Diana-M
Beloved Grand Eagle
True confessions—
So here’s what’s really been on my mind lately.
22 years ago, my marriage was still young and it was in dire trouble. I had been divorced before, and had been on my own for years with 3 small boys. It wasn’t easy and I dreaded a divorce again. Nonetheless, I was driving down the highway on my morning commute, planning my escape, ruminating on exactly how I could survive a second divorce, when BANG I get my first panic attack. Ever. I thought I was having a heart attack. This was the beginning of a two-year struggle with severe anxiety that I was eventually able to work my way out of.
Now, more than two decades later, my husband and I worked through all that and have been happy for a long time. Until: About a year and a half ago, he had blood work and was warned by his doctor that his liver was in jeopardy. She wanted him to immediately have it checked out. He refused and is still refusing. And my symptoms, which started during the pandemic, doubled.
It is a sore spot between us now, because he continues to eat poorly and drink (a more than reasonable amount of alcohol) as if nothing’s wrong. This makes me furious and sad and worried. I have journaled about it plenty. We have discussed it plenty. I talked to my therapist and even joined Al-anon (a support group for friends and families of drinkers). I’m not sure any of this has helped.
The other day I let my mind wander toward divorce. Just to experiment with the feeling; to not feel like such a sucker. I felt the rage rise. I have been so out of touch with any feelings like this for years. I even feel bold, and maybe even wrong, writing about it here.
I’m not sure what to make of all this. I’m not sure if he will die. If he will leave. If I’ll leave. Or if nothing like that will happen at all. We actually finish each other’s sentences. It’s almost impossible to imagine life without him. All I know, is the pot is stirred up. At least for me.
He is having a lot of problems with my symptoms and sometimes says he doesn’t know if he can “handle” things much longer. This doesn’t make me feel safe and secure. But meanwhile, I can’t walk very well, so I stuff the rejection, anger and pain that this causes me. He’s also a pretty dramatic person, and to some extent, I know he’s just venting. (Or at least I think he is.) It doesn’t help that my father left my mother when she became very sick with MS. (I know!!!)
Meanwhile, I like that we’ve built what I’d call a stable family with my grown sons. We love our grandkids and they adore my husband. He’s like Santa Clause to them. My sons have adopted my husband and he has adopted them. The thought of us breaking our lives apart seems unconscionable.
I see the world so differently having had TMS for the last couple years and the last 8 months not walking well. I’m stronger in so many ways. And weaker physically. Is my TMS causing me to stay, just like my panic did all those years ago? I worry constantly about survival. (Yes! I know this is Bad!)
I’m not sure where this post is going or what kind of advice I’m looking for. I guess any thoughts you might have would be interesting to me. Have you had similar experiences? Do you have any advice?
I’m currently looking for a new therapist to guide me over this terrain because I recently lost my other one.
I have so many layers to uncover to get to a totally honest place. But, with your help, I’m getting somewhere! Something about being vulnerable here and posting it to the forum is digging me out. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you!
So here’s what’s really been on my mind lately.
22 years ago, my marriage was still young and it was in dire trouble. I had been divorced before, and had been on my own for years with 3 small boys. It wasn’t easy and I dreaded a divorce again. Nonetheless, I was driving down the highway on my morning commute, planning my escape, ruminating on exactly how I could survive a second divorce, when BANG I get my first panic attack. Ever. I thought I was having a heart attack. This was the beginning of a two-year struggle with severe anxiety that I was eventually able to work my way out of.
Now, more than two decades later, my husband and I worked through all that and have been happy for a long time. Until: About a year and a half ago, he had blood work and was warned by his doctor that his liver was in jeopardy. She wanted him to immediately have it checked out. He refused and is still refusing. And my symptoms, which started during the pandemic, doubled.
It is a sore spot between us now, because he continues to eat poorly and drink (a more than reasonable amount of alcohol) as if nothing’s wrong. This makes me furious and sad and worried. I have journaled about it plenty. We have discussed it plenty. I talked to my therapist and even joined Al-anon (a support group for friends and families of drinkers). I’m not sure any of this has helped.
The other day I let my mind wander toward divorce. Just to experiment with the feeling; to not feel like such a sucker. I felt the rage rise. I have been so out of touch with any feelings like this for years. I even feel bold, and maybe even wrong, writing about it here.
I’m not sure what to make of all this. I’m not sure if he will die. If he will leave. If I’ll leave. Or if nothing like that will happen at all. We actually finish each other’s sentences. It’s almost impossible to imagine life without him. All I know, is the pot is stirred up. At least for me.
He is having a lot of problems with my symptoms and sometimes says he doesn’t know if he can “handle” things much longer. This doesn’t make me feel safe and secure. But meanwhile, I can’t walk very well, so I stuff the rejection, anger and pain that this causes me. He’s also a pretty dramatic person, and to some extent, I know he’s just venting. (Or at least I think he is.) It doesn’t help that my father left my mother when she became very sick with MS. (I know!!!)
Meanwhile, I like that we’ve built what I’d call a stable family with my grown sons. We love our grandkids and they adore my husband. He’s like Santa Clause to them. My sons have adopted my husband and he has adopted them. The thought of us breaking our lives apart seems unconscionable.
I see the world so differently having had TMS for the last couple years and the last 8 months not walking well. I’m stronger in so many ways. And weaker physically. Is my TMS causing me to stay, just like my panic did all those years ago? I worry constantly about survival. (Yes! I know this is Bad!)
I’m not sure where this post is going or what kind of advice I’m looking for. I guess any thoughts you might have would be interesting to me. Have you had similar experiences? Do you have any advice?
I’m currently looking for a new therapist to guide me over this terrain because I recently lost my other one.
I have so many layers to uncover to get to a totally honest place. But, with your help, I’m getting somewhere! Something about being vulnerable here and posting it to the forum is digging me out. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you!
Last edited: