I'm trying to write a happy and poignant scene for Stolen Heritage, but for some damn reason I am completely consumed with angsty writing desires not at all conducive to what I am supposed to be writing... It's not that great, but I really needed the purge.
Please read, or where I'm coming from might not make sense:
Kaoru as a character is remarkable in her ability to love, without reservation, people that others would never consider loving: a homeless veteran with PTSD, a traumatized orphan, an emotionally scarred thug, a freed prisoner/drug manufacturer. Loving someone with problems like these is often difficult, and that's a fact.
Please know that suffering from an anxiety disorder is not a reflection on your loved ones, or your surroundings, or even how happy you are with your life. It is a reflection of your own state of mental illness (and it is a mental illness, not a weakness). Anxiety disorders are an internal and personal struggle, aided by adequate rest, routine, lack of stress, and control of one's environment.
Setting: post canon, pre wedding.
Kaoru ran a gentle finger of the rim of the lovely little bowl; she had spotted them at a little stall near the Akabeko on her way home from a wedding planning session with Tae. The bowls were a nice set of six, obviously for festive occasions, glazed a pretty blue with delicate hand-painted blossoms. Their current set was mismatched and chipped, as side effect of her raucous student and Sano's eating habits. Kaoru looked up and began a fierce negotiation with the vendor.
Once home, she sneaked into the kitchen, Kenshin's domain, to put them away. She eyed the limited shelf space and frowned; there wasn't room. It took a fair bit of rearranging, but she managed to get everything safely put away. She stepped back, admiring the little bowls again, smiled proudly. Won't Kenshin be pleased!
The wedding planning, with it's requisite chaos and frequent visitors, had been a little hard on him. It wasn't cold feet; she knew without a trace of doubt that Kenshin was happy to be getting married, was happy to be with her. No, it was that Kenshin positively reveled in domestic routine, and the coming wedding had disrupted nearly every day for the past frantic four weeks. Kaoru knew that he'd been stressed by the disturbance, and the tension in his shoulders and set of his mouth transmitted an anxiety that not even the ever-present rurouni smile could hide. Hopefully her pretty little surprise would bring him pleasure.
Kaoru left the kitchen with a light heart.
Kenshin met her in the hall, and smiled for her. "You seem happy this evening, Kaoru-dono."
"Yes!" Kaoru smiled broadly. "It's a nice day," she briefly brushed against his side as she passed by him, tangling their fingers together for the barest moment. A glance over her shoulder revealed that his smile had softened into something more genuine before he turned towards the kitchen, and Kaoru hummed a happy little tune.
She combed out her hair for dinner, tying it back into one her favorite ribbons, then began work on the wedding decorations; there was only another two weeks to go, and still so much to do.
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An hour later, Kaoru pushed the tedious work away and rose, stretching stiff legs and shaking out a numb foot. Maybe Kenshin would like some help finishing up dinner.
In the hallway, she frowned; there wasn't the usual smells of merrily cooking dinner. In the kitchen, she gasped and pressed her fingers to her mouth. "Kenshin?" No meal was cooking and Kenshin was on his hands and knees, fiercely scrubbing the floor, the contents of every shelf choatically heaped on the counters. He looked beyond stressed; he looked manic. She took a small step forward. "Kenshin?" He silently shook his head and kept scrubbing. She sank to her knees, extending a hand towards him, not quite touching. "Kenshin, what's wrong?"
He flinched away from her, and when he spoke his voice was low and tight. "Please, Kaoru-dono... wait in the dining room. This one will prepare dinner soon."
Kaoru lowered her hand, sat back on her heels, and again pressed a hand to her mouth. For a few moments, she just watched him work at scrubbing an already gleaming kitchen, then silently rose and left the room.
She sat alone in the dining room for hours, listening to Kenshin clean and re-clean the kitchen, as night fell outside. At some point, she'd cried as quietly as she could, knowing that this was her fault, that she never should have intruded in a place that he considered his own, that she was responsible for pushing calm, strong Kenshin right over the edge into... whatever this was. It was nearly nine o'clock before Kenshin emerged from the kitchen, hands chapped raw from vinegar and harsh soap, the knees of his hakama soaked, his hair a mess, and his face hidden behind his bangs.
He sat silently at the table across from her, his gaze focused down onto his reddened hands. "I'm sorry, Kaoru-dono." His voice was hoarse.
Kaoru shook her head and leaned forward. "No! No, it's my fault, Kenshin, I'm sorry! I just thought that they were pretty, and that you would like them, and-"
"There is nothing to apologize for." He finally looked up, and Kaoru's throat clenched at the mix of anger and shame in his face. "The bowls are nice, and you only rearranged a shelf... it's... I-" He looked down. "They are just bowls... This one is foolish."
Kaoru shuffled around to his side of the table. "You are not foolish, Kenshin." She reached out hesitantly, and when he did not pull away, she rested a hand on his shoulder, leaning close. "I shouldn't have intruded in your space; you ask very little." He was silent, and feeling a little desperate, Kaoru leaned forward completely, and rested her forehead against him. There was another moment of stillness and then he abruptly turned, pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, both hands fisted in the back of her kimono.
"This one does not deserve you, Kaoru-dono," his voice was muffled against her neck.
Kaoru wrapped her arms firmly around him. "You deserve everything, Kenshin... It's okay. You're okay." She whispered reassuring nonsense into his hair until his hands loosened their grip and he pulled away.
He looked at her through his bangs. "There is leftover onigiri if you're hungry."
"That sounds nice." Kaoru curled her fingers around his own, and his smile was tired and tentative and grateful; she found it beautiful.
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(I'm posting an edit as Melay is a guest and can't receive a PM.)
With anxiety disorders, a personal struggles with anxiety on a daily, hourly, minute by minute basis. (PTSD is an anxiety disorder.) Routine soothes anxiety; the wedding has disrupted Kenshin's routine. The wedding is a serious life change, and even happy changes are stressful. And finally, a person suffering from anxiety finds reassurance in control. Kenshin controls the daily routine of the Kamiya dojo; not in a domineering way, but in a 'this is my area, I keep it clean, I keep it organized in a way that makes me comfortable. The kitchen is mine and it is kept the way that I want.' Cooking a meal or keeping a garden is a soothing, an action in which an individual control the variables and directs the outcome.
When anxiety begins to build, a person begins holding on to themselves by their very fingernails, willing themself to stay calm, to stay in control. When a person's anxiety spikes, often by an assault on one of their coping techniques (Kaoru's well-intentioned but disastrous rearranging of Kenshin's safest space) a person may compulse. (I found this most likely for Kenshin; I cannot see him freezing, nor lashing out)
A compulsion, like cleaning, soothes anxiety by re-exerting control. It is involuntary, something a person must do, and generally occurs when someone's anxiety reaches a level at which mere willpower is not enough. The compulsion will not stop until the anxiety is soothed to acceptable levels.
It is often embarrassing in the extreme, a physical manifestation of a mental illness, most of which carry stigma. Many people with anxiety disorders feel that they burden people with their uncontrollable actions.
Anxiety disorders, like all mental illness, are a difficult and ongoing struggle, both for the person that suffers, and the people that love them.
