The Peaceruiner Meets His Match

My husband and I walked hand in hand around the block. Sweat dripped from his forehead; even at sunset, summer in Florida is brutal.  A mourning dove cooed, rabbits hopped through the empty lots. The burrowing owls had made another nest across the street. My mind wandered to four months earlier. We were different then.

For over twenty-five years, Eric’s been the extreme extrovert while I’ve been the extreme introvert. I have to admit I’ve always felt weaker than him, jealous of his ability to talk with ease to anyone. Weaker because of the anxiety that plagued me before, during, and after any social engagement. Whenever Eric would ask me to accompany him to a party, I’d struggle with whether I should go for him, or do what I really wanted to do and curl up on the couch with a good book or documentary.

We eventually came to an understanding that he’d do what he loved, and that was going out with his work friends, talking to as many people as he could, and having a great time. I’d do the same from the comfort and safety of our home. Still, I felt like the odd one in the relationship, and I felt a twinge of guilt for not being the “supportive wife.”

My introverted and highly sensitive ways made me very different from my husband. He told me he understood. Guilt told me he didn’t.

Then in mid-March, everything changed.

Learning that we had to stay home caused high anxiety in Eric and a sense of freedom in me that I’d never felt. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to battle my anxiety. I didn’t have to worry about who I was letting down if I chose to stay home. Besides the virus, my main concern became whether I’d still be able to write with Eric home. Once in a fit of frustration, while writing, I nicknamed him The Peaceruiner. A giant grin crossed his face, “I love it!”

For the first time in our relationship, I felt like we were existing in my world. I felt a strength like never before. I was the one asking Eric if he was okay. He was out of his comfort zone while I was decked out in sweats, thoroughly enjoying mine.  For the first time, he truly understood what I had tried to explain to him for years. Anxiety sucks! Being extroverted meant he never had to stay home for more than a couple of days. He could always go out, talk to people, and feel fine. Now, going out meant risking his health and ours. Anxiety in the form of sadness hit him hard, leaving us both stunned. We had a whole new understanding of each other.

It took time to fall into our daily routine. Eric recently told me that he’s now half introvert half extrovert. I think he’s adjusted well. When he’s feeling like the walls are closing in, he drives around in his car, plays loud music, and stops random places to play some wizard catching game that I still don’t understand. He tells me he’s going wizarding, and I shake my head.

I’ve taken to writing in notebooks again. It’s what I did when my kids were little, and now that my husband and son are home, if I feel I need quiet, I can find solitude in a corner of our home or sitting under a tree at the barn with Stella.

Each morning I wake, make sure I can hold my breath for fifteen seconds, make sure I can smell the mint in my toothpaste, and feel gratitude for my health. Eric does push-ups before work, makes coffee, and then disappears to his office.  Some days we share lunch. Some days we go for walks. Life is simple. Life is lived day to day, knowing that change could come at any moment, and that’s why the present is a gift.