A year or two ago I started mentioning to close friends that I felt like something was wrong with me. I was having a lot of anxiety. My thoughts were becoming more and more irrational.
My friend Scarlett kept asking what I thought was wrong. I kept telling her that I was a very "complicated" person. That was the only way I knew to explain it. I'm not sure I was even able to put what I was feeling into words.
I was worrying about everything and everyone around me. These feelings intensified when my Mother passed away in April. I was worried to death about my Dad, and how he would cope. Less than a month after Mom's death, my son had an accident on his skateboard that required a CAT scan, and layers of stitches and staples in the back of his head. Two major events, back-to-back, that I had absolutely no control over, launched my insanity into overdrive.
I was aware of the fact that much of the change in my mental well being had occurred when my husband quit drinking. In fact, he kept telling me I needed to focus on my own issues; maybe I should even consider going to Al-Anon.
That really pissed me off.
Someone suggested I read a book called "Feeling Good". This book had some good information, but didn't really fit me. My sister-in-law said she thought I needed to try some counseling. I felt she was right but I kept putting it off.
Every time I'd have two or three good days in a row, seeking help would take a back burner. I'd feel better, so maybe I could just lick this on my own.
That leads us right up to the unfortunate "deck incident" described in Part One of this entry. As bad as it was, it had to happen. I had to hit the wall that morning.
I spent the day (a Sunday) feeling angry, embarrassed and ashamed of my insane behavior. After a lot of soul searching and praying for an answer, I realized these issues of mine were some kind of sick web, spun out of my need to control, driven by my husband's drinking, and ultimately his sobriety.
On Monday I headed to the bookstore.
Welcome Summer; Please Be Kind
6 hours ago