Am I the Abuser? VERY long

Note : I have BPD and an anxiety disorder.

Many moons ago, I left my alcoholic husband and took my 8 month old son. After a year, I had a whirlwind relationship with a nice guy who had recently left his abusive wife. We dated for a few months, got pregnant, and moved out of the country. In the beginning, misery loved company and we commiserated about our terrible ex's. Then we moved on to being pregnant and very sick, moving countries, having a child with life threatening illnesses, another baby, more life threatening illnesses. One of our downfalls is that we never had anything more in common than similar stories, religion, and then our children.

Several years into the relationship, I realized I was alone. Totally alone. No friends, no family, living in a different country from everyone I knew. I was overweight, depressed, and completely dependent on him for everything. I made an effort to go out more, to find like minded people, to grow as a person. I pulled myself out of isolation, lost 50 pounds, and started to enjoy my life... And things started to change.

At first, it was his constant need to connect. If I went out, I had to promise sex upon return. There were dozens of texts - Where are you? Who are you with? What did you order at dinner? How much were the groceries? When will you be home? How was your day? What are you doing? Who did you talk to today? I stopped going out.

Then he would go through my iPad. While I was at the gym one night, he went through everything - my pictures, my browser history, my facebook, my texts. He read every conversation I had with my friends, going back two and three years. He took particular exception to the conversations with my (male) best friend, despite their platonic nature. I only found out when he referenced it one day. I told him that if I ever found out he was doing that again, I would leave. He demanded that I break off this friendship. I refused. He started picking fights with any friends I had, and eventually, I pushed my friends away except one.

Then I discovered that he was hiding money. Every month, he would withdraw hundreds of dollars, thousands sometimes, and hide it. He'd put it back into the chequing account just before the bills were due, and withdraw anything left over. I went years thinking that we were struggling, and it turned out we had four months of security in a savings account where I didn't have access. When I confronted him, he deleted the accounts " by accident" and opened a new one in just his name. He worked at a bank, I don't know how this sort of accident occurs.. I wasn't ever able to see if the number added up, or if money had gone "missing".

He slowly stopped helping out. I was managing a full time home based daycare, three kids, and he wouldn't ever help with housework, or laundry, or dishes. He'd go into the basement to watch TV, or out to play cards with the guys until 3am. We'd argue for hours, long into the night and early into the morning. I'd beg for more help around the house, tell him I felt under appreciated, over worked, and that I needed something. Some little gestures of affection beyond the obligatory 5x a week sex. He always swore that he was trying, he just didn't know what to do, he didn't know he was hurting my feelings by being disengaged. We always said the same things, he always made the same promises. We repeated this for three or four or more years, every few weeks.

It got worse. I'm not an angel. I made mistakes. I was desperate for someone to show they cared, and I turned to my ( male ) best friend. There were some racy conversations, a few pictures. I confided in him that I was unhappy, he gave me suggestions. The racy conversations never included plans to see each other - we hadn't seen each other in more than a decade, and lived on two very different continents. I thought I had deleted them all, but one day, my ex found them. I told my ex I wanted a divorce. He told me I was just under stress, suggested I get a new job. I agreed and began to work outside of the house.

He was constantly suspicious of my coworkers and friends. One night, I was watching a movie at my friends house and didn't answer his texts fast enough. His last text read " I took a handful of sleeping pills. Maybe you should come home now". He had been home with our three children. ( The sleeping pills were benadryl, and a handful was only four. )

I told my ex I wanted to leave. He threw a fit, telling me how hurt he was that I wasn't willing to try, how he could be better, how he couldn't live without me and how he'd never be happy again. He would argue with me until two or three in the morning, until I was too tired to argue any more, and willing to agree to anything. Two weeks into this, he was diagnosed with a major medical crisis. He refused to take his medication until I promised that I would never leave. He told me it was the stress of what I had done to him, done to us, that had caused his medical issues. He said the only way I could ever leave is if I cheated on him.

So I did. I felt that I had been pushed so far, so hard, so long that I just didn't care. If that was the only way he would ever let me leave... fine. I'd do it. It didn't help though. I didn't feel like I had accomplished anything. We went into counselling. I poured out my feelings, and he told me I was a terrible human being. That I had destroyed him. What would our community think? How could I ruin the kids lives? What would people think of me? This would kill his aged parents. He told me I wasn't capable of being on my own, that I was lucky he loved me enough to move past this. Why couldn't I love him and understand that he was willing to try, if only i was willing? Why did I hate him so much? Why couldn't I try? He told me I was abusive, that my infidelity was abusive. That walking away from arguing was abusive. I cried. I cried and I cried and I vowed that I wouldn't ever be the abuser again.

