For better or for worse

The last few days have been a mix of good and bad.

 I've had several job interviews. Two for a job that scares the shit outta me but pays well. One for a job that I could do blindfolded, but doesn't pay enough. Why does the good paying job scare me? For lots of reasons. Mainly because it is sales, and my anxiety is killer when it comes to meeting new people and deadlines. Also because it would require me to learn a whole new set of skills- phones, computers, products, sales techniques. All of that terrifies me. 

Am I good enough? If I take the job and fail...then what? But it would come close to making half of what my husband currently makes. It's also a lot of hours. Potentially 50 hrs a week....that is too much time away from my babies. So here I am...caught between a rock and a hard place. Do I push past personal fears, and open the door to new possibilities? Or do I give into the fears, and close the door on what could be a life changing possibility? Sounds like a simple decision to any sane person...but for me...someone who has had nearly a decade of living with, and giving in to, irrational fears....well this is one decision I'd rather not even make. But I have to make it...and that is what makes me want to run....run run run....far away from here to somewhere where someone can take care of me forever. Even that isn't a realistic or mature thought. So I  run every morning, and then get down to the business of trying to make this work. 

Leaving vs staying. 

A few friends have insisted I leave my husband and go home...back to family. This is not the first time. He hasn't been a great husband or father in quite some time. Did I know that when I married him almost a decade ago, yes. Did I and do I make excuses for it, yes. Should I? I really don't know. I haven't been the perfect wife either....does he make excuses for it? Maybe. I really don't know what he says about me. I haven't made up my mind either way...to leave or to stay. I'm taking one day at a time. For now anyway, staying is the better option, especially for my kids. It makes more sense financially as well. It is a hell of a lot easier for the two of us to support one household than it is for two of us to support two households. Maybe in ten years I will leave him, but for now, I'm staying and fighting beside him.

St Johns Wort, 

it helps with the depression end of things, but there doesn't seem to be any relief from the anxiety. Maybe there never will be. I am not a fan of medicine. I've been put on 7 different ones over the last eight years, and none of them have helped. Most make me worse. So I run every morning and try to keep busy. Getting up at 5 am and going almost non stop til 11 pm. Is that healthy? Is that sustainable? I really don't know, but it keeps me from completely breaking down. Keeps me functioning, for my kids sake anyway. 

My kids.

I am a stressed out mess and yet they still expect the same as they have always gotten. Same money, same attention, same love. My 10 yr old has always gotten pretty much whatever he wanted. A new toy every pay day. Clothes, shoes, eating out. It is insanely difficult to explain these changes to him without scaring him. After having explained to him what was all going on...dad losing his job, me going back to work, having less money...he still bugged me for this $30 toy for two weeks. I kept telling him that I wasn't sure when he'd get it. Maybe Christmas, but it just wasn't sinking in. He kept asking. Finally, I snapped. He was mad he couldn't have it. And I couldn't take one more ounce of pressure. I said to him "I don't know if we are gonna have money to eat with next month, so no, I do not have $30 to spend on a stupid toy!" I instantly felt horrible; about having yelled at him, about not being able to give him what he wanted.

Trust me, there is life after the air force.

I'm fighting a battle on two fronts. Anxiety and depression. One attacks, and then the other, in rapid fire secession. 

How is that fair?

How am I supposed to fight that? 

Mornings are really hard.

I've been going for a long walk or a quick run almost immediately after waking up, and even then the muscles in my stomach don't loosen.

I haven't had any coffee in over a week. 

After the guys leave for school and work, it's just me and baby girl....that's when my mind takes off. That's when I end up either frozen on the couch or puking...sometimes both, in a cycle. 

The other morning, I didn't think I could take another second being alone. 

So I called my father. He was in the Air Force until retirement, and has since gone on to do other things. While we haven't been close in over a decade, I know I can count on him to be a voice of reason and put things to me logically. 

After he expressed his shock and disappointment, I was in tears. Realizing he hadn't made me feel any better, he said to me, "It'll be ok, you guys will make it. You're a tough girl and you'll do just fine."

"Really??" I asked.

At this point, I was blinded by grief and a slave to my insecurity. I couldn't comprehend how we were going to survive without the security the air force offered. 

He said, "oh yeah...it's gonna be hard for a while. But trust me, there is life after the air force."

