"Bipolar or Narcissism? Why Mania Can Look like Narcissism

Bipolar or Narcissism? Why Mania Can Look Like Narcissism

I’m going to talk today about something I ran into all the time: when your spouse becomes manic, are they narcissistic as well?

It’s frustrating because “narcissist” is a word people often use when they’re angry at their spouse. In my experience with my wife, and from what I’ve read, narcissism is a different issue. But when she was manic or hypomanic, her behavior could look a lot like narcissism.

Can you relate to feeling that your spouse is suddenly self-centered, thinking only about themselves and not seeming to care how their actions affect you? That certainly resonated with me.

Again, I’m no therapist or psychiatrist. I can only tell you about my experience during ten years with a wife who had bipolar I disorder. She could be incredibly kind, giving, and thoughtful. But when she became hypomanic or manic—oh my God. If you know what I’m talking about, it felt like the script flipped. She seemed self-centered and unconcerned about whether her actions hurt me.

The most difficult part for me came afterward. Once the episode ended, she either didn’t remember what happened, wouldn’t talk about it, or couldn’t connect with how it had felt to me. I was left asking, “What’s reality? What’s real?” For the longest time, I wondered if I was losing my mind.

During an episode, she could seem like the most selfish person I’d ever met. Then, a week later, she would be kind, bubbly, funny, confident, and empathetic again. How do you hold those two realities in your head without falling apart yourself? I fell apart. I went a little batshit crazy, because I couldn’t make logical sense of it.

What helped me understand it was recognizing that she had a mental illness. That’s easy to say and hard to accept.

My wife could be the sweetest, most empathetic woman, thinking of ways to make my life better. Then, during a hypomanic or manic episode, it could feel as though she couldn’t care less whether I fell off the face of the earth. That contrast drove me crazy.

I’ve heard people describe mania as feeling trapped behind glass: seeing how they’re treating the people they love, feeling horrified by it, and struggling to stop. That description stayed with me.

Some partners can handle these episodes better than I could. Some use a strategy called “gray rocking,” where they try not to react to hurtful words or behavior. I could manage that for a little while, but eventually I’d get angry and start yelling. I was a train wreck.

I stayed for ten years. I know the woman I loved would have wanted me to stay, but I think, underneath it all, she knew I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t keep living with the open flirting and the other things that hurt me.

In my opinion, the behavior I saw during her episodes didn’t define who she was all the time. She was a kind, warm, empathetic person living with a severe mental illness. I don’t believe she wanted to hurt me, but she did hurt me when she was manic. That was the reality I lived with.

If you have children together, I know leaving can be even more complicated. We didn’t have children together. I moved a long way away, and I don’t have to see her every day. I’m grateful for that distance, even though this is still emotional for me.

In our lives, changes and stress seemed to affect her stability. We moved quite a bit, and I now wish we hadn’t. At the time, I didn’t understand what those changes might mean for her. There are a lot of things I would have done differently if I’d known then what I know now.

I’m trying to get through this podcast without crying too much. What I want to say is that the person you love may still love you, even when their behavior during an episode is deeply hurtful. Understanding the illness helped me make sense of what happened, but it didn’t erase the hurt or mean I could stay.

Treatment and medication can be extremely helpful, but episodes can still happen. In our relationship, alcohol, drugs, pot, and gambling were part of the picture too. I took part in some of those things myself, without understanding how they might affect the situation. I don’t drink now. For one thing, I use a walker, and drinking while trying to get around with it seems like a pretty bad idea.

I wanted to share my experience in case it helps someone who is trying to make sense of the same painful contrast I lived through. It’s difficult. Hang in there.