William Shakespeare once said, "Men in rage strike those that wish them best." The same can be said of a certain stressed out, bipolar mommy.
Now I've never, ever laid a hand on Punkin' Butt. I'll admit there have been times when it was close and I had to just walk away, regardless of what she was doing "wrong." I say "wrong" because usually when I get that angry with her, it has nothing to do with her. Sure, she may not have been listening (again), but the real reason lies in me.
Rage strikes me when I least expect it, although I really should be expecting it. It's usually been building - irritability; rapid heart beat; feeling flushed; a headache in my right temple - and I've just ignored or not noticed the signs. When I'm starting to feel manic like that, rage doesn't need much of a reason to show itself.
There are several things that trigger me. Hunger is always a biggie. Boredom tends to make me manic and irritable. But I think my biggest trigger is noise. We can only run one major appliance in our house at a time. I can't run the dishwasher, washing machine and dryer all at the same time. My brain can not handle that much noise. It's just something I've come to accept and learned to deal with.
But there are times when I push it. I wait too long to eat; I don't plan out my day well enough; the house gets too loud. I start to feel manic. Then something goes "wrong." And the person usually doing "wrong" is Punkin' Butt. Throwing a temper tantrum, pulling the cat's tail (again), even just getting in my way as I'm stomping through the house. This is when I lose it.
When I lose it, I yell. A lot, and very loudly. And I find it hard to stop. No one is excused - PB, The Bearded One, our poor old cat. I'm mean. I tell people (and animals) to shut up. Yes, even my 2 1/2 year old little girl. I've told her to go away, to get out of my face, to leave me the hell alone. All in a very loud, very angry way.
It scares the shit out of me every time.
It's scary to lose control that fast, that violently. And it's scary to tell you that it even happens. I'm always instantly apologetic and ashamed at my behavior. What kind of monster screams at their baby? Because, yes, this started years ago. And I don't ever let myself forget a single time it's happened.
Punkin' Butt doesn't seem to have suffered any long term effects, thank the lords. And half the time she laughs at me when I yell at her. But it's the times when she looks at me with fear in her eyes that trouble me the most. I wonder if I've scarred her for life.
Thankfully, those time are becoming fewer and farther between. I'm learning to control my anger and how to read the signs long before things come to a head. There's a lot more laughter in our house than there used to be. And I'm learning to forgive myself for past transgressions.
But a part of me will always carry guilt for the way I've treated her. My therapist says that's not healthy. I think it's the way it has to be. If I didn't feel the guilt, how would I remember to behave better? And how could I not feel guilty? My daughter deserves to be treated better than that, and the guilt I will always feel is a daily reminder of how not to treat this precious person.
Showing posts with label rage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rage. Show all posts
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Anxiety - The Faceless Fear
Heart racing. Palms sweaty. Frantically trying to fix - what? Fix what? Nothing's wrong, but something's wrong. Everything's wrong and it has to be fixed, solved, something, right NOW. Pacing, starting a project, starting another project. Fearful. Racing thoughts, irritability, nothing seems to be working. What is wrong with me?
Anxiety
It's a panic attack. And I'm not alone in this. According to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), nearly 40 million adults in America (that's roughly 18% of the population) suffer from some type of anxiety disorder. Nice to know I'm not the only one, but not very comforting when in the throes of an attack.
Fear and Function
Everyone experiences anxiety from time to time - when speaking in public, before a big test, etc - and that's perfectly normal. It's when the anxiety persists over a long period of time, seemingly stemming from nothing in particular, that it becomes a problem. When the anxiety is so strong that it interferes with your ability to function normally, it's time to get help.
My Anxiety
My anxiety ebbs and flows along with the rest of my bipolar moods. And when it's really flowing, it can send me into a manic state if I don't catch it in time. Yesterday was one of the times I didn't.
