How Eggshells Start and Live On
I don’t think I ever realized that walking on eggshells was a thing until 2021. That’s when I heard about the book, “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care About Has Borderline Personality Disorder.” (affiliate link)
Two radio show hosts discussed the book, recommending it for a caller. From the hosts’ description and diving into the book, I realized that walking on eggshells had been a thing in my life for decades.
Maybe I’m the densest person in the world. I don’t know.
Here’s the story of how a huge eggshell in my life originated.
Someone Doesn’t Just Walk Off of a Plane . . .
It was May 1999. My wife and I were in Manchester, NH, fresh from a work-related trip to a NASCAR race. After attending the Saturday afternoon event, we headed home Sunday morning. At the Manchester airport, they announced that our Southwest flight had a mechanical issue. They would board us on time, though. Then when mechanics fixed the plane, we’d be ready to take-off immediately.
My wife balked at that.
Since the plane was going to crash (because that’s what happens when there’s a mechanical problem), she didn’t want to board. I must have tried first convincing her that everything would be fine, telling her that this was standard practice. If I recall correctly, I shortly moved to pleading with her that we’d need to board with everyone else; there wasn’t an option for preferential treatment.
Twenty-five years later, I can’t remember if they allowed her to board later, after the mechanical issue was fixed. I’m not sure. You’d think I’d remember something like that. The next flight experience was so bizarre, though, that the one in Manchester wasn’t anything by comparison.
Then She Walks Off a Departing Plane
We landed late in Baltimore and raced to the gate for our return flight home. This was Southwest in the old days. Since we weren’t there to get in line early, we were boarding last. The two remaining seats on the plane were ours. No matter where they were.
I sat near the back of the plane in a middle seat. Not comfortable, but still relieved that we made it and were heading home.
My wife was in the middle seat rows ahead of me. Getting settled quickly, just as they were about to close the plane’s door to prepare for takeoff, I looked and saw my wife gathering her things and hurrying off the plane.
Yes, she walked right off the plane.
I had only a few seconds to decide.
Maybe against my better judgment, I grabbed my things and headed for the plane’s door to see what was wrong. I couldn’t leave her alone in Baltimore.
Exiting the jetway, I expected to see her there with the gate agent.
Silly me. Silly silly me.
She was nowhere to be seen. I searched frantically around the gate area: she had disappeared.
Imagine the situation. I just walked off the plane heading home to tend to my wife. She had vanished. The plane was pulling away. It soon vanished from sight, too.
My wife was gone. Disappeared.
Did I mention that it was the weekend of the Million Mom March in DC? I don’t know how many moms flew out of Baltimore, but based on all the women in the airport, it was significant.
I found a paging phone and requested that they page her to return to the gate. My eyes kept darting around looking for her, but she wasn’t there. She was missing for what seemed like forever. Finally, from somewhere, she emerged, maybe twenty minutes later, acting as if nothing had happened. Why did she get off the plane? The guy next to her smelled, and she felt like she might barf.
With our flight gone and no other options, I booked a room at an airport hotel. Before leaving the airport, I talked us onto a Southwest flight the next day at no additional charge. Without luggage, we bought the essentials at the hotel gift shop. Honestly, I’m not sure which of us picked out the Maryland-themed, “I’m Crabby,” nightshirt for my wife that she proudly wore for years. We ate dinner at the hotel that evening.
No harm, no foul, right? Hardly.
Twenty-Five Years Later
Twenty-five years hence, I still suffer from missing-in-a-crowd panic attacks.
For years, I didn’t even know what they were. I just knew I’d frequently experience intense anxiety in crowded public settings. What would happen if she disappeared? I’d gather clues in advance that I might need to imagine where she’d disappeared to and where to look. I still scan crowds for anything that might make her bolt, even if she isn’t with me.
The anxiety has grown through the years as she’s tried to exit or has disappeared in multiple settings. She tried to bolt from a cab in downtown Chicago and one in Manhattan. She stormed out of a hotel in Milwaukee with me chasing after her; that turned into a late night, exit-by-exit search for a hotel with a vacancy during another NASCAR weekend. She’s disappeared in stores multiple times and left a dinner theatre performance unannounced (I discovered that she’d left from one of the employees in the lobby).
I’m on eggshells in public settings. She’s fine.
I mean, if someone is up for bolting without any previous indication from a plane that’s minutes from taking off, where wouldn’t that individual vanish from a situation whose consequences pale in comparison?
I never know for certain.
That’s the story of one triggering episode in my life.
There are at least forty or fifty other triggering episodes (maybe more) that I contend with across a spectrum of life activities.
Seriously.
No wonder my anxiety has been through the roof for so long.
Does any of this sound familiar to you?
Do you find yourself getting anxious in situations that used to not bother you? Have you dug a little bit to consider why you are getting so anxious?
Even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal, I’ve learned that this isn’t something that people normally face. Something else is at work.
It’s time that you do the exploring to learn what’s going on.
If you are in a similar situation, I’m publishing content along my journey to healing as I make progress. Subscribe to get an email as I share new articles.
