Let the new fresh hell begin….

Last day of school. Bex and I went to her end of school picnic. All that sunshine and kids in bright colors was about to give me a brain bleed. Bex is recovering from a week of overstimulation. Tonight we brave my brother’s high school graduation. I am not looking forward to it. I don’t do unfamiliar places and large crowds with any grace. And the spawn is going with, so it should prove to be living hell.

All week Spook has been in prime brat mode. Like a machine gun to my fucking brain. I am so sick of the “kids will be kids” argument. NO. My kid is outside the boundaries with me. At home she is one person. When she is out and has an adoring audience, she is another. The questions never end. The tantrums never end. The defiance never ends. My nerves are already frayed and I am just now embarking on three months of 24-7 of this shit. I have a feeling my Xanax stash is gonna be hit very hard. Yesterday was so bad with her, it literally drove me to drink.

She is dividing her smothering technique between me and Bex. Every time Becca gets out her ipad, Spook is in her face, distracting her, driving her nuts. At one point she literally said enough and went to her room to escape. I sent Spook to her room until I calmed down then I went and gave a stern lecture. She just kept sticking her tongue out at me, an inch from my face. Those who think I have no impulse control are bloody fucking morons. Every time she turns the defiance up to ten and I don’t eat my young…That’s hella impulse control.

On the plus side…Now I have someone who has witnessed the flip side to my little angel everyone else sees only the well behaved side of. Now I have someone who knows I am not being a bitch, not exaggerating, not trying to make my kid look bad by complaining about little things. This is 99% of our time. I live for the rare days she is manageable.

The other day I said something to the extent of “Four year olds are essentially bipolar” because of the way Spook will be bawling and telling me I am mean one minute then climbing on me and telling me I am the best mom ever. So I am trying to view her behavior as others view my illness. She’s just being a kid and kids are basically sociopaths without social conditioning. Not really her fault. (I lie on that one because I do hold her accountable for some things.,) I think of how pretty much everyone in my life has abandoned me because they confuse my disorder with my personality. Rather than think, “This is typical of bipolar, it will pass and it’s not personal,” They can’t wait to take it personally and dismiss me as some unpleasable misanthrope.

I don’t want to cast my kid in the role of lost cause when she is just being a kid to a large extent. The dividing line for me is the fact she knows how to behave at school and for others. And she does it. Yet with me, suddenly she doesn’t know or forgot or simply wants to drive me to jump off a bridge. The counselor needs to spend 24 hours in my shoes. Her divine patience, education, and experience wouldn’t mean shit when faced with Tasmanian Spook. But then again, my kid doesn’t act that way when there are witnesses. She must think she can manipulate Bex and therefore she can act out around her.

The counselor says Spook is pushing boundaries. I think she has some sort of selective oppositional defiance disorder. I say go play outside, suddenly she doesn’t want to. I tell her no, you can’t, she has an hour long tantrum insisting she wants to go out. I feed her apple slices, she doesn’t like them. The school gives them to her, she loves them. It’s maddening and I don’t think at nearly 5 it is totally normal.But what do I know. The problem is apparently all me, according to the counselor.

And i think while she may have good ideas and some logic, she is also full of shit buying into Spook’s angelic act.

Moodwise…It’s not been so bad since the other night. I am hoping the split and increase in Paxil will make a difference on the night time crashes. Anxiety is off the charts, though. All these outings are wearing me down. Too much. People, kids, sunshine, heat. It’s got me on edge.

The beauty part though is, after 30 years of absolutely loathing others and waiting with bated breath for them to go away, especially if in my home and personal space..I have found the one person who does not make me feel threatened. I have no problem with her helping herself to food or tv or stereo. (Normally such things send me into meltdown.) We have space, we have companionship. No arguments. It is an amazing thing to spend your entire life feeling so alone because no one gets you and then…you find someone who pretty much does and likes you anyway. I’ve been told so many times “You don’t like anyone, you can’t be made happy.” No I’ve just spent all my life surrounded by people who don’t get mental illness and don’t do a goddamn thing to help make it suck less.

Now I have someone who does.

It makes a difference. It doesn’t cure but it does help. I hope she feels the same way because I really hate when people say one thing to spare my feelings when they mean the opposite. I would never want to make anyone miserable. Well, maybe some people who are assholes to me. I’m petty that way.

Now…back to the Uzi to the brain. I love her madly but honestly, there should be mommy time outs. Five, ten mins to regroup, go back to having my brain turned into swiss cheese by her verbal chatter bullets and screaming mimis. Rinse, lather, repeat. I know I am the mom, I am supposed to be more mature, blah blah blah.

I still want my fucking time out. And a kevlar helmet would be nice, though I doubt even kevlar would useful against Spook. πŸ˜‰


2 Responses to “Let the new fresh hell begin….”

  1. I may be mild mannered, and quiet and today kinda subdued but I have in you found the other part of me. I have long suspected it but I had no idea it would work out so well between us. I have done well to endure constant company for four days.

    Spook is relentless and yes she can be a major pest, but I am here to ride the hell-i-go round with you as part of a tag team. Thank you for being you, and thank you for allowing me to be me for the last 12 years. I love you dude x

  2. I am so glad for you (and envious) that you have someone in your life who “gets” you. Some solace, right? πŸ˜‰

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