Waiting for the Waterworks
My emotional recovery proceeds apace. (I had to look up "apace." It means "quickly," which is good, because I really wanted to use that sentence.)Yesterday, it went faster than I could handle. I was having dinner with my parents, and I was consistently amused by their conversation, which hasn't happened since I was about 12. It felt good to let in the joy without putting up the usual barricades against my folks.
Unfortunately, after I went downstairs to watch TV alone, I had an anxiety attack. It felt like a burst of uncontrollable energy. It didn't last long, but the anxious energy lingered in my chest, so I took a Lorazepam. I've only used 3 of those sedatives since I got the prescription in May, and they're mild anyway. I turned off the TV and meditated briefly on the floor. That seemed to help more than the Lorazepam.
I went upstairs and told Mom and Dad about it. They were helpful. I said I must've gotten too much energy from our dinner conversation. It's also kinda scary to feel like you've finally fixed your relationship with your parents after 24 years. The last time we had a strong relationship I was 12. I don't know what a healthy adult relationship with my parents looks like. I don't know what the repercussions will be. They should be good, but they're still unknown.
Maybe the main reason I'm afraid is that I'm making myself completely vulnerable to my parents again after 24 years. I still feel like they've let me down in the past. But, after re-examining our history with an empathetic mind, I think their mistakes were the result of good intentions or common human flaws. Still, though, that's a long period of distrust to overcome.
But I'd be willing to bet the primary cause of this distress is my inability to cry. That was the other emotional bridge that broke down when I hit puberty (and started middle school). I think if I could cry, esp. in front of my parents, that would go a long way toward healing me. A lot of pain has built up in the last 24 years. I'm not saying I haven't released any of it, but I'm guessing some of that old pain is still causing me problems, still waiting to be liberated.
It would also be nice to be able to process emotions healthfully. In elementary school, I cried often. My stone face didn't take over until I got to middle school. Fully opening up to my parents could re-open the waterworks. It means changing back into someone I haven't been since I was 12. Change is scary, as is being emotionally vulnerable. I'll have to proceed cautiously.