Happy F'ing Birthday
We've been talking about going camping for years, and just never found the time. We finally decided to do it this year for my birthday. A long weekend in the woods with our tent and a few necessities (food, camp stove, books/magazines, lots to drink, but no alcohol) sounded like paradise. We visited a campground nearby, scouted out the sites and picked one right next to a little waterfall in the woods. We had another 3 weeks to get everything packed and ready, and I was chomping at the bit - this was gonna be a great weekend. Well, that's what I get for getting my hopes up.
She had been doing so good for the past few weeks. I could see the old her in there, making a comeback. We had really started to get back to what felt like normal. Her Ativan use was way down, she seemed happy and confident. Two days before we were due to leave, I even wrote her an e-mail from work, telling her how much progress I felt she had made, and how proud I was that she was hanging in there. In hindsight, it's hard not to imagine that that e-mail was a very, very bad idea. (This was the day before the incident I wrote about in "Emotional non-rescue")
The very next day was my birthday, the day we leave for camping, and also the day we have our monthly co-session with H. I go in thinking things are pretty good (she seemed a little nervous, but that's normal). We sit down and she grabs one of H's little stuffed toys and hugs it to her chest. "Uh oh, that's not a good sign," I think to myself. H starts off wishing me a happy birthday, asking how things are at work, etc. I give her some short answers, waiting to get to the real issues. We finally start talking about what had happened yesterday, and the floodgates open. She's still deeply bothered by what had happened at work and is thinking about quitting. This has hurt her so deeply, it's all the same issues and emotions she was struggling with almost a year ago. Sitting there, I feel like all the progress she's made was just washed down the drain; all I can see is the person that felt so worthless she tried to kill herself.
We talked with H about all that has happened, and she assured us both that these down periods should be expected, this wasn't going to heal overnight. We tried to end on an up note. She asked H if she should quit when she got back on Monday; H said "I don't think you have enough information to make that kind of decision right now, so I don't want you think about work at all this weekend. I want you to put it all aside, go camping, have a great weekend celebrating your husband's birthday." She seemed to be relieved in a way, on put on a good show of being upbeat, positive.
I was not. I felt like I had just gotten sucker-punched. Here I was thinking things were going well, and even praising her for it, thinking the incident yesterday was just an anomaly, only to find that I had deluded my self again. Seems I just keep ignoring the truth of what's in front of me and seeing good where there is none. I want so badly for things to be better, I take the smallest sign of improvement as "The Sign" that's everything's back to Normal. When am I gonna stop kidding myself?
We leave the office and start driving to the campsite. We stop on the way for sandwiches to bring, and there's a really annoying, rude woman in the store, getting on my nerves. I can feel myself just getting really bitter about everything. We're about a half-hour out of town when I realize we're on the wrong stinkin' highway. We turn around and have to drive all the way back into town to get on the right one. I'm definitely not in my happy place. The sky clouds over and starts looking ominous. The closer we get to the campsite, the darker the skies get. We're about 10 miles out and I'm looking at thunderheads right over out campsite. It starts to drizzle, then rain, then pour down. We get off the highway onto the county road that leads to the campgrounds, and now there's literally tree limbs scattered across the road. This is a helluva storm, and we're driving right into the middle of it. Man, this is gonna be a fantastic, camping trip, ain't it? By now I'm miserable.
We pull up to the office and check in. No sense getting firewood, we couldn't light it anyway. We give our name, and he checks for our reservation. Yep, right here, site 37. We drive out to the site, and lo-and-behold, it's not the one we had reserved. No waterfall, no lakeside view, sitting on a muddy downhill slope. Now I'm getting po'd. Miserable is being replaced by angry, and I don't like me when I'm angry. We go back to the office and get the right campsite, drive back out and sit in the truck, waiting for the rain to stop so we can set up the tent. The rain finally recedes into a heavy drizzle, so we figured what the heck, let's set up the tent. We're both soaked by the time we're done, but at least its up. We eat the sandwiches and sit outside, admiring the fire from the next campsite over. My mood is starting to let up a little. I had saved a special cigar from a few weeks before, and that was going to be my special celebration cigar. I fire it up, and we decide to go for stroll in the woods. The cigar is a good one, the skies are clearing more, and its actually getting pretty nice. I'm feeling much better. We get back to camp, and sit in the lawn chairs. Its fully dark now, and the fire across the way is going strong. She decides to try getting our own fire going, and has a nice little blaze going in a few minutes. The camp across the way has a radio on, playing some country songs we both like. I toss the cigar butt into the fire, lay my head back, and enjoy the buzz I've got from it (it was a 7" Honduran, so I had been smoking it for well over an hour). The fire's going, the weather's cleared, some nice music playing...We talk quietly about small things, enjoying each others company. The sound of her voice...feminine, happy, gentle...relaxes me like nothing else can. OK, so this is gonna be an OK weekend after all.
But now, the cigar buzz starts to turn into dizziness, and not the fun kind you used to get as kid by spinning in circles. This is "stop the ride, I wanna get off" dizzy. I close my eyes, but that only makes it worse. Dizziness invites his good buddy Nausea over for a visit, and before too long, peaceful and relaxed has given way to cold-sweat and stomach cramps. I can barely crawl my way to the tent, and end up in a ball on the floor, fully dressed, passed out, and miserable.
