I posted this on facebook this morning – ‘I feel guilty from the tips of my hair to my toenails and everything in between. Why? Because I gave out to my kids for having pretty much everything they own scattered through the downstairs of my house, asked them to help me put it away and then had the audacity to sweep a carpet of dog hair off the floor. Why all this guilt? Because somewhere along the line I picked up the message that cleaning house = neglecting children and by not spending all my time actively interacting with them I’m a failure as a mother’. Unfortunately, that is the merest tip of the iceberg in terms of what I’m feeling right now.
I am ready to give up. 110% ready. The anger, the guilt, the phenomenally quick emotional changes – I cannot keep up anymore. I don’t want one more person to tell me they believe in me, or that they know I can do, or that I just need to forgive myself and move on. I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. And I know all that. But, and here’s the clanger – I cannot do it. End of. I just can’t. It’s compounding an already overwhelming sense of failure. I am exhausted. I don’t want to shout at my kids any more. I don’t want to believe that Hubby is the root cause of all of this and act accordingly. I don’t want to shout at myself any more. I don’t want to hurt myself any more. It is too hard and it’s wearing me down. For the last two days I’ve had to resort to the emergency calming drugs that I swore I’d never touch again because the level of emotion swirling around me is too strong.
|I haven’t actually smashed a painting over his head but I’m an utter nightmare to live with right now, I’m so completely unpredictable|
Is this depression? Is it just me? I have no clue, and no idea how to figure that out. Maybe I’m just a really, really angry person. But the anger went away while I was on medication. The lows didn’t, but the anger did. I’m due to see Therapist in the morning, and will be checking in with my GP afterwards, because this simply cannot continue. I’m destroying myself, and feel almost powerless to stop it. I’ve tried, my god have I tried. But I need hours upon hours completely alone every day in order to get a handle on this. I can’t have that. I have kids, Hubby, a full time job – in short real life. I have a piece on thejournal.ie today, based on my traffic lights post. I’m bright flaming red, there’s no escaping it. All the signs are there. If I knew someone else was in the same position, what would I be saying to them? Get help. Get help now. Well right now this minute isn’t going to work out as it’s Paddy’s day and most of the country is pissed, but tomorrow I can do something. Tomorrow I have to do something. I agreed with Therapist last week that I would put a deadline on this experiment, and in theory that deadline is next Friday. Caveat? If things get unbearable the deadline is null and void. Well, things are officially unbearable. I want my life back. I want to stop not just hating, but actively despising myself. I want to be able to speak to myself the way I can speak to others I know are struggling. As it is, I would quite possibly be arrested if I treated someone the way I’m currently treating myself.
So, here’s the new plan. Get through today, by whatever means possible. See Therapist in the morning. See my GP after. And then change something. Change anything. But this has to stop.