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Bi-polar husband and his road-rage….
13 Feb 2008 by Rod Smith in Anger, Reactivity, Violence, Voice / 11 Comments
“My husband is bipolar and for almost all of our married life he has shown severe aggression whilst driving. The slightest irritation on the road would cause him to exhibit road rage. He would most often tailgate and show aggressive signs to other drivers. I have known him to get out of his vehicle to remonstrate with other motorists, without fear of his life or the safety of others, including my own or our young family. The slightest intake of breath on my part would make him angrier, and he would be even more reckless. I often felt as though a gun was being held to my head, except that the weapon was the motor vehicle. Other than not to travel with him for months on end, I felt trapped. I had thoughts of going to the Metro Police to report him, but feared repercussions. What steps I should have taken? Due to illness he no longer drives. Please Rod, what could I, or should I have done?”
This is a tough call. Bi-polar or not, no one has the right to endanger his family and others. Staying out of the car was a good thing to do! Readers, please, send your suggestions!
About the Author: Rod Smith
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Verbal log-jam
When I was a boy I’d endlessly practice the fluent delivery of my name but it seldom flowed easily from my lips. As if it was new news to me, adults pointed out my stutter. Perhaps they thought I was beginning, at that precise moment, for the first time in my life to spit from the mouth, twist at the neck, jig my head back and forth trying to expel some inane statement log-jammed between my gut and my throat.
Idiots – always adults, children were surprisingly patient, – would make me repeat sentences as if a repeat performance of the humiliating uncoordinated gesticulations, my arms and legs flying in all directions, would make for an easier delivery the second time. That I’d just spent every ounce of energy trying to cough it up was lost on them. That I was already thoroughly humiliated was something to which they were blind.“Practice, practice,” they’d say as if stutterers simply didn’t speak enough. “Think before you speak. Now – try that again,” they would declare slowly and loudly as if I was stupid and deaf. These thoughtless people were ignorant of just how much stutterers do think. Too much – which is central to the issue!
If I’d known at twelve or thirteen that the day would come when I’d make a career of public speaking I might have strolled off a high-rise building.
Now it is quite easy to hide. I am very comfortable with crowds.
It’s asking driving directions or ordering food at a drive through where it gets tricky. Sitting in a cozy circle waiting for my turn to introduce myself sends my blood-pressure through the roof. The ticket attendant on the London underground can render me dumb after I’ve just spent days addressing a room full of graduate level adults about Family Systems Theory. I know. It sounds ridiculous.
I was almost immobilized the first time I saw Thulani put himself “on duty” in the event he needed to be my mouthpiece. He did it. No one asked him or appointed him. He just did it.
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Life in our beloved 122
If the inside of a house (outside, too, I suppose) is a metaphor of the lives of the people who live in it – which is something I once read somewhere – gosh, are we in trouble. Our house is a mess.
I consistently clean it room by room, thinking often of the legend that the Golden Gate Bridge that says there’s some guy constantly painting it. I feel for him. While I am sure the view is wonderful I must believe that the poor guy whose doing it daily from one end to the other must find the wind and the weather quite a challenge.
Our house is the same, but instead of painting from end to end and back again, I am the guy constantly cleaning, – and, it’s hard to tell.
Where I cleaned and swept and dusted and vacuumed and sponged and sterilized yesterday there are scooters and bicycles (boys), mail in piles (me), books (boys and me), newspapers (me), magazines (me), and socks (boys and Max, the Chihuahua).
Turn my back and the boys and Max are at it again – enjoying life as boys (and a dog) while I find being a cleaning lady quite an exhausting challenge.
There is a point of no return, I’ve noticed, or at least a point of the chaos where I feel compelled to let it all go for a while and I throw up my hands and join in the fun of trashing the place.
But when I clean I like to think I’m just like the guy painting the Bridge, which I can only imagine must be a slow and methodical task.
I do it room by room, starting at one end, the front, in the event that I soon lose interest – then, at least, the front room is somewhat in order. I push it (trash, magazines, books, socks, clothes) all back from the living room, through the piano room, then into the TV room until everything lands up in the kitchen.
Once it hits the kitchen I separate out what’s Max’s – he’s has his own set of toys with which he ruins the house – what’s Nate’s, what’s Thulani’s, and what can be recycled, dumped, restacked on bookshelves, placed in drawers, hung on a hanger, or filed in the “important documents” file I keep losing.
