Lose Yourself

There are a few people close to me that are going through some shit right now. Not that they're not strong (something I hated hearing about myself when I was going through my stuff) but I still wish I could make it easier or somehow allay some of the pain or carry some of their heavy burdens on my broad shoulders. I feel their pain. I keep offering myself up but there is only so much in my power.

One of them is suffering from General Anxiety Disorder. She doesn't want to take drugs for it. I respect her decision. She jokes that I am advocating her trying the drugs because I want to make my life easier so I don't have to deal with the manifestations of her anxiety that often get displaced on to me, and all of us that are close to her. That isn't the case. I just want her life to be easier. I welcome her venting and taking out on me whatever she wants to take out on me. If venting helps her even an iota, I am am down with it. Bring it on. Again, my shoulders are broad. I can handle it.

I just think the drugs might help her. The anxiety is so paralyzing that she gets frantic being faced with a simple decision and feels blindsided when a new idea is put on the table. She can't grasp when someone is trying to make her life easier by taking something off of her plate because the anxiety rules her and her ability to process is skewed. She perceives the attempt at help as someone flipping the switch on her; she had her day planned a certain way and it must remain that way; she cannot see that someone taking care of one of her duties is helpful. Instead it makes her feel out of control. It's very hard for me to witness. It's confusing for me to receive frustration and exhaustion and anger as a response to the coveted bikini wax appointments I made for she, my cousin and I. It wasn't on her timetable for today and despite the fact that she isn't working today and had no plans she freaked out it. Any variables, anything she doesn't have complete control over or doesn't know about far, far in advance is too much to absorb. I used to get mad because I was trying to make her life easier and she was getting mad at me for it. Now that she is slowly letting me in to her world and I have become privy to the demons that plague her, she can get as angry at me for interfering as she wants. My heart goes out to her. I rarely panic. Most things roll off me. I probably should feel a lot more outrage or anger than I do. But when those emotions do overtake me, it is unbearable. Knowing that someone so close to me lives as intimately with those emotions as I do with my shoes is horrifying.

Fortunately, I can take whatever she gives me because I see life through very different glasses than she does. I get a kick out of life. I view it objectively almost as if it's a movie and I am an observer or outsider. I find it fascinating, even my own role in it, foibles and all. Her anger when it is directed at me doesn't usually doesn't affect me the way it would affect her. I don't take it personally. Knowing what she lives with makes it even less likely that I'd take any of her outbursts or erratic, unpredictable behavior personally. I just wish there was something I could offer her besides my ear. She says it helps but I want her to have more help. I am not trying to pass the buck by advocating the drugs. They were recommended by the doctor that diagnosed her disorder but she refuses to give them a shot. She is the type who won't even take an advil for a headache. In response to my queries of why she refused, she could only admit that she's afraid she'd be on the drugs for the rest of her life, a sentiment I can relate to because I will be on drugs for the rest of my life. It is scary knowing that your body is getting help and isn't functioning seamlessly and wonderfully on its own. But she has choices. While my drugs are a life or death thing, hers aren't. She could opt not to stay on them if she didn't like them. She is in control. I think she's lucky that technology has advanced to a degree that she could get help and doesn't have to live like this.

I think it's the General Anxiety Disorder that's preventing her from considering the drugs. Ironic, isn't it. There is something about remaining in control, remaining in the familiar that calms her. A drug is a scary prospect if you're coming from where she's coming from. And what if it makes her feel even worse? What if there are side effects? There are no guarantees. What it comes down to is her hands are tied, my hands are tied and all she can do is vent and all I can do is listen and let her lead hecause when she's not leading, the demons are unleashed; who knows where, me, the person who loves her most in the world might take her. That comment was obviously tongue in cheek and illuminates the graveness and tragedy of the situation. Too bad I couldn't have taken one for the team. I went through enough so others don't have to, didn't I?? Bottom line is she needs to let go and I wish she'd feel my arms around her providing a strong safety net. Bottom line is her disorder prevents her from ever letting go. And there we remain. Stalemate.