Loving with Bipolar II: The War Inside My Head and My Marriage

Loving someone when you have Bipolar II isn’t easy.

Being loved while having Bipolar II is even harder.

Especially when your brain constantly tells you you’re not enough.

That you’re too much.

That one day, the person you love is going to wake up, look at you, and realize they made a mistake.

And even when they don’t—when they show up, when they stay, when they hold space for your highs and lows—your trauma doesn’t always believe them. My trauma doesn’t always believe them.

I have a supportive partner. Someone who has chosen me through the ups and the crashes. Someone who’s held me when I was spiraling, calmed me when I was overthinking, and loved me even on the days I couldn't love myself.

And yet—my brain still panics.

Anxious Attachment + Bipolar = A Mind That Won’t Rest

I’ve lived through abandonment.

I’ve lived through emotional chaos, betrayal, and people who walked away without explanation.

So now, my body and brain stay on high alert.

Even in safe spaces. Even in love.

It’s like I’m always preparing for the worst, especially in my relationship.

I’ll start fights over tiny things.

I’ll scan for signs that they’re pulling away—imagined or real.

I’ll convince myself they’re going to leave, so I try to beat them to it.

I’ll say things I don’t mean.

I’ll pick apart moments that were never meant to be taken personally.

And then I’ll wake up the next day feeling like none of it happened. Ready to move on like we’re fine—because in that moment, I feel fine.

But the damage lingers.

Even if we “make up,” that doesn’t erase the fear I caused or the hurt I created.

It doesn’t fix the way I keep bracing for heartbreak, even when I’m surrounded by love.

The Guilt That Comes with Being Loved

I often feel like I’m too complicated to love.

Like my partner deserves someone calmer. More stable. Easier to understand.

Someone who doesn’t question their love constantly.

Someone who doesn’t say “I’m leaving” over something as small as a tone, a look, a delayed text.

And that guilt? It’s heavy.

Because deep down, I know I’m not being fair.

Not to them. And not to myself.

I know I’m responding to old wounds.

To the part of me that still believes love has to be chaotic, conditional, or earned.

But my partner isn’t those people.

They’re not my past.

And they don’t deserve to be punished for the pain someone else caused me.

Learning to Stay

The hardest thing I’ve had to learn in my marriage isn’t how to “be better” or “stop overreacting.”

It’s how to stay.

Stay when my brain is telling me to run.

Stay when I want to shut down.

Stay when the voice in my head says, “You’re ruining everything.”

Staying doesn’t mean pretending everything’s okay. It means communicating the mess.

Letting my partner in when I’d rather retreat.

Saying “I’m scared” instead of starting a war.

Saying “this is a trauma response” instead of creating distance.

It means choosing to believe—over and over again—that I’m worthy of love even when I’m not at my best.

If You Relate to This…

If you’ve lived with Bipolar II…

If you’ve been shaped by abandonment or emotional trauma…

If you overthink, overreact, and over-love out of fear…

I want you to know you’re not alone.

There are so many of us navigating love with broken maps.

But we’re still allowed to find safe places to land.

Therapy helps. Boundaries help. Naming the pattern helps.

And so does forgiving yourself—even when you mess up.

Even when you explode and then feel fine the next morning.

Even when you’re scared to stay, but you do it anyway.

You’re allowed to grow inside your relationship.

You’re allowed to rewire how you love.

And most of all—you’re allowed to be loved while you’re still healing.

Some Resources That Might Help:

The Attachment Project – Learn more about anxious attachment & how to work through it

NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) – Resources for bipolar disorder and relationships

Check your local area – Many community clinics, universities, and non-profits offer free or sliding-scale therapy and relationship support

I’m still learning how to be present in love.

How to not let my fear of loss become the reason I lose the people who love me.

It’s a process. A painful, beautiful, ongoing one.

But I believe I’m worth the work.

And if you’re still reading this—so are you.

With gentleness,

Briana