Ups + downs, ups + downs.

I can feel my conscious slowly catching up with what I believe my subconscious already knows... 

The stupidest thing sparked an argument on Saturday morning - I was trying to help him fix a problem that had arisen (he needed a gift for a friend whose house we were about to reach, and I was driving and needed to find a place to get a gift quickly), and he got angry at me for reasons that are too long and minute to need to go into.  Finally, I let the tiniest amount of frustration on my end become apparent, and his temper tantrum went even further with him raising his voice and going into "Why are you even with me?", "We aren't happy together", etc., etc. 

We spent the rest of the evening and an overnight with his friends, and for a good part of the evening, I was somewhat despondent.  A few minutes before we arrived to their home, he had dropped the attitude and went back to speaking to me like normal, like nothing had just stifled his patience and heightened his volume and temper past an acceptable point. 

This time though, it stuck with me.  I didn't shake it off, relieved that he had dropped it and content to move on without dissecting what had just happened.  It stuck with me. 

It stuck with me throughout the night's sleep - it turned into one of those subconscious sleeps where technically, yes you are "asleep", but your mind is churning through something that is overshadowing your real life.  I woke up, and I texted my mom: "Thank you for raising me to be strong and confident, and know that I can handle anything that comes my way."  She knows what has been going on the past few weeks...I had finally let her in on Mike's anxiety issues the night he was admitted to the ER after the Kenny Chesney concert.

Anyway, whatever it was that stuck with me from our spat on Saturday seems to have seeped into me, like really seeped into my mind and made me aware that I can handle the repercussions if Mike + I were to break up.  Living together is really the biggest bitch of it all - trying to make sure I can handle the rent and bills solo, especially on top of my newly found car payment.  I've crunched the numbers though, and if need be, I can do it.

Then you think of all the plans that are already in place for the upcoming months:  We have a vacation to the Virginia shore booked for next month, Los Angeles + Las Vegas for Thanksgiving with my family, and Key West for a week in March.  It's him that will be out the plane ticket fare to LA or airline points that were his that we used to book Key West, and I feel guilty for that.

It just...it has to change.  Something has got to give for this to move forward in a positive way. 

OH!  And I completely forgot to mention that I asked him again to go see a therapist or visit his doctor to re-evaluate his medicine type and dose.  He even received a letter in the mail on Friday from the emergency room we visited last month during his huge panic attack, and it suggested that he switch medication immediately, as his was obviously not working, and it even suggested which medicine would be more affective for his level of anxiety.  When I pushed the subject, what did he say to me?  That he actually has been very spotty with his medication for the last month, and that is the reasoning for his recent and frequent attacks.  For me to be patient while he gets back on his medication regularly and that then I will see that his medicine actually is right for him.

I didn't express it, but I was angry and resentful.  You've been putting yourself and me through hell, dragging me through an emergency room in a town that was foreign to me, waking me up with your attempt to gasp for air every night multiple times per night, and all because you have not been responsible enough to keep up with your once-a-day medication?! 

I never foresaw my life, especially due to a relationship, being such the roller coaster that it is lately.  Being in love with someone who, it turns out, is not healthy for you, is such a heart wrenching situation.

Addendum:  I have to mention that this morning, upon waking up, I felt blue and down.  I walked into the living room, where he was working on a project, and he looked up and said with a sweet smile, "Good morning, love of my life."  And just now, handing me my phone that was blinking, "You have a message, baby baby."  (Baby baby is our silly nickname for each other.)  These sweet times then just add to my mental confusion and inability to figure out which direction to turn and firmly plant my feet.