I tried. I tried so hard. The harder I tried, the less he did. We had sex every night. I kept the house spotless. I stopped talking to ALL of my friends, left facebook. I stopped going out cycling unless he could come with me. I stopped going to the gym. I answered all of his texts with lightening speed. But it never got better. I started having panic attacks before we'd have sex, before I would go to bed. Whenever he was around, I would shake, and snap at the kids. My job started to suffer. I was so angry. I was anxious and lonely and isolated. And he loved it. He told me how this is all I needed to do to make him happy.I was succeeding at making him happy now, he could tell I was trying. I told him I wasn't coping well, and one night I went to the ER. He called ahead and a doctor friend of his prescribed some anti anxiety meds. I went to private counselling, but quit after a few months. He'd ask me dozens of questions after every session, and I found it too stressful to continue.

One day I was driving to work and I heard his words in my head. You have a great life insurance policy. The kids would be taken care of for life if you died. Your life insurance policy is worth more than all the money you'll make for the rest of your life. And I realized I was considering it. I couldn't ever leave, I wasn't ever going to be happy. What did it matter if I drove off the bridge on the way to work?

I called my ( male ) best friend. I told him everything. Told him I was scared that I was becoming suicidal. He made me a facebook account so I could reconnect with my friends and family. Two weeks later, he flew in to see me while I was " on a solo vacation". We sat on the balcony at the hotel and talked. My friend told me I was suffering from PTSD. That I was being gaslighted, and manipulated. My friend held me while I cried. He told me I needed to tell my parents, tell my friends, see a counsellor. Eventually, there was sex for comfort. At the end of the vacation, I thanked my friend and he went back to his life. I went home and told my ex that I was leaving. I started looking for an apartment, started researching how I could leave, what my legal obligations were. Within a week of my being home, the ex convinced the kids to unlock my ipad and found I'd cheated on him again. Every night until I moved out, we argued until three or four in the morning. One night, he attempted to lock me in the bedroom with him until we could " come to a conclusion". I threatened to call the police.

Things didn't get better when I left. I live in a small, fourth story apartment across from the school with furniture donated from my friends - I wasn't allowed to take anything from his home when I left, and none of my friends could help me move. I was forced to pay movers. When it came time to split the bank account, half of it mysteriously disappeared as " bills ". I do all of the grocery shopping for both apartments, or he'll feed them nothing but McDonalds and Pizza hut when they are with him. I take the kids more than 60% of the time, pay 100% of their religious school costs, despite that he makes more than double what I make. I take them for their hair cuts, school clothes, school supplies. I buy their birthday presents, take them to their sports events.

We argue whenever we are together. His house has never been cleaned since I left. The kids feel like he doesn't want them, because he is always asking to leave them here while he goes off to party, and hockey games, and traveling with his friends. When I tried to explain that to him, he told me I was manipulating them into hating him, even though I was trying to help him reconnect with them.

It's gotten to the point where he begs me to come back, and I have to refuse to talk to him. I've asked him to stop emailing me at work, then had to threaten to have him blocked from my work email after he sends dozens of emails to me every day. I've started to respond to his texts with " Please stop trying to bate me into continuing these conversations. " He forgets conversations we have about the kids as soon as we have them, and then I need to tell him over and over and over, forcing me to continue to talk to him ( like who is getting what present for christmas, what comes from santa - even though it's been discussed, and then emailed to confirm ).

I've told him that I'm not doing the grocery shopping any more, I'm not " picking something up on my way over ", I'm not taking care of the house while he's away, like shovelling his driveway or doing his dishes or his laundry. The less I engage, the more he texts me with " please, I can be a good husband, why aren't you willing to let me try"?

Tonight, he told me that I am an abuser. That my not responding, my silence, is abuse. That I have abandoned him, and neglected him, and that is abuse. I am destroyed. I did not want to be the abuser. I've made mistakes, but I don't see, I can't fathom how to get away from this without simply refusing to be a part of it. How I have missed that I am the abuser? How do I stop this?