I opened a cabinet and something came at me and shattered into a million pieces. I screamed, grabbed the refrigerator door handle and froze, crying and shaking, then realized I was surrounded by glass. I remember saying I couldn’t move. I remember my husband moving around me. I remember squeezing my eyes shut and my heart pounding. I remember being very very worried about my dogs and asking my son to put them in the living room.
I couldn’t move at all. My face stung from the salt of the tears rolling down my cheeks. My legs and arms cramped from the strain of my body insisting it had to just… stay. And the sweat.
That’s something that I’ve only noticed recently, but I am certain has been an issue all my life. When these things happen. When I have some kind of adrenaline-driven response… I sweat. And it’s not the pretty, girly, glowy sweat like actresses get in action movies. It’s the stench of fear wafting from every pore on my body.
Frozen, in the way of my husband who was trying to clean up shards of what turned out to be a broken measuring cup that had fallen from the top shelf of the cabinet when I opened it, stinking, and cramping. Oh, and crying.
While all of this was going on my husband was trying to quickly clean around me so he could leave to take my son to a lesson on time, and had no idea how to help me act like a normal human being. I should say at this point that the kitchen is clean and glass-shard-free. The dogs are roaming about freely. I am unglued and have showered, therefore less stinky. My arms and legs, although sore, are no longer cramping. So everything is all clear in the household. We’re all fine. No worries. Except…
My husband didn’t know how to help me act like a normal human being. This isn’t something new. This is something of an issue we’re having and have had and will continue to have. It is difficult to live with a spouse who has things like autistic tantrums and meltdowns, and it is difficult to live with a spouse who has a chronic pain disorder, and it is difficult to live with a spouse coping with depression. My husband deals with all three of these things every day, non-stop, 24-7 on top of whatever issues he has going on internally and externally and the basic pressures of life. His general helplessness when it comes to my meltdowns is something of a conundrum and it’s been very prevalent of late because I had a rash of meltdowns recently.
Mind you, I have this theory that there is a way to 1. prevent me from melting down in the first place and barring that 2. talk/ soothe me down from a meltdown once there or at least 3. shorten the duration/ lessen the damage or the toll the meltdown takes on me in some way shape or form if it gets that far. I believe it’s a group effort sort of endeavor, and that if we all work together we can have a harmonious household where I’m not bat shit crazy all of the time.
Therefore, after he left to take my son to his lesson. I took a long hot shower. While in the shower washing off my fear-stench I had this revelation: I couldn’t let go of the refrigerator door because I was afraid and felt helpless and I didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. My husband cleaned up the glass because he was afraid and felt helpless and didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. He knew how to clean up the glass, so he did.
I’ve been worse lately and I attribute it to high amounts of stress and higher levels of Mexiletine. The house has been a hot spot of negativity and snipping and arguments and we’ve had several bad things happen and did I mention I’m stressed and I hurt all the time?
I’m trying to come up with a way to help my husband cope with my meltdowns. I want to say, “There are tons of articles on the internet, perhaps you could read some of them.” But that makes me feel bitchy and like I’m taking my problem and putting it in his lap. But it is really our problem. I want to help him deal with me. I don’t know how to go about it effectively, and I’m fuck all at saying these things to him in person so I’m going to have him read this blog entry. Perhaps he’ll have some suggestion, or perhaps he will embark on some research of his own while I’m busy with school work. My fear is that he is going to respond by saying, “Perhaps instead of the Angel marathon you could have looked for some solutions to our communications problems since it’s obviously weighing heavy on your mind.”
It is weighing heavy on my mind, and I do want to fix it. But I’ve also been in a great deal of pain for the past few days and I have been trying to keep things as low-stress as possible. Tonight I have to focus on school-work and avoid being distracted by things that cause intense emotional responses. My worries about how he reacts to my freakishness cause me a great deal of distress that I have trouble articulating vocally.
We’ll just see how things go. Everything can wait until tomorrow. For now… relaxation, scented candles, and a little homework… then sleep I think. I’m exhausted. That stupid measuring cup wore me out.