Oh you guys…thanks so much for all the wonderful comments and suggestions about relieving my anxiety. It means so much that you took the time to leave a note. So much. I’m going to look up all the authors and podcasts you suggested, I’m scheduled for my doctors’ appointments next month and, as soon as things let up at work, I’ll be walking and doing yoga again. The breathing I can do NOW if I can stop long enough and remember. I will definitely try.
While I was thinking about this all freaking weekend, I figured out something else…I have closed down a little and stopped talking. I’m holding things in that have absolutely no business hanging around in my head where the bitch that lives there can play with them. Specifically, I don’t talk to the hubs in the same way that I used to. If I am talking to him and he’s not really paying attention (you know, focused totally on me like I’m the only woman in the world that matters…all while he’s driving or watching his favorite show or trying to do a million things at once for the kids) than I shut down. I lock it up and wallow in self pity and listen to all the ugly things the bitch is trying to tell me.
Yep…now there’s healthy processing for you. I oughta write a book on that shit.
See, back in the day, I would verbally vomit on my husband on a regular basis. Didn’t matter what he had going on or what was on his mind, I would regale him with all of my problems at work, problems with mother and sister, problems with myself…just problems. Then, once it was out of my face, I could let it go. And if I couldn’t, I’d wait until date night when a sip of the grape would loosen my tongue a little more and I’d REALLY get going. He was my therapist. My personal guru. Nodding appropriately, not trying to actually fix anything (after we went through John Gray training), just listening and letting me work through it.
I miss that so much. We still talk, but things have changed. I quit drinking. Plain and simple, I don’t have the booze to get me going and lower my inhibitions and shut up the bitch that lives in my head so I don’t second guess everything I say AND read more into this response than is actually there. Date nights are completely different now. We end up talking about lots of other stuff going on in our lives…okay – we end up talking about either my work or our kids…but still. It just seems like so much trouble to even start a conversation about what’s going on in my head that I don’t feel like I have the energy. I know there’s not enough time – either he’s rushing to get home to the dogs or we’re done with dinner and we have to leave the restaurant. Where we used to go to another bar for a drink (or six), now we just go home; and home for us (thank GOD) is a hustling and bustling place that is not conducive to deep, extremely private, conversations.
Even the time we went to stay at Ritz for our anniversary, conversation was stilted. I tried to start up a little but he didn’t seem interested and, just keeping it real here, since it was my first romantic weekend without wine, I was feeling a little out of sorts myself. I wanted to talk about how I was feeling but I was sure he was sick to death with hearing about my recovery and how I was feeling so I just kept it to myself. (I told you…that bitch starts talking and all rational thought leaves my head.)
I’ll figure this out and come out on the other side. This whole recovery thing, while wonderful and exciting, can be hard sometimes. I told the hubs this weekend that many times I sit and ponder, what goes on in the heads of people who are not addicts, or clinically depressed, or homonally unbalanced. I mean…what do they think about? What would I do with all that free head time?
Namaste my friends…and thank you.