Like ADD on Steroids

I don't even know where to begin. I feel like I'm watching someone else's life unfold in 10 different directions. Things used to be so manageable even when the stress level was completely maxed out. Now, I don't know which way to go first. Ever see one of those gizmos on the spokes of a child's bike? Those colorful little beads on the spokes that go out from the center as the bike goes faster, then rise and fall away from the center the slower the bike goes? To say I am at a crossroads would be an understatement. That would imply there are only 4 directions to choose from. I feel like those beads on the tire going up and down and to and from the center on all those spokes. Just along for the ride.

Thursday night, my 9 year-old daughter told me she wanted to make one of those glass bottle trees. She mentioned we would be able to finish one pretty fast because of all the beer daddy drinks. She says, "Dad drinks 4 to 6 beers like every night. He starts when he walks in the door before you get home. He says he does that because he is under a lot of stress, but there are pills for stress, right mom? It's not a good idea to drink all that, is it mom?" Talk about being speechless. A few weeks ago, she made a comment that we can only go somewhere for dinner after work if mommy drives because daddy's had beers already, and how she gets mad if mommy doesn't feel like driving daddy around. It's about an hour's drive each way to and from work. I don't always feel like getting right behind the wheel again, especially to play designated driver. The second half of this incident is even more interesting.

I get a phone call at work on Saturday afternoon from my husband. He asks me why I told our daughter that daddy drinks because he's stressed and that's not good. She told him mommy said there's pills for stress and drinking that much is not good. Their conversation happened when the two of them went to dinner on Friday night while I stayed home and rested. Forgot to mention I had to go back into surgury on Monday, but that's another story. So I'm sitting at work, listening to my husband retell the conversation and I'm correcting him telling him about the conversation daughter and I had the previous night. About a week before this, daughter asked me if I'd ever divorce daddy. Of course I say no, but now everything is falling into place. Daughter is worried and anxious, and is trying to fix everything before it falls apart. First of all, this is a huge sign that we need help. Secondly, as I sit at my desk, I'm realizing I have to have a serious conversation with my husband about his alcohol intake. I'm realizing this is going to get ugly. Honestly, a large part of my anxiety the day he had to pick me up from work came from the strong possibility that he may not have been able to come get me because he had already started drinking. Thankfully, he hadn't.

I trust him, but I can't rely on him. Some would say these are one in the same, but I disagree. For as long as I can remember, I have been the emotional rock. I have always been the consistancy in the craziness. I've always been able to compartmentalize things rationally and realistically...until now. What happens when the rock begins to crumble? What happens when I'm the one who has to raise the white flag? I used to be able to cry. I can't anymore. I just push everything away into the back of my mind, which isn't any healthier than him using alcohol to combat stress and anxiety. I'm fooling myself if I think I can do this for much longer. The problem is, I am a great caregiver. Not so great in the care receiving department. Husband is not so great at the caregiving, but great at receiving it, main reason why I had to go back to surgery. Either way, it's screwed up.

A coworker of mine was talking about anxious people, and how they project their anxiety onto others, that others are the problem and not them. He mentioned several key elements that really got my attention. I'm basically married to anxiety. Calm, cool, collected, even-keeled me is married to the exact opposite. It was shortly after this conversation that my husband called with the above details. After the phone call from husband, I found myself standing there in my office, staring out the window trying my best to stave off a panic attack, wishing for just that moment to be somewhere else, anywhere but where I was, and have to do anything other than what I had to when I got home that night. It's Sunday afternoon as I type this. We have yet to finish the conversation that started yesterday evening. One would not find me so even-keeled as of late. I don't even recognize myself.