While I was getting ready for work this morning, I found this picture of a bowl of chili peppers, taken at 3:40am, in my camera roll. Because of the way our iCloud photo sharing is set up, my husband’s camera roll and mine, are connected.
So chili peppers. Innocuous right? To a sane brain, perhaps. But to me, I saw a bowl of chili peppers, taken at 3:40 am and immediately went to, “What if this picture was sent in response to another woman in some way?” Muy Caliente
This is my mental illness and the panic it can insight, over even the most ridiculous of triggers. Remember the commercials from the 80’s with the egg? “This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs.”? This morning my egg brain got fried with hot peppers. “This is your brain, this is your brain on fire.” Currently, my biggest fears and delusions are, “What if my husband is cheating on me? What if he’s a porn addict? What if he finds other women more attractive than me and thus, WANTS to have an affair?” And scariest of all, “What if he is lying and gaslighting me about any or all of these things…and I’m having the wool pulled over my eyes?” All of this compounded by these handy-dandy little devices called smart phones and the horrible pit of depravity, that is the internet.
It sounds crazy. It IS crazy. But crazy almost always has an origin story.
I come from a wildly dysfunctional family and a childhood full of chaos, emotional abuse, gaslighting and an absentee father. When the people who are supposed to love you and keep you safe, physically and emotionally, do the opposite; it sort of hardwires your brain into believing that’s what All people will do. No one can be trusted. Not even my husband, who does love me and does keep me safe.
So this morning, with the chili peppers, I found the picture. Immediately my pulse starts racing, within the space of one of those very rapid heartbeats, my brain (which when in a healthy place, is quite emotionally intelligent) says, “Whoah, whoah, whoah….this is not even a thing, let’s take it down a notch.” I start to breathe, but the panic is already in my chest and I can tell I’m not going to be able to reign it in. So I bring it up, casually, in a would-be joking manner. He has a reasonable explanation about being up to use the bathroom at the time, how he must have saved the picture when reading an article about foods that are difficult to find outside of the US. I accept this new information, and walk out of the room. I get half way down the hallway before it starts again, “But wait a second, this was a picture specifically saved, not an accidental screenshot. Are chili peppers even FROM the US? And he’s so smart, of course he could come up with a plausible story off the cuff, he may have even thought it up in advance….” And on and on. But I tell myself, “Alicia, shut.the.fuck.up, you are being insane.” I go back down the hallway to say goodbye, ready to leave for work. Give him a kiss. Turn away. Make it a few steps…NOPE! I open the door back up. “I’m struggling.” I blurt out. “With what?” He responds. Out spill my thoughts on the chili peppers and the picture being a screen shot vs. a saved photo, and all of my panic. My face is hot. I am sweaty. Keep in mind, this is my husband of 18 years I’m talking to. Also keep in mind we have similar conversations, a couple times a month. Still, I feel as embarrassed as I did in the 7th grade when my crush intercepted a note written all about him.
Now, to an outsider, and even to my husband, I’m sure it looks like I am just a mental patient that cannot be rational. That cannot let nothing be nothing. That cannot NOT make mountains out of anthills. But to a girl that has been in therapy for two years, working on voicing insecurities and fears instead of letting them eat her alive, this is big stuff that I have to practice releasing, over and over again. So we talked it through. I explain to him how gross it all feels. The paranoia, the fear, the guilt, the shame. I explain for maybe the 1000th time how my subconscious brain just will.not.allow me to settle down and believe that everything is ok. That my life is not going to explode at any moment. How every time I talk myself down from a ledge there’s this snaky little voice that says, “But what iffff???” He finds the article about the US foods, and shows me the picture in it. “Does this make you feel better?” He asks … kind of.
He is frustrated, but patient and assures me for probably the 1001th time that he is not going to crush my soul, break my heart or explode my life. I tell him I believe him….mostly.
I made it through my day without any additional panic attacks, a Little Victory, due in large part to my husband’s patience. There have been similar times when things did not go as well. He did not take it in stride and keep his cool. He felt attacked and got angry, reacting instead of responding, which can make things worse, starting a whole host of other issues and fears.
I know in my heart that this man loves me. That he is attracted to me above all others, not just because of how I look, but for who I am. That he cherishes our life together, and in addition to having no desire to break my heart, he also doesn’t want to blow up his *own* life. I know this. I believe it. Mostly. Here’s hoping some day I’ll stop worrying, but what if…
little victories 
Leave a comment