My Bipolar Marriage

And the day that changed everything

If someone had asked him, he would have told them he was a good husband and father. He did the best he knew how to do. After all, fathers are supposed to control their kids and husbands are supposed to keep order in the home. He would have said he was good at this, at keeping order and exerting control.

He had a simple system. If things didn’t go his way, he’d yell.

If someone disagreed with him, he’d yell.

This is how it was with his parents growing up, this is how it was done. He had to keep his family in line because they would often try to undermine him. Sometimes they would move his coat or his keys so he couldn’t find them. Or they would hide his wallet and throw away the receipts he was saving.

“I’m living with a bunch of idiots,” was a phrase he used often because his family was inconsiderate and they would make him crazy and he couldn’t take it. Yelling seemed to make everything better. It made his mind and body quiet. It made the people around him quiet. It was the only tool he had for the raging thoughts that circled his brain and drove him mad.

That’s what he would have said if anyone had asked. But no one did.

If someone asked her, she would have said it felt like being abused. He never raised a fist, but his words punched her in the gut, constantly. She lived in fear, her nerves zapping like live-wires of frantic energy with nowhere to ground. She tried to keep things in order, to leave his coat and wallet where he could find them, and to put his shirts in the proper drawer. But she understood it was always wrong. The whole thing was always wrong.

Sometimes she’d try to stick up for herself. She’d scream in his face, and for a fraction of a second, she wouldn’t feel so small. But then, she had to watch his body shake as if it couldn’t contain the roar inside him.

His boiling anger would rise from somewhere deep, and a tidal wave of fury would spew out in a thunderous rampage. When this happened, nothing was safe. He’d throw or break the nearest thing. Plates would smash onto the floor, doors would slam.

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