That's what happened to me for a few weeks when I allowed myself to become immersed in Devin's shifted addiction that has now been clarified by our counselor as possible OCD. (Clarified to me, not to him). I lost my serenity, my peace, my calm.
"I look at my recovery and his recovery as two separate boxes in my mind. Big ass brown packing boxes. Mine is worn and frayed from constant use. Sometimes the contents are scattered all over the ground while I'm busy working on myself. Then I pack them up neatly and put them back until the next day. My SA's box gets opened once a week without fail but the edges are still brand new, no wear and tear. I've learned to accept that but it took a long time to stop trying to dust off his box, take out the tools and show them to him myself. If he's going to the meetings, he knows they are in there."
I searched deep in that box too, but, to no avail, my serenity, my peace and my calm were gone! Suddenly it occurred to me! I keep them so close to hand all the time, they must be where I keep my credit card and ID card when I'm in a hurry at the gas station or food shopping; my back pocket.
Bingo! There they were! Happily, I reached in and took them out embraced each and every one of them again. Once I did, I was able to step back away from Devin's chaos and notice something very strange. It ain't so chaotic anymore.
The budget has been done. He's come to me for FANOS. He's talked of the noise quieting in his brain. He's going to the gym. He's connecting with our son. The meds are working.
I embrace my my serenity, peace and calm and remain cautiously optimistic.