Wobbling towards Higher Ground

Easter passed. But I stayed stuck, wrestling with shoulds.

Monday morning I had to admit: my voice of objection barely etched the edifice of our public servants on the forum. I was not the voice of authority I had flattered myself to be. I saw myself as the canary in the coal mine and that other's well-being was threatened, if I had the response I did to our disruptive newcomer. However, to our program representatives, my continued emotional response identified ME as having a problem that I needed to see a therapist about! Maybe they were right.

I stepped back from full participation in our group, once I decided that I could not support the forum and it did not adequately care for my concerns. I needed to feel safe, and that responsibility lay with me. I did my best to focus on the good.

Boy, was I looking forward to the prospect of Holy Week’s triggers receding in my rear view mirror! Unfortunately, the structure of my real life did not fall into place immediately after Easter.

That Monday my son needed to stay home sick. Next day, I kept him home again. I did not return to routines, like exercise. Because I not have our forum to fully participate in, I wasn't as connected to my emotions.

Today I see that keeping my son home an additional day, fostered a link between my mental-health day and my son’s cold that did not help me strengthen myself. Wednesday (and T's return to school) came too late to regain my equilibrium. Without exercise and routines, I'd begun spiraling into poor sleep and intrusive night thoughts. I got too close to that place of dissociation and paranoia by Wednesday afternoon. That's when T came home from school, after two days of being “good” and kind to me in my vulnerability, to be a typical ten-year-old, challenging my authority with humor. That afternoon I simply did not "get" humor. I got FEAR (false evidence becoming real). I am just grateful I COULD call my therapist in a panic and begin to walk back towards understanding and away from the tipping point of my illness.

The symptoms of my emotional bottom had recurred to such an extent that it was time to act. My therapist decided for me (much in the way a midwife does when one is at a stalling point in the birth process) what needed to be done. She made clear that this was a time to use medications. I started with a small dose that very night. As a result I slept very well, so well that I had to cancel my attendance of a meeting of a parent advisory subgroup, at our school district’s office. My mental health crisis put this meeting into sharp perspective. It made no sense to show up to look normal and take that meeting seriously, after being so close to relapse.

Nor did I make my solid waste task force facility tour that same Saturday. I could not act as if I were a normal person, showing up to act committed, caring and interested in garbage. I acted as if I were a flake, instead.

Instead, I put the pressure on myself to show up later on Saturday for a lunch send-off for my friend’s husband. The following week he would be leaving Athens for pre-deployment training in the Midwest. (He would be serving in Afghanistan for 10 months, beginning in June.) What kind of friend draws attention to her vulnerabilities and doesn’t show up for a “real” test of support and faith?

On the other hand, I see how insistent I was "shoulding" on myself, goading myself into showing up for others at a time when I was decompensating. Afraid to isolate, I chose to put my mental health concerns aside to support a friend. I hoped this would push me back into normalizing. Yet, I also knew that I would not be able to share my struggles with my friend or lean too much on her. My friend would not be able to support me in my moment of need. NOT because of any shortcoming on her part. Rather because she must show up as a parent to her kids, and not sacrifice their well-being for mine. My friend, a single mom when her husband is away in the military, cannot be expected to be my support, especially as she lives across town and has two children not yet of school age.

It is also the very nature of emotional vulnerabilities: I have to handle mine in my own way and without dragging in too many different opinions.

Further, I would find my stress level going up, when she told me of her big plans for me to help her AND her husband in their respective writing projects. My gut told me that to help them would have to take its pound of flesh from my own writing focus. Would I be willing to sacrifice at some future date? (My stomach said "NO!")

As I looked ahead, I knew I had to regain trust of myself and stabilize before my husband went out of town again the last week of school in mid-May. Mid–May looked was a major leap away from where I was wobbling.

It felt then that "showing up" in support clearly was no a place for me to stand and rest, but had put me in queue to take on more work. To argue with friends, and set a boundary, during in their time of stability-seeking would help none of us. THIS was not the time to say “no” to the new expectations they had voiced.

I was looking for indications that I could have a time of peace, alone. I needed a step to sit on and gain perspective. Fortunately my scheduled appointment with Dr. S. was two days away.