24 little hours
The highs and lows of a single day can be mind bending. The fifth of July was one of those days for me. We spent it with some friends at the Pacific Aquarium in Long Beach. We marvelled at tropical fish of the most amazing colors, shapes, and design. We walked along the boardwalk of fisherman's village. We decided to eat at a little restaurant overlooking the marina- and also decided that it would be okay to eat a full meal instead of an appetizer as long as they accepted Discover. They did, so we did. At the end of the meal, we split the tab in half- putting down our Discover card to pay for our portion. The waiter returned with a secret message to share with Craig (which can't remain secret for long and is quite obvious to anyone sitting at the table). The Discover card wasn't accepted. The other couple ended up paying for our meal. This changed our mood quickly, although I was certain that it wasn't the end of the world- just an accounting error on the part of Discover. When we returned home, Craig immediately called the credit company and found out that we were indeed overdrawn. He withdrew quickly into his shell. He wouldn't speak to me. He wouldn't let me speak to him. He went into his room and closed the door. He came out once so that we could take care of Otto's medicine, but then went back to his room and shut me out for the entire evening. I was left to my own devices, and at my own hands, I beat myself up so badly that I could hardly recognize myself after.
I knew that our financial situation was my fault. It's very difficult to say no to me- and I'd talked us into a wedding we couldn't afford, restaurants and small vacations, and other purchases that put us into a financial predicament that would be very difficult to fix. I'd failed at keeping the house as it should be kept, especially for a wife who didn't hold a job. All of these things were washing over Craig, and I knew he was feeling like he couldn't be with me anymore, and I didn't blame him. I cried over how irresponsible I've always been, and how I've managed to screw up another person's life along with my own. I looked back on my life with great disgust, and said horrible things to myself that I believed wholeheartedly. I was so tired of being here, so tired of not being able to do the very things I had to do. I was tired of talking about the work I would do, but unable to take the steps to get there. At my worst, I was deciding that it just wasn't worth it to be here anymore. I didn't care about the pain that my "disappearance" would cause others. I thought that eventually there would be some good that comes from the bad, as there always is. Some lesson that might be learned by those affected. I thought about driving to the ocean, and just not coming back. I thought about my unfinished business and how there should be things that I do first- letters written, things organized. I thought that maybe I should talk to someone about how I was feeling, but that would just be a cry for attention, and that ability of mine was something I was so disgusted with. No, if I was serious, I would go about my life without telling anyone about what I was planning. I cried that I would not experience the love of children, but I knew that my parenting skills would only serve to hurt instead of nurture. I got up to use the bathroom, and when I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize my reflection. The person looking back at me was distorted, like in a fun-house mirror. She didn't have my eyes- her eyes were gray and she despised me. I went back to my couch, and stayed there all night, making certain that what little hope I had inside was not allowed to creep forward. I planned, and I wrote one of my letters. It was the most abusive I think I've ever been to myself.
The next morning, I woke with a dull and constant pain in my chest. I found it difficult to breathe. I let Craig know that it was okay for him to leave me because I was only bringing him down with me. I'm not sure what happened, but we were in the bathroom, and he turned to me and looked at me with his big brown understanding eyes. Suddenly I threw my arms around him and sobbed, and he held me up. He caressed my hair and held me so close that I could feel his heart. I poured out my heart to him, and he held me up. He guided me to our bed (neither of us slept there the night before), laid me down and curled up beside me. Neither of us knew exactly what we would do, but he made sure that I knew we'd work it out together. As we lay there, the phone rang and we let the answering machine pick it up. It was my best friend, calling to see what was going on and hoping we could talk soon. I started crying as I thought of all the love I was willing to give up on the night before. I told Craig what I'd done, and he was devastated. I think he partly blamed himself for not being there, but it wasn't his fault. He was doing what he needed to do for himself, and frankly, I didn't want him to feel like he had to cater to me anyway. I explained to him that what happened to me last night was something of a relapse. I don't manifest my disorder with overeating or starving myself. I talk. I speak the most vile things to myself, and in the darkest moment of that night, I imagined the little girl who was deserving of the belt beating she received from her father (the one she'd requested), and I hit her with every word. This was something I've been working on through my therapy, and that night I had a horrible relapse.
We spent the day together, working out what we need to do. Craig would step up to be a stronger lead (something he needs to do for himself), and I would need to trust him completely. He asked me if I could trust him completely to give myself over to him. I realized that it was the most difficult thing I could do, because the only people in my life that I'd ever trusted like that betrayed me. However, I need assistance because the way I've been doing things hasn't been working. Therapy has been a tremendous help in many ways. The fact that I can look at the evening and not beat myself up even more for such "silly and stupid" behavior is evidence. I don't recount the evening in order to gain some kind of attention or to spiral into more self-critical talk, but instead I can look at it more objectively and realize that I was simply acting in a way that was familiar and strangely comforting. But I need more help on a daily basis. I've not wanted to admit that for a long time, but I realize now just how necessary it is. I'm sure that much of my daily problems come from my ADD, and that the coping skills I created have actually caused more problems. Craig will help me learn successful skills, and in turn, I have to learn how to trust.