We moved into “122” (creatively named for its street number and which has had very few updates since it was built in 1886) when Thulani was about two – and I have been getting it in order ever since. Nate joined us in 2002. Max, in 2009. The house- attachment, at least for the boys and Max, is strong. When I talk of selling Thulani reminds me that Rhino, the husky that was on the run for nine months and returned to die within a few weeks after we reconnected, is buried in an Air France first class cabin blanket just outside of the kitchen door. Nate reminds me of where the fat goldfish is buried and Thulani ends the litany with his inability to think of living in a house without the large tree in the front yard where he has his brother (and Max) have “peed like boys” (and a dog) for the past several years.
So. I’ll go on painting and, before you send me letters about giving the boys chores and responsibilities and assigning daily tasks and getting on top of it before it gets on top of me let me advise that you are barking up the wrong tree (sorry, Max for the dog metaphor) because we do have all that in place and it does work here and there and off and on.
I know, I know. Consistency is the name of the game for parenting and let me tell you, the ONLY thing that is consistent here is the need to keep going room by room with or without the boys (and Max) to get this little bridge painted one stretch at a time so the world can see just how organized and decent our lives are here at our beloved “122.”
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Being a white South African can come with complications
Being a white South African reared under Apartheid is no simple matter. It permeated everything for me. While I do not pretend to have been a political activist, I was always cognizant that my privileges, simply a result of being born white, were unmerited, and most unfair especially when enjoyed at the expense of others who were not. I think this unsettling truth (for I took advantage of my station in life) was somewhat of a companion to me from the age of about six or seven.
I am regularly aware that:- I was discouraged from playing soccer in the “front” yard (in view of the neighbors) with the servant’s children. While this may seem insignificant in the light of other much more severe problems rising from racism, it was huge for me as a child on several fronts. I loved the children and I loved soccer even more. They were excellent soccer players.
- I did attend a segregated school as did almost all white South Africans while there did exist some church schools that were integrated even under Apartheid. I vividly recall my school principal scolding the entire student body (over a thousand white boys) because a domestic worker (a black adult man) was seen walking in the neighborhood wearing a school blazer.
- Although, by no means wealthy, I was waited on hand and foot by a full-time servant.
- In the late 80s I was warned not to pray publicly for Prisoner “Nelson” Mandela from my church pulpit.
- A member of my family did balk at my request that I bring black children to his home-swimming pool to swim.
- Even as late as 1987 I was embarrassed that a young black boy whom I’d “helped” in his squatter camp had shown up at my door unannounced. I recall wondering what the neighbors would think seeing a child arriving at the home for a social visit and not to work in the yard.While I am aware that these are piddly problems in the light of what millions faced under the Apartheid regime, I am also aware that these factors in my immediate environment “shaped” me into believing perverse things (like in my own superiority and in “their” inferiority) about persons of other race groups. More significantly, I am frequently reminded that my children and I could not have shared life as we now do if we were still living in the era of Apartheid.
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Location, location – remembering winter in August
We live very close to our school and church, so close we can hear the school bell from our kitchen and the church bells in my bedroom.
Sometimes we walk to both and we don’t see the car for days.
I like it. I like not having to get in and out of the car. I like not having to negotiate traffic, something as synonymous with life in the USA as Disney, Fast Food, and the Fourth of July.
That’s the upside.
We are a 10-hour-drive to the nearest coast – and, most of the east coast beaches are not worth the drive. The west coast, which has many wonderful beaches comparable to where I was reared, takes three full days of driving to reach.
Being landlocked is one thing but another is the weather. Indiana weather is erratic, neurotic, and downright psychotic.
Days ago I could’ve (but I didn’t) ice-skated across the street. Now, as I write, there’s a small lake in the street next to the sidewalk from last night’s rain. The weather is so brutal and extreme (it is as hot as blazes in the summers) that when we do drive anywhere (there are no grocery stores in walking distance) the streets are often full of potholes making some of America’s finest suburban streets resemble stretches of road you’d find in a rural stretch of South Africa’s Wild Coast. So, I am exaggerating but really not too much. Washington Boulevard is a challenge to drive right now, you have got to dodge potholes and loose pavement or, unless you drive a tank, you stand to severely damage your suspension.
