I have lost it. I am so completely out of control that I feel like I am suffocating. My chest hurts, it’s so hard to breathe. My eyes are filling up with tears that I wont let fall. I am broken.

The last 45 minutes I have relived a hell I have lived over and over again for month now, night after night. Nothing ever changes and the patterns repeat themselves over, and over, and over again. I’m living in a hell right now that I can’t make my way out of and my husband will not help.

I’m all mixed up. I am so depressed that I can hardly do anything. I have this beautiful new home, 4 amazing kids, and a pretty good life. So why is it so crushing? I don’t get it. I live heartbroken and anxious. I dread every single day. I don’t want to do anything. Even my normal every day routines feel impossible. Packing lunches, laundry, baths, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, cleaning, it’s all so normal but so hard. I can’t do anything.

My last post was pretty detailed in my woes (plenty of whining) and between writing that and writing this I have collapsed into a very dark and horrible place. I want to curl up into bed and stay there until it passes. Tempting, but not an option. So what do I do?

After reading the overwhelming amount of responses to my previous post (thanks everyone!) I felt a little better. It opened my eyes to see how much I do, and how much I shouldn’t have to do. It was a revealing day for me, and I have put a lot of thought into all the advice and support I received from my followers. However, I am even more frustrated and hurt than ever.

We went to watch football Saturday night and it was disasterous to say the very least. It is a sports bar we are regulars at, we have a group and we all get together and watch football on Saturdays and have for about 3 years now. We are friends with the owners and all of the staff and going there on Saturdays has always proven to be emotionally refreshing.

We were approached by staff on Saturday badgered and bullied. It is complicated and a long story, but basically the staff doesn’t appreciate our relationship with one of the owners. One girl was so pissed she decided to tell another owner a blatant lie. He confronted me on it and I got into a full screaming match with a guy a foot taller than me and at least 75 lbs larger than me.

Apparently, with all my bravery, I was walking around the bar to different tables telling customers not to come back because the service is horrible. Say what?!? I have severe social anxiety, I couldn’t do such a thing if I wanted to! I was horrified. Anyway I got into a screaming match with one of the owners while the whole bar watched. I was in tears by the time I walked away, shaking and hysterical. One of the managers was able to calm me down before I left, but the effects of that event are still with me. I’m a mess.

So after our game my husband still wanted to hang with one of his friends at another bar and I did not want to go, so I sent him on his way and went home alone. He was way too eager to leave and stay the night with his buddy. Whatever. When I was laying in bed it was a real eye opener for me. Then I couldn’t believe he went. I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

So the night was typical, kids having me up a couple times and getting up in the morning with kids to do breakfast and all the typical morning stuff. I drive up to pick him up (45 minutes away) and bring him home. The whole day was crappy. I really watched what was happening and paid close attention to how much I did and how little he did. Granted he is in school close to full time and works full time, but I am suffocating and need help and he wont give much.

Sunday night was the same, me dealing with the kids trying to get them in bed. When I think they are settled I go to bed, and repeatedly (as every night) have to get up to shuffle the baby back into bed. Twelve times I had to get up to get him to go back to bed. My husband, he got up once before passing out at 10:30. I continued this until 1 am before I finally was able to go to sleep. Good thing here is when my daughter wet the bed my husband helped her out, because I refused to budge when she came in. Well, I guess that good deed entitled him to sleep in two extra hours this morning while I got up this morning to get the kids to school.

The one constant is that I am dealing with it all. Today he did pitch in more. I am not sure if it’s because I just didn’t do everything or if it was because he knew I was pissed off, but he at least warmed corn dogs for dinner and helped my daughter with homework.

Our evening routine repeated itself. My husband yelling at the kids (from his chair) to be quiet so we could relax. When he headed upstairs at 7:45 he yelled at them again to get into bed and hurried to bed himself. I once again spent a solid 45 minutes arguing with kids, dealing with bedtime snacks, diaper changes, and a crying autistic 3 year old. I actually counted tonight, 18 times I had to fuss at them. Thats 17 too many.

I had a full panic attack and lost my mind. The little one wouldn’t stay in his bed and kept going to my daughters bed. I got fed up, yanked him out of his bed and dragged him (to my own horror and disbelief) to his room as he screamed, yelled, kicked and fought. I carried him up the steps to his bed and tossed him into bed and told him not to get up.

He laid there and cried for 15 minutes. He did not get back up, but I wanted to cry right along with him.

What the hell is happening to me? I’m a freaking monster! What kind of mother throws her 3 year old into bed? Who the hell am I? I wasn’t even angry or hostile. I was in a full panic attack.

I don’t know how to stop heading down a road I know is so dangerous. I mentioned I needed a weekend away, and my husband says “not before I get one.” I guess that set the tone.

I hate myself.

 


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From Psych Central's website:
PsychCentral (October 9, 2012)

From Psych Central's website:
PsychCentral (October 9, 2012)






    Last reviewed: 8 Oct 2012

APA Reference
Anonymous. (2012). Who Have I Become? I Am So Scared. Psych Central. Retrieved on August 22, 2014, from http://blogs.psychcentral.com/bipolar-mom/2012/10/who-have-i-become-i-am-so-scared/

 

 

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