Navigating a Weekend with Bipolar Challenges

A Weekend With Bipolar Chaos

It was a stressful weekend.

If you read my previous post, you know Blend had called a “family meeting” the night before. At the end of it he made a statement that stuck with me: “Let’s see how things change.”

Things did change. Just not in a good way.

The next day, his bipolar behavior escalated dramatically.

The children had Eucharistic Minister duty at their school from noon until 4 p.m. I woke early that morning and finished a movie I had started the night before. In between scenes, I moved in and out of the kitchen, making breakfast for the kids and ironing their clothes before they left.

Blend had already gone out and did not return until after 10:30 that morning. When he walked in, he asked what was going on in the house.

I reminded him that the kids had a church duty at school that day.

He apologized and said he had forgotten. But the tone suggested something else—almost as if he were trying to imply this was yet another activity he had somehow been excluded from. When that angle didn’t work, the mood shifted.

The attitude arrived.

Living with someone who is sex-addicted, bipolar, and paranoid can feel like living with a volatile child. Once the tone changes, you know the rest of the day may follow.

That morning, I could already sense the tension building.

When the House Became Unsettling

After the children left for their school duty, I sat down again to finish the movie.

Almost immediately, Blend came downstairs.

He began moving around the house in a restless, hyper way—opening cabinets, clattering dishes, and making unnecessary noise. It felt deliberate, as though the goal was simply to interrupt the quiet.

He often talked out loud to himself in a low mumbling voice. It was unsettling to listen to, sometimes even frightening.

In the kitchen, he began banging around pots and pans behind me. I turned the television volume up and tried to ignore it so I could finish the program.

Meanwhile, he bounced from room to room—on the computer, singing loudly, whistling, and pacing the house.

Singing might not sound strange on its own, but this wasn’t joyful singing. It was loud, erratic, and completely off-key. The whistling was even stranger—sharp bursts of noise with no rhythm or tune.

At one point, he walked into the living room and tried to start an argument. I wasn’t willing to engage and simply waved him away.

He didn’t take that well.

He called me a few names and told me that “alienating him from the kids” would come back to haunt me and that I would go to hell. That was the spiritual side of him talking.

After that, the hyperactivity escalated. The loud whistling and pacing continued.

I suspected he had been drinking. He sometimes bought cheap alcohol and kept it in his room, supposedly to “drown his sorrows,” though it always felt more like self-pity.

Something was clearly going on because he seemed completely unable to be still.

Choosing Safety Over Confrontation

At one point, he offered to wash the laundry if I separated the clothes.

I needed to get back to my bookkeeping work for tax returns, so I appreciated the offer.

I went into my room to take a shower and get dressed. But as his behavior continued to escalate, I began to feel uneasy.

Eventually, I locked my bedroom door and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon.

I had originally planned to visit a cousin that day, but the plans were canceled. Given the atmosphere in the house, isolating myself felt like the safest choice.

Sometimes, avoiding confrontation is simply the most peaceful option available.

I stayed in my room from around noon until about 4:30, coming out only briefly to grab something to eat. Even lunch became strange—I made a plate and carried it back to my room just to avoid being downstairs.

Meanwhile, the house echoed with loud television, singing, and that sharp, irregular whistling.

At one point, I realized I had turned my own television volume up just so I could think over the noise.

It was a ridiculous way to live.

When the Children Came Home

The children returned home around 4:30 that afternoon.

Almost immediately, they came into my room and climbed onto the bed with me. We spent the evening watching movies, laughing, talking, and simply enjoying one another’s company.

It felt as though they instinctively knew I had endured a difficult day.

For a while, the house felt calm again.

I took a break to make dinner, and Blend continued moving between his room and the laundry area. The children noticed the strange whistling coming from downstairs and even commented on how odd it sounded.

That was the only thing said about it.

The moment the kids arrived home, Blend had gone upstairs and locked himself in his room. You could hear the lock click.

Ironically, during his “family meeting” the night before, the children had complained about this exact behavior—his habit of isolating himself in his room.

Now he seemed to be exaggerating it.

It felt almost like a childish response: “You think I lock myself away? I’ll show you what locking myself away really looks like.”

Dinner Without Him

When dinner was ready, I knocked on his door to let him know.

He didn’t come down.

Eventually, the children and I sat at the table together. We talked and laughed for quite a while.

He came into the kitchen three separate times but never sat down with us.

The first time he told me not to make him a plate—he would do it himself.

He never did.

We stayed at the table, enjoying the quiet moment together.

Eventually, I left the food on the stove. Later, he came down and ate alone.

After a period of time, the children and I returned to my room, where we spent the rest of the evening watching television, working on our laptops, laughing, and simply being together.

A Small Comfort

That night, as I fell asleep, one thought gave me comfort.

The children had instincts.

They sensed things adults sometimes pretend not to see. And that intuition—especially in an unpredictable household—is a powerful thing.

I realized then that their ability to read the room, to feel when something wasn’t right, might one day help protect them.

And that, at least, was something good.

---

Reflections: Looking Back

Looking back now, a few things about that day stand out clearly:

• Sudden mood shifts often set the emotional tone for the entire household.
• When behavior becomes chaotic or unpredictable, creating distance can sometimes be the safest response.
• Children often sense tension and instability long before adults acknowledge it.