It’s 11:30am, and I’m sitting anxiously in a meeting from Hell. While my coworkers fight over the meaning of “innovative” in relation to our new mission statement, I’m stealing glances at my iPhone. Still black. Nothing has popped up in hours. My stomach turns. I get sweaty.
My source of anxiety: Husband’s first, in-person interview since being let go.
Leading up to this interview, I was receiving a barrage of texts from him regarding his own nervousness- everything from his shirt not being able to button correctly to a broken mirror and a missing resume. Now, his radio silence was even more annoying than having to field questions about safety pins and the nearest Kinkos print station.
Every time my eyes darted to my phone, my coworker would shoot me a knowing look. “It’s ok. He’ll do fine.”
Noon hits and I’m still out of the loop. Now I’m getting paranoid that this wasn’t a job interview at all but some weird ploy to entangle and capture my obviously valuable husband for ransom. But then I remember that these mystery kidnappers are trying to ensnare an admittedly unemployed man with a wife working a job that makes just enough to be somewhat respectable. What do they think they’ll get from me?
But then the text comes in. “Done.” WTF. I apparently waited anxiously for a “Done” text. Boys. After some gentle probing, he finally says that it went, “fine,” which loosely translates to: “Fitisthenewpoor, it went horribly. Just stop asking me about it, and lets pretend it never happened.”
In reality, I have no idea how it went, but the silence on the end of my husband isn’t very promising. So I’m putting us back at square one.
How am I coping? Freaking out- naturally. My anxiety has sent my motivation to work out (even to do yoga) back at level 0 and has directly compromised my immune system. Every day, I feel more and more tired and sick at the same time. My eye has been twitching. My hair is falling out in large chunks. My skin conditions are acting up. I’m a massive mess. And as we count down to the last paycheck (t-minus 7 days), I find myself growing more and more in state of near panic attack.
Ok. That’s a lie. Yesterday I had my first full, post wedding, panic attack in my therapist’s office. It wasn’t pretty and I don’t want to rehash.
I suppose I should end this on a happy note, but I really do not have one right now. My husband is keeping a relatively stable mood, but I can feel the weight of what is happening starting to press down on both of us. And I wonder how much longer can the both of us keep it together, mentally.