It's not because presents truly matter because honestly, they don't. It's that Christmas has become so damned materialistic that when my husband-y type person doesn't get me one, it makes me wonder. I wonder if I actually mean something to him or if I'm just a means to an end. Am I just here to be Mommy? I mean, this morning, after I gave him his gifts from me and the kids, he sat there with a look of shock on his face.
"Why did you get me presents?"
"...because it's Christmas."
"Well, if I had known I would have at least tried."
I guess to me, if he had cared about me, he would have at least tried.
I know this isn't realistic. I know this is materialistic. I know that truly, my family is alive, I have food and shelter and two beautiful boys and a girl. But I feel like the only one who wants to go above and beyond for me... is me.
I know that this is ridiculous and I know it's just a bunch of crazy. Of COURSE, a present doesn't mean his love for me. Sometimes it's hard to separate the internal monologue from reality. And this, this my friends, is why having BPD is so incredibly frustrating. You can't even enjoy one little holiday.
Merry Christmas, Yule, Holidays, etc. etc.
Rachel, BPD, Mama of Three, and also a Wifey
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