But I do love living here. My neighbors are some of my best friends. My children are free and safe in the neighborhood and everyone knows everyone’s children. Even as I write Joseph (born a week or so before Thulani) from down the street has wondered into the house and it is quite likely he will eat with us, stay the night, and then wander down back down the street to his home sometime in the morning. His mom and I will talk sometime between now and nightfall unless he of course chooses to wonder off home and be gone just as quickly as he showed up.
Potholes and crazy weather won’t send us running, although we will drive to church in the morning – even though it is really close. I’m not sure I want to brave the elements which could be a snow-storm, an ice storm, the threat of a tornado – or a little or a lot of each. What else could you expect during March in Indiana?
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Ready to adopt?
If you wait until you are ready to adopt a child you never will because you will never be ready. The baby, and only the baby, will make you ready. Reading the right books will be helpful, but “ready” magically comes upon you when a real baby is sleeping in your arms or crying in the middle of the night. If you are not ready to change diapers – and I always am amused at the big deal about this non-issue – being unprepared will last only as long as a clean diaper. Of course you can go baby-stuff-shopping, get a room painted, stencil yellow ducks on the wall – if you know long enough in advance your child is coming. But painting a bedroom with ducks and rainbows and a pot of gold, and getting a truck load of stuff from your local one-stop baby emporium will only fill your home with a lot of weird and wonderful, and mostly unnecessary, equipment.
Children interrupt everything. It is the child who is really ready to teach you, whether you are or not. Once he arrives he will become the hub of all your scheduling. You will be fine with this because the child is not an interruption to your life but rather, from this point on, central to it.
The baby will make you ready and you can’t really prepare for the baby until he is breathing in the crib right next to your bed.
Life inside the Smith household
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11 Comments
Rod E. Smith, MSMFT
Regarding the reader with the bipolar husband, I can offer a few comments based on personal experience. My brother had a girlfriend for many years who was bipolar.Early on,as a family,we soon learned how she operated.If everyone fell in line with her wishes,without challenging her,she was the sweetest person around. A completely different person emerged if we did not follow her wishes,however. Small things,such as who would cook the supper could blow up into emotional outbursts.Things deteriorated to the point where suicide threats were made when my brother wanted to go out to play tennis with his friends,and so on. This went on for years.
My brother is now married to this woman, and as a family we have had to learn to stand up for ourselves,or our lives would have become a misery. So,regardless of the tantrums and tears,we do not allow her to hold our family hostage any longer. As far as possible,we keep our dignity and do not meet aggression with aggression.We do not give in to her every wish,as this would be doing no one any favours.
received by email — posted by Rod
13 Feb 2008 06:02 am
tobeme
Not driving with him was the right thing to do. Beyond that, it really is all on him. He is the one who would have to recognize and want to change.
13 Feb 2008 12:02 pm
Nancy
I worked for an employer who is bipolar and exhibited severe tantrums from time to time. On occasion, I witnessed family behavior toward her both in the workplace as well as at home. When she behaved aggressively or in a controlling manner, her husband and adult daughter did not sit with her or walked away from her despite her pleas to come back. Similarly, employees after being berated or demeaned, did not return to work until the storm blew over. Most employees avoided or minimized interaction with the employer. Some eventually quit while one or two used the same harsh verbal tactics on her to survive. In each scenario, the person in the proverbial driver’s seat had the power to alter the course of bully behavior and succeeded. My employer and her husband have been married many years. He never lets her drive in or out of the car. Staying out of the car–I agree with Rod–was wise!
13 Feb 2008 12:02 pm
william
I’m bi-polar and people with experiences is good. Some of us go through a hell sometimes once a week, a day, or several times a day. Everyone says medication is the ticket, that is a wild goose chase and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. I’m good on my Meds. Remember most BP are highly intelligent and sometimes things aren’t logic and also through just plain mania we want control
29 May 2008 01:05 pm
Marlene
My husband is also bipolar and I have witnessed the road rage it doesn’t matter what triggers it, he becomes “the man” while driving. I can empathize with the feeling of a gun to your head. You did the right thing, you are important and so is your safety. Best Wishes
31 May 2008 12:05 pm
Anonymous
Anyone can experience “road rage” – its not just people with Bipolar. I have Bipolar and have only had one episode of “road rage” in 10 years and that was prior to my diagnosis and prior to being stable on my medication.
The DVLA (driving licence authority) in England does medical checks on all people with Bipolar with their treating psychiatrist to determine whether or not they are fit to drive. If they are, they have their driving licence renewed.
