Last night my blood pressure spiked. It was quite high, and I had some pain in my left shoulder. I texted my husband who was downstairs and said that I didn’t feel great. I was worried about what was going on.
My husband came up to bed with the dogs. I showed him where the pain was.
If you read my book, My Courage to Tell, I went into great detail how I was in the hospital three times with extremely high blood pressure a few years ago. It was very scary. My husband and son were so supportive. On my first visit to the hospital, my blood pressure had spiked to 259/135. I have the printout from the hospital. Below is an excerpt from the chapter:
Upon my arrival, the nurse in emergency took my blood pressure. I was immediately admitted and brought into a hospital room. It was chaotic. Doctors were concerned I might have had an aneurysm. They pulled James aside. “If that’s happened, it’s fifty-fifty,” the doctor said. My husband couldn’t believe what he was hearing. I was wheeled away for a CAT scan. When I came back, the doctors asked for my permission to take fluid from my spine. Analyzing the fluid would determine if I’d had an aneurysm. It was the only way to know for sure. I agreed. Thankfully, the tests were negative. The next day, I was released from the hospital.
For anyone reading this who may not know what normal blood pressure reading should be, it should be 120/80. I’m really not sure how I am still alive.
So, last night, I think I had a panic attack. I could feel myself starting to panic and kept trying to think of the present moment.
My husband started to read some things he could find on the internet. “What can I do?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I replied. “I am going to jump in a cold shower.”
Being in Canada, a cold shower is more freezing than you can imagine.
I jumped back into bed.
“Are you okay?” my husband asked.
I started shaking. “I think I feel better,” I replied.
“Don’t let your mind get away from you,” he said. “Just relax.”
The word relax just made me completely settle down. James grabbed my hand, and I felt so much better. He had no idea how much his support and words meant.
“Just nudge me if you need me,” he said in a soft, soothing voice.
I started to drift off to sleep and felt a little better.
Deflection and Projection
My husband is the scapegoat in my family. Yes. My husband is a hockey player, and he is a fighter. He’s tough. And he hates bullies. He detests anyone who hurts animals and would love to meet the people that abused all the animals we’ve rescued.
James, my husband, is a protector that I never had growing up.
But, my husband has been the scapegoat in my family. Why? Because he calls out the truth. He says it with emotion. And guess what, he even gets loud when he does it.
When I did my first podcast with Dr. Berney and Dr. Richard in Florida a few months ago, Dr. Richard said, “I like your husband.” I laughed. I was not expecting that! Both of the psychologists read my book before the podcast.
“There are not too many guys around like him,” Dr. Richard said.
Yes, my husband is my protector, and I am grateful I can see the big picture.
Journaling, visiting my psychologist and meeting my inner child, have all led me to the big picture. I truly understand.
You see, I have learned something vital. A person who intentionally wants to hurt you; deliberately lies to hurt you, and tells everyone else that you are the one with the problem; is the one who has the problem. That’s what I dealt with in my childhood. A bully of the worst kind.
So as the French say: Comprenez vous? Don’t trust everything you see.
Even salt looks like sugar
Toxic family members have said that my husband “controls” me. Let me tell you something — NO ONE controls me. I am as headstrong as they come.
So my advice to those of you who are reading this that may be the “scapegoat” in your family: know who you are.
You are the one that has character. You are the one with the big heart. You are worthy. Do NOT listen to the lies.
Glynis Sherwood, Breaking Free from Being the Family Scapegoat, said:
Accept that you may never have a healthy relationship with your scapegoater(s). This may involve limited or no contact with those who are determined to continue to abuse you. You may experience feelings of grief. Work through the painful feelings, and get support if needed. This pain is much less harmful than continuing to allow yourself to be abused by anyone.