We're still alive, we'll manage somehow

This week has been better, physically. I havent thrown up at all this week! (Never thought I'd need to say that!) Mentally, im still somewhat of a mess. I only had two episodes of breaking down and sobbing. I've had two job interviews, both went well and have boosted my confidence enough to go on more interviews. Im still dreading actually working, and leaving my children. I still have doubts and fears about successfully learning and performing a job.
I've been given so much emotional support from my friends, therapist, and family. They have said so many meaningful and uplifting things, I cannot recall them all. I also found out who my real friends are....the ones who ask how I am doing and genuinely mean it, they aren't just looking for gossip. The ones that still talk to me, not knowing or caring what my husband did to get us in this spot, they still care about me and the kids.
I've tried to put thoughts of the future to the side. All I can do is handle each day as it comes. I have to remind myself almost constantly that God has a good and perfect plan for me. I have to have patience and trust, and be brave enough to take advantage of the opportunities He presents to me. I have seen Him come through in little ways for me as well. An unexpected hug from a dear friend, a free soda from a waitress, someone offering cloth diapers in exchange for my daughter's old clothes. "The Lord provides" has become a mantra that brings me peace in my lowest moments. Some mornings I wake up with that awful sinking feeling in my stomach and I go for a run....immediately! That seems to help me burn off the nervous energy that makes me sick. Even if I just run around the block once, it helps.
I'm trying to see this as a blessing, as hard as that is. See, my life was wonderful, yet I still obsessed over my smallest imperfections or over what could go wrong, that I made myself unhappy- my circle getting smaller and smaller. Retreating farther and farther into my home. My therapist seems to think this is one of the best things that could happen to me. Yes, it sucks, but I probably wouldn't have ever gotten back into the world without this push. I would never know what I was actually capable of because I would still be sitting at home saying "I can't".  How is it that everyone else thinks I have all this potential? That I am smart and like-able? I suppose it follows the same rules as body dismorphism. No matter how much weight I lost, I always thought I could lose more. I got down to 125 lbs four yrs ago and still felt like I needed to lose more. Is that how I see myself in general? No matter how smart and successful I am, will I still see myself as dumb and unworthy? My husband calls this insecurity, he says it will go away once I get back into the world. But, as always, I have my doubts.

Make it stop

The first week was hard. Oh so hard. 

It's even harder to name the hardest part. 

My anxiety. Anxiety has me in a firm grip. I can't help it. Can't shake it. I rotate between freezing up- sitting or laying down and hardly a thought, i want to sleep but can't- crying, and throwing up. By 3 pm, I am almost normal. By 5 pm I feel confident in my abilities and the power of God, I feel on top of it all and don't understand why I was so upset that morning. It is a confusing and difficult place to be. Mornings are the hardest. Each day I wake up with my stomach in a hard ball. It's hard to breathe. It was 6 days before I quit throwing up each morning. I still can't eat until at least 1pm. I've seen my therapist each night just to feel like I can go on. 

The loss of a community I feel so strongly bonded to. 

Facing the loss of a stable income. 

Facing the loss of a lifestyle. 

Trying to find a job that pays well when I have few skills. I haven't worked in 5 yrs. Even when I did work, it was just in a grocery store. 

Trying to decide which job I should shoot for, which would be a good match for me, and still allow me to be a mother.

 Leaving my children will be hard. It kills me to even think about it. I have enjoyed and loved raising my children and that was my life plan....to raise my children. The Lord tells me this is my most important job.

How will I balance taking care of home, family, and trying to build a career? Is it even possible? 

The kids....thinking of them and the sacrifices they will have to make. Its unbearable!

My daughter....my beautiful daughter....all she knows is momma taking care of her, all day, every day. I rarely leave her with a good friend. 

And my son....he has become so used to mom being here to help with homework and make dinner.   

It's also hard to say how I feel about my husband. I love him, and I'm so freaking mad at him! I want to slap him and I want to hug him. This is eating him up too. He didn't have to say it, I can tell by looking at him. His confidence is shaken and I am barely hanging on to sanity. He can't stand to see me cry, and I can't vent to him because he doesn't understand. He hasn't lived with the daily struggle I do. I was barely holding things together before this. 

