Labels

I don’t know what to call him.
Maybe we aren’t supposed to pay such mind to labels, but it does make it hard to write this blog.
Now that he has stated that our relationship is nonexistent, he’s been maintaining a pretty good relationship, for him. His been more attentive to our daughter than ever. He wants to have lunch together every Friday. We end up having lunch together most other work days as well–we still share finances, and (again, his idea) its a lot cheaper to keep sandwich supplies in his parents’ fridge which is close to my work. He asks me to go out and complete Ingress missions with him. When he picks up our daughter after school, he usually suggests we all go out for dinner afterward, or even a movie. In fact, he expresses disappointment if I just hurry out after I pick her up from him: “Oh. I thought we were going to hang out or something… ” He occasionally has been coming over to watch a video and have dinner-about once every week or two (but now that Grimm has restarted, it will probably be once per week). And yes, he stays the night on these occasions. He has even voluntarily helped me a couple of times when I was in need. When I got a flat, he insisted I take his car, then he took mine in and got new tires so I wouldn’t miss any work. So ex-fiancee seems inaccurate and harsh.

But then what? Not fiancee, not boyfriend, not partner, most definitely not the husband he was supposed to be before our wedding crashed and burned. I don’t know if it’s his bipolar disorder or just him, but other things have made it clear that we aren’t having any of those relationships, with or without the label. I have had to find other people to pick our daughter up from school at the last minute because he has suddenly made other plans when he is supposed to pick her up, and not made any arrangements for anyone to pick her up. Including letting me know. I came home from work one day to find that he had gotten into my apartment and filled it with used furniture he’d gotten for free. I mean filled it. My own stuff was thrown aside or unreachable behind this crap. He was truly shocked that I wasn’t pleased and was unable to explain why he thought out daughter needed two beds. (For those who aren’t familiar with bipolarism: this would be a manic episode). This isn’t something you do to someone with PTSD though. Try to imagine the shock and fear of coming home and finding out that someone had gotten into your home, and the utter surreal confusion at finding that they had stacked a bunch of furniture in there willy nilly. Now just magnify the physical sensations and fear and anxiety by about 10000 and you start to get the idea. And he knows this. He knows this. Does his bipolar disorder give him the excuse to ignore it? Why am I always the one who gets second consideration, then? Is there a chart somewhere that shows that Bipolar trumps PTSD?
And yes, he’s been voluntarily helpful at times. But he’s very clearly choosing when. I don’t even want to talk about the lice thing. In a relationship, should you expect the other person to be there when you are in trouble? Or is it OK to have a relationship where you expect to be on your own and are occasionally pleasantly surprised when the other person does randomly pop up to help out?

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