Doing Our Best

 

When I freak out I cry. I really cry. I wail straight from the gut of my soul. I do that sobbing thing that you see in those well-acted movies that makes you want to sob too or run away super fast.

Case in point, last night I was replaying those messages of having failed in someway over and over in my head. I am super good at that. It’s a super power, and no amount of book smarts, meditation, or therapeutic remedies seem to remove that aspect about me. It’s kind of grown on Dave. And he’s gotten to the point where he comes to expect it from me, and knows just what to say to zip up those open wounds. In fact, last night I was freaking out a bit. Having a little tear parade. It’s that premenopausal-Aspie-Cancerian-INFJ-Idealist combo that you just can’t top! Not that you’d want to. And Dave, as I cried, he let me be, wrapped his arms around me and kept whispering words like: I love you and accept you just the way you are.

I hold onto those moments, those times he lifts me out of my self-created dark place. And I replay those memories because I know without a doubt that soon Dave will need me. Like today…

Today Dave freaked out and when Dave freaks out, he FREAKS OUT. Let me tell you! He has those typical Aspie spells that I have only heard others tell. Call them meltdowns or shutdowns or plain mayhem, whatever they are, they are scary. And it doesn’t help that I am sensitive to the max and don’t do emotions well at all—beyond crying. In my last relationship my former husband Mike was Spock, so I didn’t have to deal with much ‘feelings’ beyond my own. And as you might have gathered, my feelings were enough for the two of us. And now there’s Dave, bless his heart. The two of us are one powerful combo. I am liken to the dynamite of despair and he is akin to the drum of demise. Together we make a loud racket!

But as our relationship grows I am learning that despite our independent ways in which we ‘lose it’ that there is a norm we both return to time and time again. A leveling and returning to self.

Eventually I return from my deep despair and he returns after his brief wanting to tear out the walls. And so I told Dave today that I think it’s what we have to expect of this relationship—the two of us being Aspie and all; indeed we are going to have those high moments of extreme childlike joy and freedom in which we play hide-and-seek in the dark and build forts and roll on the floor giggling, but we’re also going to have those intense out-of-this-zone times, where we momentarily lose our grip on the here and now and think the world, or at least our world, is coming to an end.

The challenge for me is in those intervals between the good and good, where the scary and terrible leaks through. I tend to panic and think of all the worst-case scenarios, and thusly when he is ‘spazzing’ out, my foundation shakes and I am not sure where to stand or what to focus on. It’s not easy. Of course it’s not easy. But the older I get the more I realize it’s time to stop chasing ‘normal’ and ‘easy’ and ‘trouble-free.’ I am learning to instead embrace the anomalies of life, to expect the unexpected, to ease into the uneasy, and to believe the unbelievable. That’s just life. And so it goes and goes and goes.

I don’t know what the future holds but I know that I am doing my best and that I am giving my all. And so is Dave. And that’s all we can do. And that’s all anyone can do. As I see it, we are all here just doing our best.

Advertisement