Quiet Crisis

I was talking with a friend today about Jack.  I might have mentioned on my blog before, but my husband Jack is very good in a crisis.  If there is a crisis, Jack is your guy.  I partially fell in love with him because of his ability to deal with crisis.  He is calm, cool and unflappable.  I have had more than one major crisis since I've met Jack, including when our first daughter died.  That was huge, the worst thing that had ever happened to me.  Jack was there for me, and I was there for him, which was good, even better than expected.

The downside of being really good in a crisis is that Jack doesn't sweat the small stuff.  Sometimes one needs to sweat the small stuff so it doesn't become big stuff.  I tell Jack little things that need adjusting or how I need help and support, like how I would like to know his work schedule in advance.  He'll smile and say sure, but then there isn't a change.  It isn't that Jack is unflappable.  He just doesn't flap.  I'll gently remind him again, and again and again.  And no reaction.  After months of politely asking for his work schedule, I end up screaming like a nut to get his attention.  I really don't like screaming like a nut--it's totally not my style.  By time I am screaming, I have mentally divorced him fifteen times.  And I am sure he is ready to chuck me to the curb with my lunatic behavior.

Last spring, I was having a quiet crisis, but a crisis nonetheless.  I didn't know where I was going or what I wanted to do next.  In one sense, it is quite the luxury to have nothing to do.  In another, it was maddening.  I have a hard time not being productive or involved in something.*  I like being busy.  Idleness comes hard to me.

So this was a crisis, even though it was going on inside of my head.  Many of my friends knew I was struggling to find my purpose.  Unlike losing a child which is a loud, messy, public crisis, this was a quiet crisis.  There was no major announcement.  Friends didn't bring me flowers and dinner.  This crisis didn't involve other people -- it was pretty much just me, myself and I.  Jack's job was taking over his life, and I was left alone in my head.

How does one connect during a quiet crisis?  I have had other friends who have gone through similar things, whether an illness or a long period of unemployment.  I am lucky to have good friends who supported me when Jack was checked out, but I still think perhaps the world needs a formal way to honor these quiet crises.

* Thank you, my small but loyal group of blog followers!