Posted August 19, 2012

There we are, as I said, I have been married to a bipolar man for the past 15 years. For nearly half of that time, we were separated, on and off. I suspected that he was bipolar for a long time, but he refused to listen to me, instead he blamed all our problems on me, which is what led me to leave every time. It felt as though I was responsible for his unhappiness, and that if I left, he would become himself again. I never stopped loving him, I just loved him enough to leave him if I was the cause of all this unhappiness.

Then, 4 years ago, he was diagnosed with BP, and although we were in the middle of heated divorce procedures, we both seemed to want to put things on hold. After we got back together again, things went fairly well, but slowly but surely, bipolar started to take over our lives again. I had to witness him breaking valuable and sentimental items in the house. I am a devout Christian, and if he really wants to hurt me, he swears at God whenever he has lost a key or something else he is looking for. After that he calls out to Satan for assistance, at which point I feel on the brink of insanity.

My eldest son went to the hairdresser the other day, and she advised him to stop stressing, as he has stress spots over his head. He has reason to stress. He is going to studu next year, and he is worried about where we will find the money for all of this, he needs a car to get there. Promises to buy him a car flow from my husband’s mouth, but my son has listened to enough broken promises in his lifetime to know to take this one with a pinch of salt.

The only time my husband seemed to be happy, was when I was taking care of the rent, utilities, school fees, groceries. All the things we needed to survive from day to day. During that period of our lives there was a lot of laughter and joy in the house, while he went out spending money on luxurious items we were not really able to afford, all because he has illusions of grandeur, and an intensive need for people to think that we are rich, which we are not, a far cry from it. His cupboard is filled with brand new outfits and expensive shoes, I have one pair of shoes for the winter, and one for summer, cheap shoes that hurt my feet, but that is still better than not having shoes at all.

I have found one astonishing, and strangely ironic way of handling him these days. I utter instructions in a strict, no nonsense way, tell what he needs to do and when, and for some reason, when I do that, he actually listens, without any arguments or fights, just goes and does what I ask. Could this be the answer, or is it just another unpredictable phase in his life?