of the most common manifestations of the disorder. It occurs when the borderline feels trapped or threatened; in what often feels like a micro-instant, the borderline enters the process of devaluation, where all thoughts about the offending stimuli turn negative. In this not so magical land of black and white thinking, the borderline considers the threat as an absolute threat, not as being nuanced, complicated, and mixed with good and bad qualities.
This makes sense on the surface. The easiest way to convince yourself that person X has nothing good about their character is to clam up, split, block, shun, and avoid. The avoidance is often in perpetuity, which creates its own stack of emotional baggage.
Why do people split? That is a little more complicated. I have split from therapists whom I thought gave me an unfair assessment of myself. I have split from friends over matters large and small that, at some point or another, became heated. I have split from people who have thought it fitting to tell ME what I ought to be writing about on MY blog. I have split from people when I perceive that they have abandoned me or are about to do so.
This action, which is often rash and rarely the product of clear, reasoned thinking, is a line of psychological defense. The cycle works this way, usually: there is often a valuation cycle, or a period in which the borderline holds someone or something in incredibly high esteem. There is often much praise during this period, which is also known as the idealization phase. From this point everything proceeds ok, and can proceed this way for a very long time.
Until the “OK” processions suddenly stop.
They stop when the borderline senses the danger and acts quickly and neatly. The only kind of thinking here is black and white thinking. Why black and white? Nuance takes time and is more likely to generate pauses and empathy. Something that is painted black, without virtue or redemptive potential, can be easily and harshly discarded.
This is the irony: in an attempt to avoid the pain of hurt and isolation, borderlines in the act of splitting literally ratify their own isolation; some outbursts can be so cold and cruel that reconciliation feels impossible.
And in many cases, it probably is.
I have gone distances with others to the point of no return, where things as they are suddenly and irrevocably change. When the borderline senses this in the emotional climate, the splitting begins. Bring in the social media blocks. Delete contact information. Remove, when possible, all tokens of the friendship.
What does that mean in real life? If someone I split on gives me a gift in real life, I split on the whole person and the whole of the experiences. As such, items that once brought joy now have an unimaginable stench, the very aroma of decay. If I split on you, I split on your gifts as well, and they most certainly end up in the trash.
Splitting on someone doesn’t exactly make me fond of the remembrances, so the remembrances must go. I suspect this is true for many borderlines. Being in cluster B of DSM recognized personality disorders means this = borderlines are DRAMATIC, and they generally decline on doing things that will go unnoticed.
Notice us notice us notice us! PLEASE.
As part of the drama? Splitting for me must be complete. Full. Final. Total erasure. Cross me enough and I will behave as if I never knew you. The deep loyalty of the borderline can easily, and seemingly without warning, deploy all of its efforts in the reverse.
Sometimes the phrase, “I never want to hear from you again” is delicious to say, and I salivate as I type it.
But there’s a cost to the mouth watering. Underneath the cloak of victimhood, which is often very real, I find it easy to justify quick and harsh terminations of relationships. I defend myself at the expense of myself, clawing for social interaction but cutting it off and inquiring as to the whereabouts of everyone.
This is all shameful, painful, and embarrassing to admit and discuss, but these are the realities of BPD, where relationships are as old and volatile sticks of dynamite.
Ready to go BOOM, and without warning.
Yours Mentally,
Nathan
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