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“She gave me an engagement ring and now I see those walls going up again. Half of me is busy planning a proposal and the other half is panicking.”
“Have you talked to her about it? Asked her what’s wrong?”
I stare at her, annoyed that she got right to the heart of my problem. “No.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because that was something we fought over in the past. She felt I pushed her too much by asking her that. There was a moment yesterday, but against my better judgment, I didn’t ask.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to come off as anxious or needy. I don’t want her to think that’s why I’m asking.”
“Is that why you were asking?”
I blink a few times. I really hate therapy tennis sometimes. I serve and she volleys it right back to me.
“I don’t… think so.” I swallow, trying to get my head on straight. “I wanted to ask because of my genuine concern for her wellbeing, but then I started thinking maybe it’s never been concern at all, maybe it’s always been my anxiety.”
She sets her pen down and looks at me. “You may be overthinking it.”
“So you’re saying I anxiety-ed myself into thinking it was anxiety when it wasn’t anxiety at all?”
She laughs lightly. “Stranger things have happened. Do you feel more concerned about your anxiety now than you used to be?”
“I’m more… aware of it. Aware of how it can affect my relationship with someone else.”
“It can. However, the desire to check in with the people we love when they’re acting differently isn’t necessarily anxiety. Even if it was, to ask a time or two if they’re okay speaks more to genuine concern and empathy than anything else. Beyond that, in choosing a partner, we choose whatever complex puzzle pieces they bring with them. Anxiety is one of yours. If you’re working toward a healthy partnership, you need to trust in her to not push you away when you ask a question or when your anxiety is showing. If you aren’t lining up in those areas, it may be wise to seek couples’ counseling.”
I close my eyes, breathing deep. Inhale. Exhale. Just fucking breathe. I need to talk to Amelia. I love her. I want to marry her. She says she wants to marry me, but this is the first big test we’ve had since being in our love bubble. Our now popped love bubble, which has been replaced by her walls and my panic. This is my anxiety trigger point right now. Fear of rejection. That she’ll push me away. Just fucking breathe.
“Miles, I think it’s important you ask yourself why you’re scared of her reaction. What are you truly afraid of happening? You’ve mentioned her pushing you away, but an action like that may be temporary. I’d recommend exploring the deeper feelings there and having an honest conversation. What can you control in a healthy way?”
“My actions and reactions,” I say like a fed-up parrot.
She chuckles. “Precisely. Take some time to be honest with yourself, then be honest with her. Stress like this can worsen your anxiety.” No shit. “Keep checking in with yourself. Use your grounding techniques. If you need more help with coping mechanisms, send me a text any time.”
I nod, then push myself out of the chair. “Thank you.”
She nods. “Have a good night, Miles.”
“You too,” I say before walking out of the room, my stomach in knots.
Before I ever went to therapy, I thought it was supposed to help you feel better. Now I know the truth. Therapy comes with homework. Lots of emotional homework. And sometimes I leave therapy sessions feeling worse than I did before because I have work to do based on what was discussed. Tonight, that means introspection and answering questions I don’t particularly want to ask myself. Like why I’m afraid she’ll push me away, if I trust her as much as I’m supposed to, and if I’m struggling with these things, am I ready to propose to her?
I want that answer to be yes because she’s my future. I’ve known that for a long time, but I need to be sure our foundation is solid before we start building on it.
The only way to do that is to do the hard work.
Tonight hasn’t left much time for introspection.
I came home to Emmie screaming and Amelia covered in puke. Emmie has been extra fussy, and we thought it was just teething, but now it seems more like a growth spurt. She’s eating more than usual, and sucking the milk down as fast as she can get it, which leads to her being gassy and then spitting up more. Then she screams because she’s hungry, and we do it all over again.
As always, Amelia is my superwoman. She stripped off her puked-on shirt and fed Emmie while walking back and forth around the living room and kitchen as I made dinner.
After eating, we collapsed on the couch in absolute silence. For about five minutes until Emmie screamed again. Exhaustion was apparent in Amelia’s eyes, so I took Emmie, insisting Amelia take a quick shower before bed.
When she came out, looking refreshed, she took Emmie from me and sent me in for a shower while she got cozy in bed with an audiobook and Emmie in her arms. We make a good team. We work well together. We anticipate the other’s needs. Logically, I know all this, but logic doesn’t always stop anxiety. Arguing with anxiety is like arguing with a toddler. They make up their own nonsense rules and take no questions or feedback.
