The Adventures of Anxiety Girl: Growing Up After Saying "I Do" (Part I)

It’s Wifey Wednesday over at To Love Honor and Vacuum and Living Well Wednesday over at Women Living Well.

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21 seems so very young, now. At the time, Daniel and I were confident that we were ready. One marriage counselor even told us that we were “unusually mature”; actually, he was just “unusually inept” at detecting facades.

The facades Daniel and I brought to our marriage weren’t intentional. Neither of us plotted, “Wait ’til after the wedding to reveal my true self!” But after the wedding, my dysfunctional alter ego promptly appeared on the doorstep — uninvited! — and took over our tiny married housing duplex.

Daniel knew that I’d struggled with, and even been hospitalized for, an eating disorder in high school. He thought I’d taken care of my issues. And he expected himself to be such an incredible husband that he could solve any little problems that arose. How hard could it possibly be to be married to me?

Enter Anxiety Girl.

Thanks to her, our marriage blazed through the “blissful” stage, briefly touched down at “difficult,” and meteored straight to “nigh on impossible.”

Daniel and I argued over everything: on which wall to place the sofa (the so-called “logical wall” won), what time to eat Thanksgiving Dinner (Daniel was asleep at 3:00…so you’d better believe I woke him up!), whether or not we were having “enough” sex (we weren’t), how many knives should be used in one day (1).

Back then, I didn’t recognize Anxiety Girl when she showed up. And I certainly had no clue the impact she had on me and, thus, our marriage. I would switch from “normal” to frantic in a matter of seconds, all the time patting myself on the back for being the reasonable one in our marriage.

Anxiety Girl holds rigidly to three relationship rules:

1. My reality must be affirmed in order for me to have worth. Disagreement = see Rule #2.
2. My expectations must be met in order for me to be happy. Disappointment = see Rule #3.
3. My needs, wants, beliefs, thoughts, and feelings must be yours in order for me to feel loved. Differences = see Rule #1.

What is no doubt obvious to you, as you read this list, came as a total shock to me when I joined an eating disorder therapy group in my 40s:

I am immature in key areas of my life.

I — who have frequently been held up as a model of responsibility and achievement — am immature?

(Enter Anxiety Girl) No, I’m not! No, I’m not! I am NOT immature! Not, not, Not, NOt, NOT!

Case in point. SIGH. (At least my Anxiety Girl punctuates correctly…!)

Anxiety Girl has kept parts of me far too young for far too long. And the area of my life most damaged, however accidentally, by Anxiety Girl’s constant meddling is my marriage.

I suspect I’m not alone in this.

In Part II, I’ll share some specific ways I’ve learned to “grow up” my thoughts, feelings, and reactions, releasing my marriage from the hyper-vigilant stalking of Anxiety Girl.