I have started to notice that around 3 o'clock every afternoon, I start feeling anxious. I start desperately trying to fill the time with mindless chores until it's time to start supper. But that just feeds the fear, gives it more to worry about. When busy work doesn't help, I try distraction, but my mind's moving so fast that I can't pay attention to anything. Finally, I try controlling it. I make lists, charts, anything to try to rationalize and neatly contain the fear. But my mind is so out of sync with itself that nothing seems to work the way I want it too.
That's when anger sets in, and my anger quickly turns to rage. By this point I can no longer function and have to remove myself from the situation to try to calm down. Anti-anxiety medication, a hot shower, meditation. I go through my list of coping skills until something works. Sometimes just being held helps.
Breakthrough
Today, though, I had a breakthrough. It was after dinner and I had been feeling panicky for a couple of hours. I kept doing all the wrong things, trying to fight through it and only making it worse. Then The Bearded One called and said he was going to be late, which was the last thing I needed to hear. But instead of snapping, I stopped. I just stopped, and sat, and breathed. Long, slow, deep breaths, just like my therapist has told me a hundred times.
And as I breathed, my heart beat slowed, my thoughts calmed. The fear slowly drained away. The irritability that had been gnawing at my head was gone. I had done it. I got myself through a panic attack without anyone's help.
Enough
That's when I realized that I am enough. I really am. I am good enough, strong enough, to get well and stay well. I still need the love and support of friends and family, but I finally realized that when it comes down to it, I can be enough for me. All by myself. And I am so proud.
Anxiety
It's a panic attack. And I'm not alone in this. According to the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), nearly 40 million adults in America (that's roughly 18% of the population) suffer from some type of anxiety disorder. Nice to know I'm not the only one, but not very comforting when in the throes of an attack.
Fear and Function
Everyone experiences anxiety from time to time - when speaking in public, before a big test, etc - and that's perfectly normal. It's when the anxiety persists over a long period of time, seemingly stemming from nothing in particular, that it becomes a problem. When the anxiety is so strong that it interferes with your ability to function normally, it's time to get help.
My Anxiety
My anxiety ebbs and flows along with the rest of my bipolar moods. And when it's really flowing, it can send me into a manic state if I don't catch it in time. Yesterday was one of the times I didn't.
I have started to notice that around 3 o'clock every afternoon, I start feeling anxious. I start desperately trying to fill the time with mindless chores until it's time to start supper. But that just feeds the fear, gives it more to worry about. When busy work doesn't help, I try distraction, but my mind's moving so fast that I can't pay attention to anything. Finally, I try controlling it. I make lists, charts, anything to try to rationalize and neatly contain the fear. But my mind is so out of sync with itself that nothing seems to work the way I want it too.
That's when anger sets in, and my anger quickly turns to rage. By this point I can no longer function and have to remove myself from the situation to try to calm down. Anti-anxiety medication, a hot shower, meditation. I go through my list of coping skills until something works. Sometimes just being held helps.
Breakthrough
Today, though, I had a breakthrough. It was after dinner and I had been feeling panicky for a couple of hours. I kept doing all the wrong things, trying to fight through it and only making it worse. Then The Bearded One called and said he was going to be late, which was the last thing I needed to hear. But instead of snapping, I stopped. I just stopped, and sat, and breathed. Long, slow, deep breaths, just like my therapist has told me a hundred times.
And as I breathed, my heart beat slowed, my thoughts calmed. The fear slowly drained away. The irritability that had been gnawing at my head was gone. I had done it. I got myself through a panic attack without anyone's help.
Enough
That's when I realized that I am enough. I really am. I am good enough, strong enough, to get well and stay well. I still need the love and support of friends and family, but I finally realized that when it comes down to it, I can be enough for me. All by myself. And I am so proud.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Blah
No new words of wisdom tonight. It's been a pretty rough afternoon, full of mania and rage. And when you come down from mania and rage it's usually with a resounding "thud." All the volatile energy is spent in one fell swoop, leaving you empty and hollow. My brain is barely focusing on even this short post right now. So I'm off to color (one of the world's greatest stress relievers) and then snuggle on the couch with The Bearded One. Here's hoping tomorrow brings peace.
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