We are no longer at the point in our lives where we get invited to many weddings, but if we were I would tell the bride and groom this:
Make sure the person you’ve chosen to spend the rest of your life with is the first person you think of calling when things are falling apart. Not only because you need them to know – but because you know they can and will help you pick it all up again.
I pride myself (probably beyond the point of healthy) on being able to do so much without any help. I will wear my to-do list like a girl scout badge surrounded by golden stars. I can usually tell when the facade is about to crack, though. My body and mind can take a lot, but when I stop listening to the normal cues it sends me to slow it down a bit, it finds ways to get my attention. Its favorite thing to do is break out in some hideous facial rash. Nothing gets you to take it down a notch and retreat like a funked-up face.
Something new is starting. I’m not sure if my body has decided the old way isn’t working and it’s time to ramp up the warning signs, or if something entirely new is going on with me. Or if I just ate one too many chorizo-and-pickled tomato sandwiches. But yesterday, for the second time in a month, I felt what I can only describe as a mild panic attack.
It started mid-morning. I felt anxious and jittery. It felt like my heart was beating faster, but it wasn’t. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, but I could breath just fine. I couldn’t concentrate, and it took me 30 minutes to get turkey slices and spaghetti-o’s on the table for lunch because I kept losing the can opener and forgetting exactly what I was trying to accomplish in the first place. I was beyond irritable.
I spent half the day trying to hold my shit together, until I couldn’t anymore. One look at me and Mike knew all was not well. I surrendered to bed and he took over. I emerged a few hours later and felt normal again. I have no idea what that episode was, or what it means, but I do know this:
Mike and I are very lucky to have each other. So maybe we can’t agree (ever) on how to load the dishwasher. Maybe, after nearly 15 years of marriage, those things we found so endearing now irritate the crap out of us. But when one of us is broken, the other one is right there to pick up the pieces and gently put them back in place again.
I can’t think of anything more you’d want in a spouse.
Angie: Great photo of your hubs. Did you take it?
Loved this sweet post:) btw– the site is snazzy!
I did take it. I kept bugging him that he needed a new Twitter avatar and facebook profile picture. Thanks – I’m slowly but surely learning WordPress. I love it, though. So much easier and more intuitive than Typepad. If you ever want to make the switch, I know a guy . . . 🙂
Three cheers for a man who can clean up the mess when his wife has a minor meltdown. Not that *my* husband knows anything about that…
Stress + hormones + more stress + the to do list + too many chorizo and pickle tomato sandwhiches = a mild panic attack. Yes, definitely your body’s way of telling you to take it easy. Gotta’ love Mike for stepping up to the plate. For what it’s worth, I think you are awesome and the blog looks great!
I get it…on a lot of levels! I had (I think) a panic attack in April. Had way too much on my plate, my to-do list was endless, wasn’t sleeping. Your facial rash is my loss of voice (and given what I do for a living, that isn’t good)…like you, this time that didn’t happen. Weirdest feeling ever. Took me 3-4 hours to be able to breathe right again.
That sounds just like me, even down to the duration of the attack. Glad to know I’m not (too) crazy.
Great post!
I have one of those too. We started dating in January 1995, and became best friends really fast. 16 years later, we’re still going strong. 🙂
You are exactly right—and kudos to Mike for seeing it in your face. A few years ago, I was sick with a sinus infection and in denial – leilan came home and said, “Go upstairs. You look like you’re going to drive the car into the lake.” I went upstairs and slept for 14 hours.