I've been trying to just "be" in these last 24 hours. I'm trying to be very kind to the little girl, and I'm asking for her forgiveness. I don't ever want to go back to that dark place again.
I knew that our financial situation was my fault. It's very difficult to say no to me- and I'd talked us into a wedding we couldn't afford, restaurants and small vacations, and other purchases that put us into a financial predicament that would be very difficult to fix. I'd failed at keeping the house as it should be kept, especially for a wife who didn't hold a job. All of these things were washing over Craig, and I knew he was feeling like he couldn't be with me anymore, and I didn't blame him. I cried over how irresponsible I've always been, and how I've managed to screw up another person's life along with my own. I looked back on my life with great disgust, and said horrible things to myself that I believed wholeheartedly. I was so tired of being here, so tired of not being able to do the very things I had to do. I was tired of talking about the work I would do, but unable to take the steps to get there. At my worst, I was deciding that it just wasn't worth it to be here anymore. I didn't care about the pain that my "disappearance" would cause others. I thought that eventually there would be some good that comes from the bad, as there always is. Some lesson that might be learned by those affected. I thought about driving to the ocean, and just not coming back. I thought about my unfinished business and how there should be things that I do first- letters written, things organized. I thought that maybe I should talk to someone about how I was feeling, but that would just be a cry for attention, and that ability of mine was something I was so disgusted with. No, if I was serious, I would go about my life without telling anyone about what I was planning. I cried that I would not experience the love of children, but I knew that my parenting skills would only serve to hurt instead of nurture. I got up to use the bathroom, and when I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize my reflection. The person looking back at me was distorted, like in a fun-house mirror. She didn't have my eyes- her eyes were gray and she despised me. I went back to my couch, and stayed there all night, making certain that what little hope I had inside was not allowed to creep forward. I planned, and I wrote one of my letters. It was the most abusive I think I've ever been to myself.
The next morning, I woke with a dull and constant pain in my chest. I found it difficult to breathe. I let Craig know that it was okay for him to leave me because I was only bringing him down with me. I'm not sure what happened, but we were in the bathroom, and he turned to me and looked at me with his big brown understanding eyes. Suddenly I threw my arms around him and sobbed, and he held me up. He caressed my hair and held me so close that I could feel his heart. I poured out my heart to him, and he held me up. He guided me to our bed (neither of us slept there the night before), laid me down and curled up beside me. Neither of us knew exactly what we would do, but he made sure that I knew we'd work it out together. As we lay there, the phone rang and we let the answering machine pick it up. It was my best friend, calling to see what was going on and hoping we could talk soon. I started crying as I thought of all the love I was willing to give up on the night before. I told Craig what I'd done, and he was devastated. I think he partly blamed himself for not being there, but it wasn't his fault. He was doing what he needed to do for himself, and frankly, I didn't want him to feel like he had to cater to me anyway. I explained to him that what happened to me last night was something of a relapse. I don't manifest my disorder with overeating or starving myself. I talk. I speak the most vile things to myself, and in the darkest moment of that night, I imagined the little girl who was deserving of the belt beating she received from her father (the one she'd requested), and I hit her with every word. This was something I've been working on through my therapy, and that night I had a horrible relapse.
We spent the day together, working out what we need to do. Craig would step up to be a stronger lead (something he needs to do for himself), and I would need to trust him completely. He asked me if I could trust him completely to give myself over to him. I realized that it was the most difficult thing I could do, because the only people in my life that I'd ever trusted like that betrayed me. However, I need assistance because the way I've been doing things hasn't been working. Therapy has been a tremendous help in many ways. The fact that I can look at the evening and not beat myself up even more for such "silly and stupid" behavior is evidence. I don't recount the evening in order to gain some kind of attention or to spiral into more self-critical talk, but instead I can look at it more objectively and realize that I was simply acting in a way that was familiar and strangely comforting. But I need more help on a daily basis. I've not wanted to admit that for a long time, but I realize now just how necessary it is. I'm sure that much of my daily problems come from my ADD, and that the coping skills I created have actually caused more problems. Craig will help me learn successful skills, and in turn, I have to learn how to trust.
I've been trying to just "be" in these last 24 hours. I'm trying to be very kind to the little girl, and I'm asking for her forgiveness. I don't ever want to go back to that dark place again.