I’m on my third marriage. Because of previous issues with hypersexuality, mania, and very poor impulse control, I’ve had a lot of bad outcomes in the love department.
If I was the sole data point, it would be easy to conclude that bipolar disorder leads to divorce. And, unfortunately, the actual data shows that my experience is not uncommon. Many marriages involving a spouse with bipolar disorder may end in divorce.
However, not all will. According to a review published in the Industrial Psychiatry Journal, even though some research has alluded to people with bipolar having higher rates of divorce, more research is needed, especially larger-scale studies. The researchers also state that there is a need for studies that investigate marital satisfaction and functioning, as well as sexual satisfaction, among those with bipolar disorder and their partners.
To people like me, the answer to the question — Does bipolar in a marriage always lead to divorce? — may, ultimately, be “Yes.” However, I feel that society takes too broad of a stroke when concluding that bipolar disorder leads to divorce. I’ll use my life to explain.
I met my first wife in high school. I was 18 years old when I first laid eyes on her, while she was dating my friend. After their relationship ended, she pursued me.
We were married two weeks after she graduated high school. We ran off to another state and were married on a beach. It was romantic, against our parents’ advice, and very dramatic. Exactly the kind of impulsive behavior expected from young love.
Statistically back then, we had more than a 50 percent chance of divorcing based on our young ages. In other words, the majority of high school sweethearts don’t make it.
Because I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder soon after the end of our marriage, the blame easily shifted from “young love has an uphill battle” to “blame the guy with bipolar disorder.”
Make no mistake, I’m not saying that me having untreated bipolar didn’t contribute to our divorce. I know that life with me was awful. I wouldn’t want to be married to the person I was when I was married to Wife No. 1.
But was it the sole contributor? “In sickness and in health” was in our vows — and I was certainly unwell. She was as ignorant as I was to the symptoms of bipolar, so she never got me help. Had one of us known, and had I received treatment, perhaps we’d still be married today.
We were young, we didn’t understand mental health conditions, and I was untreated. All of that contributed to the end of our marriage. But not all of that is often discussed. What is discussed is that I had bipolar and the marriage ended.
I met my second wife while manic. I don’t believe either one of us was in the proper place to lay the groundwork for a solid relationship, but I absolutely wasn’t.
Early on, the woman who became my second wife saw that I was suicidal and took me to the emergency room. I was admitted to the psychiatric ward and, during my stay in the hospital, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Over the next four years, she was my champion and my caregiver. During that time, we got married.
There is a name for what we were experiencing: the Florence Nightingale effect. This is when caregivers fall in love with their “patients.” From my vantage point, I was so relieved to be receiving help and care that I mistook those feelings for romantic love. Specifically, the kind of love that leads to a successful life together.
During the early years of our marriage, almost everything we did was in service to treating my bipolar disorder. After I got well, we realized we had different values, different life goals, and our marriage couldn’t recover from the power differential that had been created by my being the “patient” and her being the caregiver.
Was that the fault of my bipolar? Or was our divorce the fault of getting married under such strenuous circumstances? How many marriages survive when entered into under such circumstances?
But, given that I have bipolar disorder, none of those questions were asked. The narrative simply became, “They divorced because Gabe has bipolar disorder.”
The difference between my previous two marriages and this one has everything to do with how the relationship began. I entered into this marriage as a mentally stable and mature adult. My wife and I are equals, it was deliberate, and I hold myself to the identical standard I hold her. We are both accountable for our own actions — and for each other.
Marriages that succeed are ones based on mutual respect and understanding. I don’t get a pass because I have bipolar disorder. If I do something wrong — even if it was related to a symptom — I apologize and make amends.
So often, I hear people say, “But it wasn’t my fault, it was my illness.” I can certainly relate to this line of thinking, but those people have forgotten something very important: It wasn’t the other person’s fault, either.
Taking responsibility for bipolar disorder, and therefore my life, is what has allowed me to move forward in a positive fashion.
Unfortunately, if this marriage ends, no matter the reasons, the narrative will quickly focus on the fact that I have bipolar — and nothing else.
Using my first two marriages as an example, I can tell you in absolute certainty, bipolar disorder was a factor, but it was far from the only one. There is a solid argument to be made that, at least for my second marriage, it wasn’t even the primary factor.
It’s hard to sustain a marriage when the partners have different values and life goals — and that isn’t because I’m living with bipolar. It’s because I chose the wrong spouse.
UPDATED: Originally posted May 31, 2018
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