Feral, Fucked Up, Fuckitol

My kid has been feral today. No, I don’t mean she’s acted out. I mean…she had a tantrum for two and a half hours ‘cos the batteries on her LeapPad went dead and she lost a picture she was drawing. I’ve never seen her that bad before. Screaming, growling, kicking, clawing, stomping, hitting walls. (She broke the new clock I bought to replace the last one she broke doing that same thing.) She attacked me physically and verbally. The nicer I was, the worse she got. I took the stellar advice of R’s psychologist daughter, the expert in dealing with difficult children, and wrapped her up in a bear hug in an effort to protect her from herself, as well as shield myself from her thrashing. She kicked my ass. I had her arms and legs under mine, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t twist her head and take a chomp on my arm. She called me names, she bared her teeth, she spat at me…She was feral as any possum I’ve ever seen. Nothing I did worked. Nothing. She tore her room apart throwing stuff. I left her alone and walked away. She kept screaming “leave me alone, liar! I hate you! You’re not my family, grandma is cos she throws me big parties!”

I feared my six year old. I truly did. I was at a loss.

And then abruptly, she comes out, like a different child, and says, “I’m sorry mommy, I love you.” perfectly calm, normal, she picked up all the stuff she threw around her and it was like…a switch being thrown.

It was good for a few hours. Then I declared it bedtime a half hour ago…And bam, the switch was thrown again and she’s back to screaming, bawling, and calling me mean and…

I think she’s bipolar. I hate to say it, she is too fucking young to be labeled and have the life medicated out of her. What I saw today, though, even if it was isolated (the last episode this bad was last summer), scared the hell out of me. She just kept coming at me, nothing I did stopped her. And when she’s not screaming mad or hyper and bouncing off walls, she’s saying shit about “The friends in my head are telling me to do bad things,” or “I wanna die.”  I chalked it up to vivid imagination but…God. I don’t even know. I still think six is too goddamned young to label bipolar and pour meds down their gullet. Whatever chance of normal brain chemistry she stands would be nullified there. Yet I’m her mom so my job is to help her and make sure she doesn’t suffer like I did.

What if she were to “snap”like that at school and decide the kid next to her got a pencil in the eyeball for using green on his picture when she wanted it to be pink? I saw how many “signs” of pediatric bipolar she exhibits and it just makes me ill. Because while being aware of the possibilities and even wary of ADHD, I just never let myself truly research and entertain childhood bipolar. Mainly because since I had her everyone’s lectured me, “Now don’t giving her your mental issues.” Like bipolar is contagious or one can be talked into having it. And for the record, I don’t talk much about suicide even in this blog, let alone out loud so wherever she’s getting *that* shit it ain’t from me.

I just know when I voice my concerns to her pediatrician and the child psychologist they pretty much dismissed me and made it seem like my lack of patience or tolerance for a normal child. What I was subjected to today was not normal. In fact, it was a lot like what I put a lot of people through back in the ‘you’re just depressed, take an anti depressant and go manic’ days. I didn’t have as much rage as she seems to, but then I was never all that hyper and happy-high so could be bipolar one on her side. I dunno. I want to help her. I don’t want to label her. And considering how lousy my own psych care is, who do I entrust to even gauge her behaviors? I’m betting there isn’t a child psych for a thousand miles in this rural area.

It is my sincerest hope I am being an alarmist. My gut tells me no. Unfortunately, until her ped doctor gets on board I can’t do fuck all without a referral to a pediatric pdoc. I think the term ‘managed care’ is simply a euphamism for “consult the magic hate ball because you’re unlikely to get a better answer from the doctor.”

I am frustrated. I am rattled. I am sad. Another kitten died and the third is fading fast, Shade will not care for it and the other mama is rejecting it too. That breaks my fucking heart. Even if the only time the whole day I managed even two tears was when my kid recovered from channeling satan and said, “I don’t want us to ever be apart, mommy.”

