Surviving Being a Partner to a Bipolar

Living with a bipolar partner can be very traumatic. All conflicts tend to be extreme. Whatever you are doing is completely wrong. You don’t deserve any credit for anything. No matter what you have done so far is never enough.

Then after that comes the change. She is so sorry for what happened and what she has done. Then there is a slight chance that you can agree on something. This agreement she might keep or not. But the that is s good start.

Once this pattern has repeated itself enough often. One start to adapt and create strategies for handling it. Eventually however it gets you and you can give up talking about your needs since they are not acceptable if he/ she does not feel well or is frustrated for one reason or another. It can be a family quarrel with a mother or something at work. You will have to carry the burden of that by being the target of aggression and merciless criticism for something completely different like putting the children to bed too late or in the “wrong ” way.

Scream and Hatred for Breakfast

The scream woke me up

What the hell the voice said

You are so lazy the voice said

Now I go

Confused and tired

I opened my eyes

She hated me

And left me with the children

Watching bad cartoons on TV

Today I started

To contemplate

Suicide as an option

If I don’t get out of here

The grey cold place

That is my so cold home

It’s just that I don’t want to die here

No meaning what so ever

I want to die in the sun

Feeling redemption and hope

But life goes on without meaning

Or purpose

The environment here is slowly

Breaking me down

Piece by piece

Just the writing keeps me going

For a while

Nightmare

The restless night

Has started

Filled with

Screams and

Frustration

The nightmare and memories

Comes back to haunt us

As well as screaming kids

And frustrated spouses

Every night I return

Every day a relief

The Eternal Quest

So the eternal, nocturnal

Battle has started

Trying to make the baby sleep

Frustrated parents and siblings

Happy child talking her own

Language

Refusing to sleep for generations

The same problem, with different

Solutions for each and every one

Sunday Quagmire

Messy night, sleepless flight

With screaming children

Fighting, crying and soon

To be the confused morning

Trying to get the sleep lost in the terrible night

More noise, less choice

Trashed people they do trash you up

Eating the leftovers of your soul and self

Only by luck can anything be good eventually

But not eventually

Likely

Turns Gray

The world turns gray today

The bitter end of the year

No remorse just endorse

Accept it is all over now

A new bad world in the making

The rich and powerful are doing

The taking

Just plain power and stupidity

Will rule,

Money talks, life walks

Leaving the ashes of what could have been

Slowly killing us all

The money talks

While the children die

The restaurang serve

Champagne, to toast life away

The dictators roam

The ground like fat dinosaurs

Stealing and loathing our world

Only the stones will remember us

 

Evening

Friday a good day

For fraud and getting

Drunk after work

I did neither

Just listening to the wind

And the children playing

The State of Sweden

Like it is not easy to know

I opened my eyes

And realize that the man

That I used to know

Had killed himself

Half a year ago

He had a son

That played harmonica

At his funeral

All his friends and foes

Wrote how sorry

They were

And that his suicide

And that it had left a scar

I once met him in a bar

He told me how his life

Had turned sour

Losing control

And the right to see his son

Not even speak on the phone

Attachment is for fouls

They will easy take away

Their pray and your

Beloved whatever

I know that if I care

To much

My soul will be touched

When they take my children

Away

Sunday depression

That’s it a dark day in the beginning of December

The children had enough of us

Quarrel all the time

They run away

Twice

We found them

Far away on the way to their own adventures

Then the girl just run away

In the museum

So she wants to lean on me

But I am weak and most of all

Tired, and so ANGRY

She stole our life

Fulfilling her depressive patterns

Always being the victim

What’s the meaning of that

Well to repeat forever and ever

Blackened the life of us all

I ended up running away

Finally feeling normal

While the snow kept

Falling on my head