Again, don't read this post if you might judge me about anything I say here.
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As you know, yesterday was doctor day. In the morning, we started by having breakfast out with A's grandparents. It is always lovely to see them and spend time with them. After I had to remove Little A from the restaurant briefly at the beginning of our meal, she behaved rather well for the remainder. After breakfast, we ran some errands and then I dropped the girls off with A's parents for mass before heading to my first appointment - with my therapist, Dr. D.
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This is where you might not want to read. For those of you who are going to worry or fret over my mental state or judge me for even feeling this way, then DO NOT READ THIS.
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I started by telling Dr. D that I'm barely hanging on. She asked me to explain and I told her that I've been feeling like I hear the ticking and I just don't know how much time before the bomb goes off and I fall into a million tiny pieces. That my emotions feel like I'm just on the verge of losing control, that as the minutes pass, my control wanes and I am feeling like that fine thread that's holding me together is getting more and more stretched to it's limit, with little fibers popping and fraying with each minute. (can you picture that? a rope being slowly pulled apart? imagine that I am down to one last thread of that rope with the fibers of the thread slowly pulling off from the tension.) It is as if I see it in slow motion. As if I see the bomb wrapped around me, can hear it ticking, but can't see the numbers on the clock....
I started by telling Dr. D that I'm barely hanging on. She asked me to explain and I told her that I've been feeling like I hear the ticking and I just don't know how much time before the bomb goes off and I fall into a million tiny pieces. That my emotions feel like I'm just on the verge of losing control, that as the minutes pass, my control wanes and I am feeling like that fine thread that's holding me together is getting more and more stretched to it's limit, with little fibers popping and fraying with each minute. (can you picture that? a rope being slowly pulled apart? imagine that I am down to one last thread of that rope with the fibers of the thread slowly pulling off from the tension.) It is as if I see it in slow motion. As if I see the bomb wrapped around me, can hear it ticking, but can't see the numbers on the clock....
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So, then we start talking about what's going on. We talk about my brother, we talk about court and my stepbrothers... We talk about my physical health and the possible loss/miscarriage #6. We talk about my mom. We talk about the grief over my stepdad. We talk about my commitment to my family and my friends. We talk about the new house and the move. We talk about my overwhelming urge to call someone and tell her exactly what I think of her and her tactics to remove me from parts of my own family. And the overwhelming urge to track down my brothers (step and natural, but not including the youngest) and use them as punching bags - and the fact that when I'm doing my workouts, I imagine the face of my stepbrother when I'm doing the kicks and punches - and I punch and kick even harder when it's his face rather than the air....
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She reassures me (she is good at reading between the lines) that my anxiety and depression are situational, that I am not slipping into some lifelong habit or depressive state. She is good at convincing me that if I could just get some regular sleep, I'll start coping with the rest of the stuff better. That if we can just use something temporarily to help me sleep and to take the edge off during the day, I'll start to feel better. And once I am in general feeling better, the anger will subside.
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We decide that I will ask the gyn for a scrip for xan@x to get me through the next month or two. We decide that we'll see each other more frequently so I can put things into perspective more quickly and figure out ways to deal with my depression without beating myself up.
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So, the good news, this is temporary. The bad news is that I have a lot of work to do to once again re-program my brain and get a handle on my anger. I'm also not spanking the girls at all any more (I don't feel like I can do it detachedly, so they have been spending a lot of time in the corner lately.). With my personal history of being abused as a child, it is just safer for me and my children if I don't touch them at all when they do something wrong or defiantly.
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One more thing, if you're the praying type, I could really use some prayers now. Even though we have a plan, I'm still only hanging on by a thread and the ticking hasn't stopped yet, but I know it will - without the subsequent explosion.
