My husband said something to me yesterday evening which I found highly amusing. I had just made quite a mess eating some pistachio nuts, and a few bits were scattered on the floor. Neil turned to me in horror and said "Hey I hoovered earlier"! Now that may not sound funny to you but it was both hilarious and poignant to me. On the one hand it showed me that he could be on the way back to being his normal self, but on the other hand it reminded me that he was out of work and doing one of the household jobs that I've always done. We've always shared housework as we both have outside jobs, but as my job is part time and he was full time, I tended to do the majority. I did the hoovering.
Our lives have changed rather dramatically in the last couple of months, and looks to carry on that way.
I've been signed off work quite some years ago with anxiety and so I thought I would be able to help Neil through his, but it doesn't always happen that way. My anxiety was alien to me. I couldn't stop crying, and would cry at the drop of a hat, and for no reason that I could see. I really couldn't stop. I'd feel my lip quiver and that was it, away I went. Neil was at a loss, and he tried so hard to help me by telling me he was there if I wanted to talk, and he would hold me as I cried. Nothing seemed to help, and when it impacted on my work I knew I needed to go to the doctor. I went by myself, I got signed off work and offered counselling and medication, both of which I accepted. During the three weeks I was off work the weather was gorgeous so I got myself in to a routine. I would make sure the house was tidy first, sort out the cats and prepare dinner for the evening. I would then walk the five minutes down the road to our local shop and buy the daily paper and one bread roll. This made me get out of the house and also talk to another person, even if it was just a hello. I would then spend the day reading, while sitting on our swing seat in the garden in the sun. It was calming and allowed me to totally forget anything I was worried about, subconsciously or consciously. I was fortunate to get counselling very quickly and it did take an effort to get on a bus and go to the doctor's surgery for it, but I did. I spent the first session crying the whole time, but over the next few times I was able to talk things out. There never was a definitive answer as to why I cried all the time. Maybe it was just that I had felt overwhelmed at always being the person 'there for everyone', and always being the 'doer' at work and home. I'd always smile, and always look like I was coping, but inside I was obviously crashing big time. I just didn't know it.
I remember Neil once saying to me "you're so lucky, you're so confident". Sometimes apparent confidence hides a multitude of insecurities. What you appear like on the outside is often nothing like you are feeling on the inside, and many apparently confident outgoing people will testify to that fact. I tried to explain this to Neil, but even today, I am not sure he really 'gets it'.
I was able to have a phased return to work after three weeks and that helped me to move onward with my anxiety. I still get 'moments' where I will cry, but they are far fewer, and it's taken a number of years to get where I am today. I do feel being diagnosed with an underactive thyroid, and later with rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia, helped me to understand there may have been the addition of an underlying cause to how I felt, too. I had thought my experience would enable me to support Neil but I am actually struggling to help him. I've realised that every persons anxiety is different and unique to them. What's worse is that I am going through a range of emotions myself, from worry, to fear, to helplessness, to anger and back again, in a constant whirlwind. It's been a rude awakening to find that I may not be able to help him. Only he can help himself.
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