My previous worries and struggles feel unfounded now. I feel completely out of control. My body and my mind do whatever they want, despite my attempts at deep breathing, exercising, and tapping. The tools I've learned to cope with mild anxiety aren't enough to get me through this disaster. I try to talk myself down, tell myself I need to be strong for my children, but I feel so weak....so very weak. We had so much security, and now it's all gone. He says we have freedom now. Freedom to rise higher and do what we love, but all I see is the danger of failure.

Grounded

My biggest weakness, Anxiety.
Especially after the birth of our second child. Social and general anxiety took over my life.
I was petrified of meeting new people and going new places.
I constantly worried about what people thought of me.
I berated and belittled myself for the smallest short coming.
A simple get together with new spouses would send me into a panic, complete with trips to the bathroom and cold sweats.
Going to the gym was something I had to make myself do.
Date nights with my husband became a challenge...I had to fight not to faint if we went to a crowded restaurant.
I couldn't do anything with anyone unless I had at least a day's notice and even then, my stomach may decide to back out at the last minute.
If my husband wanted to be spontaneous, it would immediately be met by a screaming fight from me, full of empty reasons why we couldn't go.

Anxiety was ruining my marriage, and my body.
I began to have headaches and strange, vivid dreams, as well as involuntary jaw clenching in my sleep. My stomach was always upset.
I finally decided to seek help when my daughter was 5 months old. We were supposed to go on leave to see family, a happy occasion, but I was a mess. I looked like a deer in head lights and I couldn't think straight enough to pack.
I saw my doctor on base. She gave me a script and an appt with mental health when we got back from vacation. Awesome. Now I was too scared to try the medicine! Take some unknown pill the day before a 19 hr car trip with our two children??? I couldn't chance side effects. So I waited, and tried to hold myself together until we got home.
At mental health, I talked with a nice old man. Of course it was just a slew of pills in this dose and that dose. I took them, but every one of them made me unable to take care of my children for one reason or another. I had to rely on friends and neighbors to help me get through the day.
When I told the nice old man that I couldn't take any more pills, he told me he couldn't help me! What kind of doctor says that?! I felt hopeless! Doomed!
So back to my regular doctor I went. I told her I needed someone else to help me, cause that guy wasn't cutting it. She gave me a referral, and I picked a random name from a list. Fingers crossed! The name I picked turned out to be a somewhat eccentric, middle aged woman who didnt believe in writing useless scripts! Fate! I loved her.
She helped me understand the how and why of my anxiety. She put words to what I couldnt begin to describe. She taught me deep breathing, tapping, and we talked every week. Things were ok. My anxiety was still there, but she encouraged me to keep getting out there....that was the only way to overcome it. Force myself to go into the world and eventually it would get easier. Did it? Not really...but I wasn't sitting at home...grounded by fear.

The Bomb

Three years into our Texas tour and I'd finally hit my stride. I had discovered my strengths and weaknesses. I had made amazing friends. I started selling my gifts of crochet. I found solace and knowledge in the words of God. I began homeschooling my son under the guidance of another amazing military spouse. I had knowledge of military life and the local area. I was able to share it with new spouses. I finally felt like I knew what I was doing! I finally felt like a good mom! 

One Friday, just as I had come home from another great playgroup, my husband arrived home for what I thought was lunch. I greeted him with a smile, but it wasn't returned. I asked "Whats up?" He said, "I'm in trouble. Big trouble." My heart sunk..."what kind of trouble?" "I'm probably done in the air force. I don't expect to stay in." All I could say was no no no no. I started crying and he teared up. And I couldn't look at him. I couldn't believe he'd done this to us. To our kids. After how hard we had fought to keep his job, he'd fucked it all up. 

Im not stupid....I wasn't about to get my hopes up...in fact, they fell.....down down down. All the plans we had for the near and distant future....gone. I walked around like a crying zombie the rest of the day. Tried to take care of the kids as best I could...trying to not let them see me cry. Of course my son new something was wrong, but all I could say to him was that I didn't feel well and to do his school work.

My mind went in all kinds of directions. Would we sell the house? I'd have to go back to work. The most prevalent thoughts, What were we going to do? What were we going to tell our families?

After an eternity, he finally came home for the day. That evening was a blur, but it was full of crying and him trying to reassure me we would be ok.