Love is a 3 am Run...

It was 3 am and I was awake again with another anxiety attack. This had been my life for weeks... being unable to fall asleep unless the comforting body of my husband lay next to me... waking up in fear each time he rolled away. The fear was always so startling that the pounding of my heart would keep me awake, the adrenaline coursing through my veins leaving me with an excess of energy. I always did my best not to wake him because we both needed to be up in a few hours for work. Tonight was different though. I was terrified, energized, and feeling like I was going to burst. I wanted to run. I lightly tapped T, half hoping he'd wake up and half hoping he'd roll over and go back to sleep. I felt so guilty waking him up but if I left the house I knew he'd know and be scared about where the hell I was at 3 in the morning.

I don't know if you've ever sat outside at 3 am... it's one of my favorite times of day. It feels like everything is asleep in that moment, even the nocturnal animals. It's so still that you can hear the breeze rustling the leaves. The stars seem to shine at their brightest and the clouds seem to move just a little bit faster. Life carries on even while we're not paying attention and that comforts me.

To my (half) surprise, T woke up and asked me what was wrong - all things considered, it was a reasonable question. But I struggle with communicating what I'm feeling. Vulnerability makes me feel sick. So I respond with a smile, "I want to go running. Want to go with me?" He looks at me like I'm crazy and responds, "Now?!? What time is it???" I nonchalantly say, "3 am" and start to get dressed. "I couldn't sleep and figured that I'd go running. Maybe it'll help me get an hour of sleep instead of an on-again-off-again 15 minutes. You don't have to come. I just didn't want you to worry if you woke up and I wasn't here." He shrugs, pushes the covers back, and hops out of bed. He starts to get dressed without another question, we lace up our sneakers, and we head out the door.

THIS... this is what love is.

I had been so stressed out. I'd like to say that I wasn't myself but our stressed selves are still ourselves. I was coming home and I was a silent stranger. I didn't want to talk - I preferred to sit in silence, playing games on my phone, watching Law & Order reruns, and pretending that the anger, despair, hurt, anxiety, pain, and hopelessness I was feeling was happening to someone else. T would make me a drink and I'd relax after a few minutes. I'd talk, but it would be about everything in the world other than what was bothering me until a tangent brought me around to it. Then the ranting would begin and he'd patiently listen. He'd understand the things I wasn't saying. He'd ask the right questions that would get to the heart of my issue. I'd feel vulnerable, be unable to sleep that night and, most likely, see 3 am.

This is love.

I'm not painting my husband to be a saint... trust me, he's not. But I think we sometimes only remember to love each other through the good. Love is being able to see the good even when someone's pain masks their good. Love is caring enough to walk into their dark abyss with them and pull them them out. Love is passionately refusing to lose your grip on someone and, more importantly, helping them to keep a grip on themselves.

We came back from our run... it only lasted 15 minutes. During the periods that we could breathe, I told T why I loved 3 am. We didn't talk about my anxiety attacks... we didn't need to. He understood them when I explained my love of 3 am. We went back to bed and I curled into his arms. We stayed that way until the sun rose and it was time to go to work. I had some of my best sleep in those few hours and awoke feeling refreshed.

This is love.