I drive around 360 miles a week. I come across countless of angry, rude, aggressive and downright unkind drivers daily.
Are you saying that they are all Bipolar? Or are you saying that those with Bipolar also, at times, exhibit these kinds of characteristics along with the general population?
Blaming “normal” unhealthy human behaviour on Bipolar is not helpful to either you or the Bipolar sufferer. The person with Bipolar has to learn to recognise what makes them feel angry in the first place. If their spouse/employee/family always blames anger/frustration/rage/annoyance/irritation on “Bipolar” that is a sure fire way to make the Bipolar sufferer feel anger/frustration/rage/annyance/irritation. They, like everyone else on the planet, feel these normal emotions from time to time. To attribute it to Bipolar and to not to normal human feelings, is to undermine that person further and to invalidate their feelings thereby leading to further depression.
Look at your own self and your own negative emotions and behaviour and see if you come up smelling of roses!
02 Jul 2008 04:07 am
kaleidoscopegirl
I, too, have bi-polar disorder, which I continue to try to manage. Fortunately, my illness does not exhibit itself in the form of angry outbursts or aggressiveness to others. However, it does incite me to behave in ways that reflect my tendency towards self-loathing. Readers can go to cmyplace.wordpress.com and search for bi-polar disorder to find examples of an insider’s experience with this difficult mental illness.
Many others with bi-polar disorder DO have severe anger episodes. However, obviously, as “Anonymous” accurately points out, not everyone with road-rage is bi-polar. I don’t think Rod’s reader was suggesting that.
I can recommend two books that have helped my family and me understand the idiosyncrasies of bi-polar disorder. They are “Bi-Polar Disorder Demystified” by Lana R. Castle,and “An Unquiet Mind” by Kay Redfield Jamison. There are also countless resources online that can help family and friends of people with difficult behaviors determine if, in fact, those behaviors are the result of an illness.
20 Sep 2008 10:09 am
Anonymous
My husband was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. I have known him 14 years, we have been a couple for about 8 of these years and married almost 3. We met in high school, and he wasn’t always exhibiting symptoms, but towards the end of high school and into college looking back, we can see that they were present. One that he still exhibits is the road rage. I would tell him I was afraid to drive with him and that made him make even more reckless choices, the solution was that if we were going somewhere as a couple, I drive. The solution was hard for him to accept at first, but I stuck to my guns. I asked him if he was fearful of his life when I drove and he said no. I then told him it made most sense to choose the path that made both people comfortable rather than only one. You may want to be the designated driver in any circumstance that you have to be in the car together.
14 Oct 2008 12:10 pm
wife
My husband is also bipolar and I have to say that even though I do get annoyed with other drives I don’t get so hell bent that I’m rude to them and try to cut them off. I think what others are trying to say is that it COULD be part of one persons bipolar trait and NOT of someone else s – we are all very different and I know that when someone is bipolar it can effect them different then “john smith” down the street.
I’ve decided to not let my children ride in my bipolar husbands car anymore just do to the nature of his driving he has gotten better – when I first met him I didn’t let him drive when we had my daughter in the car because he scared me!!! **on his days off work hes a much better driver or when he’s had a “good” night. Funny how the “little” things can effect a person.
when he gets to be an even better drive I don’t mind him driving until then they I feel are safer with me since I can control the annoying thoughts better than him. Of course if its an emergency or whatever and he needs to take them I will just say a quick prayer!!
22 Dec 2008 01:12 pm
toomuchtohandle
I’m convinced my husband is bipolar(and so does the gp), he bluntly refuses to seek prof help(says he isnt MAD) after today i’m convinced that iits more than just a bipolar disorder! we have had many many road rage incidents ,actually each time were in the car, sometimes worst than other times… from getting out of our car and kicking someones car to him dropping us off on the side of the road and going after the ‘other’ vehicle… what i am afraid of is how this mannic behaviour is affecting my 8yr old.. when is enough and why am i so scared!
25 Jan 2009 04:01 pm
Driving Licence
Please don’t going for drive with him. It is not good for you and your family. Understand him with the cool mind and if he is not understand then take a hard step against him.
Many peoples are of bi-polar nature, i think sometimes it is good or sometimes it is so dangerous. You can pick his driving licence and give it to the police. He want to change.
19 Aug 2009 12:08 pm
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