What is Happening?

             “Never waste a good crisis.” Dr. Paul Fitzgerald

Have you ever driven somewhere and forgotten how you got there or just sat and stared and wondered “How long have I been here?” That was the kind of feeling that came over me about a half mile from our house. I was on our regular walking path, but I didn’t remember how I got there. I do remember what I was muttering to myself, “I just can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it.” Everything else seemed like a dream or memory that never really happened. 

I don’t know what I looked like and I really didn’t care. I could feel my heart beating through my chest. My head was spinning in that kind of way that thoughts don’t really run together or form coherent streams. The sensation I had was that my thoughts and imaginations were crashing into each other. Everything seemed like I was in a war. It was after a complete lap around the track that I heard the buzz of a text message.

When I saw Laura’s text, it resonated as something she would normally say, but it didn’t stop me from reacting. I was in full defense mode and my senses were on high alert. When she asked, “Are you okay?” I responded quickly and harshly like a small animal caught in a trap. I wasn’t okay. I was about the furthest thing from being okay, and unfortunately my mind believed that it was her fault. I said, “I feel like you are abusing me.” It felt good to say because it was how I felt. 

I often wonder if people at war feel things like this. Do they pause in the middle of battle and think, “Wait, what am I doing here?” My partner of 29 years was on the other side of the battle, and to make it worse, her sister was visiting. In my mind, I was sure she was in on it. “She doesn’t want us to be happy” is just one of the wild assumptions I made in the heat of the conflict. War requires you to be suspicious of everyone. 

Her almost immediate response to my unusual accusation was, “Then why do you stay with me?” Soon after, I went into a tailspin and I don’t remember anything I said after that. I’m not sure how long I walked or even physically coming back in the house.  I was angry and confused, but mostly what I experienced was pain.  

The pain that I felt that day was the deepest anguish I have ever felt in my life. It was the culmination of everything I have ever subdued in my psyche coming to the surface at one time. At least, that was my experience. But the path it took was not through normal channels. It went directly through my heart. I have never had a heart event like my father and grandfather, but this was what I imagine one would be like. My heart ached in ways I would have never thought possible. The dam was breaking, and I was like a little boy trying to plug the holes. The pressure was too great, and I finally passed out from exhaustion. My body literally couldn’t take it anymore.

I woke up some time later that night when Laura asked me if I wanted to talk. I was coherent enough to know this may be the end of my marriage, so I spoke carefully. Digging deeper would come later, but neither one of us had the energy for that. It would be some time later before the defenses came down, but at least we were talking across the wall.

I had a lot of work to do and it wasn’t going to be fun or easy and it didn’t have six easy steps. I was about to begin a journey that I didn’t want to go on. My mind frantically searched for an easy answer or quick fix and came up empty. 

I fell back asleep sometime later.   I slept hard, but this night’s rest didn’t resolve anything for me. My body physically felt like it did when we had two-a-day practices in football. I was rested but was physically sore even though I had done little physically to feel that way. This was too big to shove back inside. I was going to have to deal with it and I had no idea how.