That night I have another of the nightmares. In this one, we're driving somewhere. We're approaching a big bridge, like the Ben Franklin in Philly. We stop at the base of the bridge to pick up my younger sister, J. Its strange, J being there, but I stop and get out of the car. My wife slides into the driver seat, locks all the doors and takes off. I realize what she's about to do. I start running after the car, screaming at her to stop. She speeding up, trying to get to the high point of the bridge as fast as she can. I keep running, but she's pulling away, and over my own screaming, I can hear her laughing. She's going to win this time, there's no way I'll be able to stop her. She gets to the apex and pulls the wheel hard, heading for the rail. And still laughing. I bolt awake, stifling a scream. Its about 2am, my hearts pounding, I'm panting for breath, and my stomach is still twisted from the cigar. Yeah, this has been one happy f'ing birthday indeed. I lay there another 2 hours or so, feeling supremely sorry for myself, before I finally get back to sleep.
The next morning, we're sitting at the picnic table for breakfast. She gets up to take some pictures of the waterfall, about 20 feet away. I start thinking about the day before, and the dream, and everything we've been through, and it all catches up to me. Before I know it, I feel the tears start to come. She comes back to the table, and I try to turn my head, hoping she won't notice her little sissy-man of a husband, crying in his Rice Crispies (but part of me was hoping she would notice). It takes some coaxing from her, but eventually she gets me talking, and it all comes spilling out, the frustration, the anger, the hopelessness, the doubt, everything that's been building. She's understanding, apologizing over and over for putting us through this, swearing she's turned the corner. She says at one point, "I know I have to get better. I want to get better." To me, that's huge. "Have" to get better means she's doing it for me, for her family, for others. "Want" to get better means she's doing it for herself. She's tired of being sick. Hearing this from her makes a huge difference in my attitude.
That day, Friday, there was lots of rain, on and off. In the tent, out of the tent, back in the tent, etc. We ended up sleeping through the 3 sunniest hours of the day, coming out of the tent with just enough time to warm up some chili and rice then back into the tent to wait out the next squall. Saturday proved better, mostly sunny, just a few sprinkles. We walked a lot and talked even more. It was a good day. By Sunday, we were both read to get back home. We packed up and headed out by noon. I though about how much I had looked forward to the trip, how immensely discouraged I was the day we started, how I had kinda bottomed out the second day, then how things improved the next two. Overall, for as low as I was at one point, I still ended up having a pretty good time.
I made a mental note to remember this weekend, as a lesson. Even when things are miserable, and it feels like there's no hope, the sun eventually does come out. All you have to do is have the strength, and the patience, to wait for it.
She had been doing so good for the past few weeks. I could see the old her in there, making a comeback. We had really started to get back to what felt like normal. Her Ativan use was way down, she seemed happy and confident. Two days before we were due to leave, I even wrote her an e-mail from work, telling her how much progress I felt she had made, and how proud I was that she was hanging in there. In hindsight, it's hard not to imagine that that e-mail was a very, very bad idea. (This was the day before the incident I wrote about in "Emotional non-rescue")
The very next day was my birthday, the day we leave for camping, and also the day we have our monthly co-session with H. I go in thinking things are pretty good (she seemed a little nervous, but that's normal). We sit down and she grabs one of H's little stuffed toys and hugs it to her chest. "Uh oh, that's not a good sign," I think to myself. H starts off wishing me a happy birthday, asking how things are at work, etc. I give her some short answers, waiting to get to the real issues. We finally start talking about what had happened yesterday, and the floodgates open. She's still deeply bothered by what had happened at work and is thinking about quitting. This has hurt her so deeply, it's all the same issues and emotions she was struggling with almost a year ago. Sitting there, I feel like all the progress she's made was just washed down the drain; all I can see is the person that felt so worthless she tried to kill herself.
We talked with H about all that has happened, and she assured us both that these down periods should be expected, this wasn't going to heal overnight. We tried to end on an up note. She asked H if she should quit when she got back on Monday; H said "I don't think you have enough information to make that kind of decision right now, so I don't want you think about work at all this weekend. I want you to put it all aside, go camping, have a great weekend celebrating your husband's birthday." She seemed to be relieved in a way, on put on a good show of being upbeat, positive.
I was not. I felt like I had just gotten sucker-punched. Here I was thinking things were going well, and even praising her for it, thinking the incident yesterday was just an anomaly, only to find that I had deluded my self again. Seems I just keep ignoring the truth of what's in front of me and seeing good where there is none. I want so badly for things to be better, I take the smallest sign of improvement as "The Sign" that's everything's back to Normal. When am I gonna stop kidding myself?
We leave the office and start driving to the campsite. We stop on the way for sandwiches to bring, and there's a really annoying, rude woman in the store, getting on my nerves. I can feel myself just getting really bitter about everything. We're about a half-hour out of town when I realize we're on the wrong stinkin' highway. We turn around and have to drive all the way back into town to get on the right one. I'm definitely not in my happy place. The sky clouds over and starts looking ominous. The closer we get to the campsite, the darker the skies get. We're about 10 miles out and I'm looking at thunderheads right over out campsite. It starts to drizzle, then rain, then pour down. We get off the highway onto the county road that leads to the campgrounds, and now there's literally tree limbs scattered across the road. This is a helluva storm, and we're driving right into the middle of it. Man, this is gonna be a fantastic, camping trip, ain't it? By now I'm miserable.
We pull up to the office and check in. No sense getting firewood, we couldn't light it anyway. We give our name, and he checks for our reservation. Yep, right here, site 37. We drive out to the site, and lo-and-behold, it's not the one we had reserved. No waterfall, no lakeside view, sitting on a muddy downhill slope. Now I'm getting po'd. Miserable is being replaced by angry, and I don't like me when I'm angry. We go back to the office and get the right campsite, drive back out and sit in the truck, waiting for the rain to stop so we can set up the tent. The rain finally recedes into a heavy drizzle, so we figured what the heck, let's set up the tent. We're both soaked by the time we're done, but at least its up. We eat the sandwiches and sit outside, admiring the fire from the next campsite over. My mood is starting to let up a little. I had saved a special cigar from a few weeks before, and that was going to be my special celebration cigar. I fire it up, and we decide to go for stroll in the woods. The cigar is a good one, the skies are clearing more, and its actually getting pretty nice. I'm feeling much better. We get back to camp, and sit in the lawn chairs. Its fully dark now, and the fire across the way is going strong. She decides to try getting our own fire going, and has a nice little blaze going in a few minutes. The camp across the way has a radio on, playing some country songs we both like. I toss the cigar butt into the fire, lay my head back, and enjoy the buzz I've got from it (it was a 7" Honduran, so I had been smoking it for well over an hour). The fire's going, the weather's cleared, some nice music playing...We talk quietly about small things, enjoying each others company. The sound of her voice...feminine, happy, gentle...relaxes me like nothing else can. OK, so this is gonna be an OK weekend after all.
But now, the cigar buzz starts to turn into dizziness, and not the fun kind you used to get as kid by spinning in circles. This is "stop the ride, I wanna get off" dizzy. I close my eyes, but that only makes it worse. Dizziness invites his good buddy Nausea over for a visit, and before too long, peaceful and relaxed has given way to cold-sweat and stomach cramps. I can barely crawl my way to the tent, and end up in a ball on the floor, fully dressed, passed out, and miserable.
That night I have another of the nightmares. In this one, we're driving somewhere. We're approaching a big bridge, like the Ben Franklin in Philly. We stop at the base of the bridge to pick up my younger sister, J. Its strange, J being there, but I stop and get out of the car. My wife slides into the driver seat, locks all the doors and takes off. I realize what she's about to do. I start running after the car, screaming at her to stop. She speeding up, trying to get to the high point of the bridge as fast as she can. I keep running, but she's pulling away, and over my own screaming, I can hear her laughing. She's going to win this time, there's no way I'll be able to stop her. She gets to the apex and pulls the wheel hard, heading for the rail. And still laughing. I bolt awake, stifling a scream. Its about 2am, my hearts pounding, I'm panting for breath, and my stomach is still twisted from the cigar. Yeah, this has been one happy f'ing birthday indeed. I lay there another 2 hours or so, feeling supremely sorry for myself, before I finally get back to sleep.
The next morning, we're sitting at the picnic table for breakfast. She gets up to take some pictures of the waterfall, about 20 feet away. I start thinking about the day before, and the dream, and everything we've been through, and it all catches up to me. Before I know it, I feel the tears start to come. She comes back to the table, and I try to turn my head, hoping she won't notice her little sissy-man of a husband, crying in his Rice Crispies (but part of me was hoping she would notice). It takes some coaxing from her, but eventually she gets me talking, and it all comes spilling out, the frustration, the anger, the hopelessness, the doubt, everything that's been building. She's understanding, apologizing over and over for putting us through this, swearing she's turned the corner. She says at one point, "I know I have to get better. I want to get better." To me, that's huge. "Have" to get better means she's doing it for me, for her family, for others. "Want" to get better means she's doing it for herself. She's tired of being sick. Hearing this from her makes a huge difference in my attitude.
That day, Friday, there was lots of rain, on and off. In the tent, out of the tent, back in the tent, etc. We ended up sleeping through the 3 sunniest hours of the day, coming out of the tent with just enough time to warm up some chili and rice then back into the tent to wait out the next squall. Saturday proved better, mostly sunny, just a few sprinkles. We walked a lot and talked even more. It was a good day. By Sunday, we were both read to get back home. We packed up and headed out by noon. I though about how much I had looked forward to the trip, how immensely discouraged I was the day we started, how I had kinda bottomed out the second day, then how things improved the next two. Overall, for as low as I was at one point, I still ended up having a pretty good time.
I made a mental note to remember this weekend, as a lesson. Even when things are miserable, and it feels like there's no hope, the sun eventually does come out. All you have to do is have the strength, and the patience, to wait for it.
posted by me at 8:15 AM
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