Wow blogosphere the last eight days have been a horrible storm of anxiety, fear, depression, and tears. Things were so bad that I ended up on the floor of my bathroom, in the dark, with the door locked, sobbing, and unable to even sit up. I was possibly the worst anxiety attack I have had since I was pregnant with Estrid. Lets rewind to the beginning of the month so I can catch you up.
The first couple days of the month Elvis's mother (hereafter referred to as MIL) was here to visit with us and the girls. For years we have wondered if MIL knows about the cross-dressing, she seems to drop little hints in conversations and wait to see what we do. Elvis has been debating telling her about Evita for awhile now and seeing what she has to say. Part of me likes the fact that we are both confident she will be accepting and loving about that entire area of our lives but of course the other part of me wants to keep this as quiet as possible. Elvis decided that this was the trip, he was going to take her out to dinner and lay it all out on the table. MIL took it in stride, stressed that she loves Elvis no matter what, and professed to have no idea about the cross-dressing. Well Elvis felt joy and relief upon sharing this burden with his mother I was feeling very uneasy about what she was thinking, feeling, and who she would tell.
The day after "the confession" I took MIL to the airport and told her that acceptance comes in waves, one day the acceptance is there and the next you are angry that Elvis is not "normal." (Normal a la Beaver Cleaver of course) She told me that she did have some idea as Elvis was growing up but pushed it way back into her subconscious. She also confided in me that she feels Elvis is "taking chances" with his cross-dressing, that he is going out too much and could be recognized. When I told her I had the same fear she then turned on me and said that Elvis will always take care of his family and I needed to have faith in him. WTF?
A few days after that Elvis and I had a rare date night, we are trying very hard to make couple time happen at least twice a month. The girls went to a drop in care center and we went out for dinner somewhere that didn't have place mats one can color. As we are a few miles from the restaurant Elvis tells me that while working on updating his security clearance at work a security officer pulled him in for an interview. Sounds pretty normal right? Then the officer starts hinting around that they have the ability to search and find things on-line that maybe the everyday person can't find. Okay.... They can see a lot of things on-line that maybe you don't think they can see. Okay... They have also checked his phone in the past. Again okay..... Maybe there is something that someone can blackmail him with to his wife. No, I cannot be blackmailed to my wife. People can also try and blackmail you with something to your parents too. Something that they maybe can see on-line that you don't want work to know. No, I cannot be blackmailed to my parents. As long as you are sure you can't be blackmailed for anything you do in your private life. No, I cannot be blackmailed. I immediately started hyperventilating and the fear set in. I worked really hard to bring myself past it so that we could have our rare date night but under all the fear I was so mad that Elvis would hit me with this at this time. Timing is everything for fucks sake and that was some shitty timing.
The following day was a workday and for the first time in two days I didn't get any kind of call or note from Elvis letting me know when he was planning on being home. On any given day that is not abnormal but after the conversation he night before I FREAKED THE F OUT. I was just sure that he had been pulled aside, confronted, and was getting fired or sent to a Siberian prison or something. The two previous days he had picked up Enid from school and was home by 330, 330 passes, 430 passes, 530 passes. I was so anxious and it was getting worse and worse with each passing hour. By the time I heard the garage door open at 6 I went running out demanding to know where he had been. (Not one of my finer moments but it seems my last few brain cells were fighting amongst themselves and I couldn't think.) Elvis said he was at work, blah, blah, blah, spazzy wife shrieks, wife crying, wife hyperventilating, wife on bathroom floor in the dark. Sometimes I think Elvis may be put up for sainthood after his death, probably caused by exasperation over his crazy wife.
The day after this my eyes are still so swollen they don't look open but life goes on right? I get a phone call that a family member on my side had been evicted from their home of thirty something years, hadn't been paying bills, etc. I try and help which of course blows up in my face, fights amongst family members ensue, I end up deciding they all can suck it because I have my own problems.
Oh my sweet baby Jesus, give me a break please!
