Remember that sensation I mentioned of having something caught in my throat? I’ve learned two things about it. One, it’s called globus sensation (thank you C) and I think in my case is definitely psychosomatic. Two, I strongly suspect it’s something to do with guilt. I am quite literally consumed with guilt at the moment, about everything. It’s the driving force in my life, my main motivator and equally my main source of self loathing.
I was in flying form this morning, absolutely flying. I was supremely efficient in work, met a friend for tea, came home in great form. But then I got home. Apparently I’m currently capable of being only one thing at a time. So I can be me, or a wife, or a mother. At a push, I can be two of these, most likely me and mother. But all three at once? No chance. Poor Hubby met with a diatribe earlier. Within minutes of getting home I was in shocking form – irritable, quick to anger, and completely paralysed with indecision about what to do and where to put myself. When I eventually got it together to talk to Hubby about it, what came out was a jumbled, frantic monologue – I don’t know what to do with myself at the moment when we’re all here together because I’m so conscious that he isn’t in the best of form with his back, so I feel like I should be doing everything that needs doing with the kids. But then if he’s doing something with them, what do I do? Should I clean? Walk the dogs? Well I can’t do that because that’s just irresponsible, I know he isn’t feeling great so why should I get time to myself? I should be spending more time with my kids. I’m spending too much time with them, I should get them to go outside and play. I’ve forced them outside, I’m neglecting them, I should be doing something more creative with them. Why am I forcing Hubby to be in charge? He’s off on sick leave, it’s my job to be present in the afternoons, so that’s what I should be doing. But now he’s pissed off with me with being stressy and crap, it’s all my fault, everything’s a mess, I feel like I’m choking………….. and on, and on, and on.
So I went for a walk. I didn’t want to, because, shock horror, I felt guilty (let’s just leave aside for a minute the fact that the dogs actually need walking daily or they go cracked and he’s physically incapable of doing it right now).
|One of my favourite walking spots, the Owenriff in Oughterard|
Did I feel better afterwards? Briefly, but then I didn’t know what to do when I got home again. Kids? Clean? Something productive and worthy? Or just relax??
The whole afternoon and evening continued this way, interspersed with my apologising regularly for being completely batshit before going and losing it again for no apparent reason. This guilt is horrendous. It serves no purpose, but I can’t shake it. Actually, no, that’s not 100% true. While being a monumental pain in my ass, it is serving one very important purpose. It’s stopping me from hurting myself again, because the thought of the stress and upset that would cause is more than I can handle. Hardly the best motivator though.
But what to do with it? Where to put it? How to get rid of it? No clue. I’m to see my/a psychiatrist tomorrow, I guess it would be a good plan to tell them about all this.