AT MY WITS END

At some point, I became aware that I should and could begin to manage my anxiety moment to moment by claiming it, rather than assigning the blame to Andrew’s illness or some other hapless family member, usually John.

I felt like my years of projecting my anxiety onto Andrew and other family members was all I was able to do at the time, but it simply wasn't working any more.

While this felt like I was managing the situation, I was making it worse by expecting Andrew to be or do what I thought was best.

          Instead, I was actually blindly ensuring that all my energy was tied up in being anxious, angry and tired. It became untenable. I was at my wits end. Something had to give.