Progress is not Linear

I often get asked by friends and family “How is Nicole doing?”

I always pause before I answer. Good, I guess? It’s hard for me to tell. That’s because I’m on the outside trying to look in. I can see on her face when she is in a good spot. I can sometimes see on her face when she isn’t. But I’m not sure I always catch those times.

I’ve also been told I’m a good mom (most often by Dave). I guess? It’s a bit strange to hear that. Doing anything other than what I’m doing would be out of the question. Sort of like being told I’m a good breather.

As I alluded to in my last post, Nicole started a three week outpatient program at McLean upon our return from Florida. Since the program was voluntary, her initial plan was to go the first week and withdraw when Heather, Meagan, Chris, and the kids arrived for Christmas.

She ended up missing only one day of the program – Christmas Eve.

After Christmas, Nicole would come home from the program with stories about the people she was getting to know. Like

• The original cool kid she sat with at lunch her first day who became her favorite and who drew her a picture of an electric guitar that said “You rock”.
• The second cool kid who bought a group of them lemonades after “school” one day and who ran up to me to introduce himself because he liked Nicole so much.
• The 19-year-old alcoholic who told Nicole she was like a mom to her and hugged her when she left.
• The married father who confided he was there without his wife’s knowledge.
• The 80 year old man, with a sense of humor like Phil’s, who cried on his last day in the program.
• The woman who ran up to Nicole in a panic asking “Today isn’t your last day, is it?”
• The woman who wrote a heartfelt note in cursive in a card she specially selected for Nicole.
• The group who sang a walk-out song for her on her last day.

She had mixed feelings leaving the program as she had mixed feelings going back to work. There wasn’t much of a break between the two. She finished the program on Friday, we got set up in her apartment on Sunday, and she started work on Monday.

At work, she was quickly loaded up with projects which alleviated her fears of being laid off. She was happy to see her co-workers, and she informed her ex that friendly chit chat was not necessary and, in fact, frowned upon. Yes, the first day went well, though stressful, which might have played into the panic attack she had that evening.

While she was at work over the next couple of days, my plan was to explore Boston. I was thinking of visiting the Gardner Museum and skating on Frog Pond. But it was so fricken cold outside. Instead, I organized her apartment. Every inch of it. By Wednesday, she texted this to the family:

I was so busy organizing, I payed only passing attention to the headline notifications that popped up on my phone. I saw something about fires in LA. Once we finally turned on the TV, I saw how serious they were. Heather and Lexi joked that their moms didn’t care about them because neither of us had checked in on them.

On Wednesday, after putting the finishing touches on the organizing (the fridge shelves), picking up quarters for laundry (in the North End), and grocery shopping (at the Garden), I headed back to Methuen to give Nicole a few days on her own.

It was also a few days on my own. No kids. No dogs. Not even a husband. Dave had returned to Jupiter shortly after Christmas to represent us at the club’s New Year’s Eve party where he did an excellent job. (He had offered to stay with us. Nicole and I encouraged him to go.)

I would be lying if I denied enjoying a few days on my own. It was quiet. And meals for one are so much easier to plan and prepare. However, my anxiety level increased a bit. Since I wasn’t able to see Nicole’s face, I had no indication as to how she was doing. I, of course, imagined the worst. Daily FaceTimes helped alleviate that anxiety.

On Monday, I returned to Florida. I have to admit I almost got off the plane because Nicole texted me as we were about to take off that she needed to make an emergency run to the vet with Brew. He’s fine. And I’m proud of myself that I didn’t get off the plane.

Since then I’ve been playing hours and hours of pickleball. And FaceTiming with Nicole every day.

You can see on her face she’s in a good spot.