A strange kind of grief

Ya know what’s weird, it’s that feeling you get when you realize that you’ve somehow crossed over from being loved to not. It’s not the same as the fear of abandonment - that can be explained and even characterized. It’s not the fear of being lonely - that ties in well with abandonment and again can be explained and characterized. This distinct feeling is crossing over from “I can’t believe they love me, I make them happy and they make me feel the same.” - to “when did you start to hate me, how did we end up here?” It’s not the same as breaking down the woes of the relationship and pinning down the challenges. It’s this very clear affront to your reality that this person, who once cherished the ground you walk on, no longer wants to breathe the same air as you.

It’s like watching a car crash or even come careening toward you and as much as you can explain speed and movement you can’t express the feeling of the moment the car hits the wall or stops just inches in front of you. The line seems so sharp despite that it’s blurry. You can explain step by step what went wrong and how and why and when…but you cannot understand or explain the weight yet fragility of knowing that you are no longer loved. When relationships drag on it’s usually because one person believes in the hope that the love still exists or the hope that the fire can be rekindled. There is a sense of logic that exists that the fire cannot be maintained in torrential rain but the second you understand that the embers are gone - the immediate impact that you make with that reality is truly an instant death.

I don’t think I’m doing much justice to the imagery nor do I think I have the words to adequately describe this situation. It’s not slow and steady, it’s a halt. It’s like when Wile E. Coyote finally realizes he’s run off the edge of the cliff and he stands on that nothingness and allows himself to drop because he knows there’s nothing he can do. Figuratively, your heart drops, your hope drops and reality is waiting to greet you at the bottom…hard and fast and cold.

It’s truly not the same as fear of rejection or abandonment or loneliness. It’s a kind of loss. This loss isn’t exactly akin to losing a loved one, it’s more similar to realizing that call won’t be returned. It’s not the same as a divorce, it’s more like the moment you realize you have to ask for one. There’s an internal and immediate death.

It’s so annoying when I hear/see “the part of………that people don’t talk about enough.” It seems like such an exaggeration and really just means that people in your circle don’t talk about it…but I really don’t recall ever hearing anyone talk about this immediate death in realizing that love has left. When I hear it, it’s always this slow understanding and never the vengabus that sped out the corner and smacked you; never the Mac truck that hit you as you stepped off the curb. Yet that’s what it feels like.

And I wonder if this is unique to BPD because of the depth and intensity of emotion or if it’s a human experience (which still would inevitably be exacerbated by BPD-but you know what I mean).

Thoughts?