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Who Knew?
Who Knew?
Mak woke me at 6:14 this morning, wanting her mid-sleep bottle to get her through the next four hours. I chirped, “Thanks, little sister, you’re right on time,” and headed to the kitchen.
When I returned to the bedroom I stood there, staring at my alarm clock and convincing myself that it was okay to get back in bed because I was cold. And I knew, I just knew, that I would hear the alarm go off in 14 minutes. Right? Wrong.
I awoke again at 7:40 a.m. I blasted obscenities at the one who lies next to the alarm (not to mention any names but it starts with “Da” and ends with “man”)for turning it off and frantically jumped out of bed. I started running around in a fury, trying to retrieve the mental checklist I had prepared last night before going to bed while hurling “get up”s toward the bedroom.
See, we were supposed to leave at 7:30 this morning for his dental appointment in The Big City. Not waking up until 7:40 really wasn’t a good thing.
“I’m not going,” Da Man said.
“Get up.”
“No.”
“You have to get up and call them.”
“The phone’s downstairs,” he said.
And this is where I get to the point of my post.
I have been doing some surfing on the net in search of more pointed help toward partners of veterans with PTSD. I get the DL (down low) on things from him when he returns home from his weekly PTSD group, but it’s always about him and how he is supposed to deal with it. I need insight on us as a family and how we’re supposed to deal with it.
I came across some pretty interesting stuff yesterday, written by the wife of a Vietnam Vet. She also happens to be a mental health professional, which is a plus, eh.
The first thing that really grabbed me was her bit about co-dependency. “If you’re dying and someone else’s life flashes before your eyes then you’re pretty much co-dependent.” Wow.
She went on to write about the many and varied ways that we, family and friends, make the recovery about us and how we attempt to save the person from his or her problems. What I really liked about it is that she has lived it and realizes that yes, it’s normal for everyone in the inner circle to begin circling everything around the person because of the need to be “rescuers.” This chick really hit home.
I was stunned when I read the same excuses and alibis in her article that go on in my life: “The house isn’t clean so I’m mad.” “If you’d keep the kids quieter I would be happier.” Her list was my list. Her husband was my Da Man.
And finally I read that it was okay for me to realize that it’s not me who has PTSD. And the rate at which he recovers has nothing to do with how good of a mother or partner I am. It’s not my problem to solve and by helping him to constantly pick up the pieces and nag at him isn’t doing anything but aggravating the situation.
So you know what? I haven’t gone to work to fix this missed appointment. Nope. Instead I came downstairs and made sure that Grace was up for school (she stayed with mom last night so I wouldn’t have to wake her up two hours early). When I saw that everything that was my responsibility was going well, I took my coffee to the backyard and enjoyed the quiet of the morning. And it’s lovely. It’s liberating.
Who knew that I wasn’t responsible for fixing him? *mocked gaping mouth “surprise” expression*
posted on Apr 24, 2008 7:24 AM ()
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Words we could all live by.
His fault, he should fix it. You aren't his momma. 
That hasta be a tough situation though girl... kudos to you on how you've been dealing so far! 
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