Monday, November 09, 2009
A big step forward
In recent months, my nonstop work, coupled with insufficient sleep, had led to my being ever more exhausted and emotionally wrung out. I warned my husband that I'd reached the ragged edge of my endurance. Literally days later I got hit with a serious problem... and my anxiety level shot up to the point where I was getting shaky and unable to relax or sleep well. This had happened before; that time, it spiraled down into my needing meds to stop what had become an around the clock state of what felt like intense FEAR (the word "anxiety" had ceased to cover it) that left me virtually unable to function.
My husband's reaction, far from being helpful or compassionate, was to become more derisive, argumentative, and patronizing, in other words to take advantage of my weakened state to score points off of me... which he continued to do even when my shrink told him point blank that my health depended on his knocking it off. He tried to do the same thing this time... oh yes, he TRIED. I'm older and wiser this time around, though, and when he responded to my staggering out of bed to check on something that my whirling brain wouldn't let me sleep without handling with LAUGHTER, I turned on him and let loose at full volume... visualize the ceiling CRACKING. I told him point blank that I was right on the verge of having that acute anxiety get too dug into my brain for anything but meds to stop it, and that every ounce of effort we could make had to go towards reversing that while we still could, IF we still could. This meant that his beloved tactics of responding to everything I say with "blah blah blah," "bull bull bull," making elaborate faces, and other antics the sole purpose of which was to increase my level of upset were to come to a complete halt, and that if he couldn't manage anything resembling a HUMAN response to whatever my anxiety drove me to do he'd better at least refrain from any further merriment at my expense, or any other actions intended to reflect his sick idea of my "being ridiculous" when in fact I'm sliding towards the nightmare of runaway anxiety, which is a MEDICAL ISSUE and not a decision to behave "ridiculously." I told him:
"If I determine that you're doing ANYTHING to increase my level of stress, anxiety or upset during this crisis, you're OUT. You'll vacate the premises immediately, and you won't be allowed back under any circumstances until I'm stable again."
I meant it... and as the sole owner of this house, I can enforce it.
He's been on his best behavior ever since, which has allowed me to focus on anti-stress measures and getting solid sleep... and I'm doing much better. I spent the weekend steadfastly refusing to think about the issue, and that helped enormously also. I don't know what will happen once the business week gets under way and I have to go back to battling the issue, but I'm reasonably confident that I have a good chance of dodging the "acute anxiety bullet"; my new coping method clearly represents a big step forward in my ability to handle this sort of situation.
{fingers crossed}
My husband's reaction, far from being helpful or compassionate, was to become more derisive, argumentative, and patronizing, in other words to take advantage of my weakened state to score points off of me... which he continued to do even when my shrink told him point blank that my health depended on his knocking it off. He tried to do the same thing this time... oh yes, he TRIED. I'm older and wiser this time around, though, and when he responded to my staggering out of bed to check on something that my whirling brain wouldn't let me sleep without handling with LAUGHTER, I turned on him and let loose at full volume... visualize the ceiling CRACKING. I told him point blank that I was right on the verge of having that acute anxiety get too dug into my brain for anything but meds to stop it, and that every ounce of effort we could make had to go towards reversing that while we still could, IF we still could. This meant that his beloved tactics of responding to everything I say with "blah blah blah," "bull bull bull," making elaborate faces, and other antics the sole purpose of which was to increase my level of upset were to come to a complete halt, and that if he couldn't manage anything resembling a HUMAN response to whatever my anxiety drove me to do he'd better at least refrain from any further merriment at my expense, or any other actions intended to reflect his sick idea of my "being ridiculous" when in fact I'm sliding towards the nightmare of runaway anxiety, which is a MEDICAL ISSUE and not a decision to behave "ridiculously." I told him:
"If I determine that you're doing ANYTHING to increase my level of stress, anxiety or upset during this crisis, you're OUT. You'll vacate the premises immediately, and you won't be allowed back under any circumstances until I'm stable again."
I meant it... and as the sole owner of this house, I can enforce it.
He's been on his best behavior ever since, which has allowed me to focus on anti-stress measures and getting solid sleep... and I'm doing much better. I spent the weekend steadfastly refusing to think about the issue, and that helped enormously also. I don't know what will happen once the business week gets under way and I have to go back to battling the issue, but I'm reasonably confident that I have a good chance of dodging the "acute anxiety bullet"; my new coping method clearly represents a big step forward in my ability to handle this sort of situation.
{fingers crossed}
