Have you ever had an emotional breakdown? Even a small one? Maybe you've cried with some constancy in public? Maybe you've cried over chips at Don Pablo's? or pancakes at Cracker Barrel?
I have done most of these things in the last year.
This weekend I met my very best friends for a 30th birthday celebration and the emotional breakdown began.
I was so, so petrified of leaving my husband for the 48 hours I was scheduled to be gone, that I was paralyzed and very nearly canceled my trip. But because I am so, so very isolated, I decided to take a leap of faith and head out of town for a mini-vacation.
This may have been a mistake.
Yes, I had a "fun" time crying all weekend with people that are my favorite people. Yes, I feel reconnected with several of those people. Yes, I finally got to tell my best friend who lives less than an hour from me that she has done a horrible job supporting me in this new-found (is that hyphenated?) diagnosis and state of my marriage.
All good things, right?
Even though I believe the experience to be the beginning of me letting go of a lot of things, I was greeted on the last morning with my friends with the knowledge that my husband had not gone to work the night before due to paralyzing panic/depression, and that he was just about to fall apart. After listening to my wonderful husband cry off-and-on for about 15 minutes and only seem somewhat happy after talking to me, I wondered to myself if it was worth me going on this tiny vacation.
I felt as if all of my worst fears were confirmed. I felt a tremendous sense of dread in coming home. But you know what I don't understand about myself--I did not tell my friends what had happened. Friends that I sat up with until 1 o'clock at night, which is REALLY late for me because my bedtime is 9:30, trying to reconcile feeling isolated and scared and trying to get rid of all of the irrational fear.
Maybe I wanted everything to be okay. I kept telling my husband that everything would work out, and maybe I wanted to believe that myself. Maybe everything is okay and I'm making too much out of a minor setback. Maybe I need to relax.
But as I'm sitting here taking a break from taking care of my husband, I wonder if everything is going to be okay. And I wonder if I will ever get to relax and enjoy my life with my wonderfully creative husband.
Yikes. That's depressing.
I'm off to plan our summer road trip and attempt to iron out a schedule even a man with Asperger's will be happy with.