One would think being told “I hate you, you’re not my family, you’re mean, you’re stinky” would somehow make a dent in my psyche’s armor. Yet, I felt nothing when she was carrying on. Because I’ve carried on like that myself and it truly means nothing in the long run. When you “go off” rationality is lost. It’s all lost until you ride it out and come back to your senses. And I’ve been insulted way worse than anything she can throw at me, anyway.

No, it was her saying something so sweet after being so evil that yanked my dysfunctional tear ducts awake. (That, and horrormones, those fuckers always turn on the waterworks even if in two tear increments.)

I still can’t believe she went feral like that over a lost picture on a LeapPad. If that’s the case, I should have gone fucking clocktower mass casualty homicidal considering all I lost on my external hard drive the other night. (I can’t even think about it, it makes me sad and furious and I can’t do a fucking thing about it except NEVER BUY ANOTHER SAMSUNG PRODUCT AGAIN.) When she went off like this last time, last summer, it was because she had lice and Bex and I told her she had to have her hair combed out. Neither of us were near her, mind you. We didn’t even have a comb in hand. We just said the words and it was like a switch was thrown. She threw herself in the floor and started thrashing and bawling and screaming and calling us names and hitting us when we got near trying to protect her from hurting her head on the table with her thrashing. Bex even got video of it because the way Spook was carrying on, I was sure the neighbors would think she was being sacrificed to satan.

And I did the same thing today. When it carried on more than ten minutes and calming addressing her failed…I got the camera out. Mind you, I can’t shoot video of myself, obviously, but I got two hours of the audio. I want proof that I didn’t do a thing to harm her. I did everything I’ve been told by the experienced parents and the professionals. None of it worked. And ya know, it wouldn’t work, if she has a legit psych disorder. My goal in taping the audio is so I have something to show to the so called professionals to prove, I’m not transferring, I’m not dramatizing, I am not vilifying my child. THIS happened, and THiS is how I tried to deal with it, so please by all means, tell me how i COULD have handled it.

To show how desperate I was because the child had me so unnerved, I called my stepmonster. She wasn’t home and never called back. So I called my mom. And told her. And yeah, her first question. “What do you do to make her act that way?” I can hardly take responsibility for batteries going dead and the child having an overreaction, I am not that magical, sorry. I am supposed to be able to turn to family for support and yet all I get is judgment and blame. “You can’t LET her get away with that.” Let her? I was holding that child down with both arms, both legs, all my weight as a anchor, and she still managed to flail so she could BITE me. What the fuck? I LET her?

And my mother, so fucking brilliant, gets Spook on speakerphone, wanting to “talk to her”…and here I am thinking, yay, backup, she’s gonna tell the kid how out of line she was…Instead mom starts cooing about, “Are you excited about your  birthday and chuck E Cheese? Oh, so and so will be there, I’m paying for it.”

Never mind these kids aren’t related, aren’t friends of mine, they’re connected to my brother in law and sister and they’re like five years, min, older than Spook, they just want a free party. By all means, force them on me for the sixth straight birthday party. My kid would invite convicted pedophiles, she likes everyone, why not pay for them, too, ffs?

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Needless to say, reaching out to my m0m didn’t do any good. It was poisonous, as usual, no matter how many times I blow sunshine up my own ass and say, “It will be different if I just give her another chance…”

To top it all off, I finally hear from R and he WANTS something. Yeah, go figure. He knows I have an HP netbook and was wanting to see if my power supply would work for one brought into the shop. He says he’s gonna pop over to get it, then in the background his wife overrules that even though he says she can come with, now he demands I bring it in tomorrow. Charming, eh? I’ve got all this other stress going on and now I have to attend to his needs because he can’t stand up to his wife to make a trip that’d take all of five minutes, he wouldn’t even need to get out of the car, I’d bring the cord out to him.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

THIS. This is why he’s my nemesis. If you’ve ever wondered why I go off on a guy who’s so financially generous with the smokes, booze, and gas money…THIS is why. He ignores me, blows off my messages, can’t stand up to his wife, and I’m the one expected to drop everything to meet his demands. I have every right to be pissed and feel used. It’s not just pms or bipolar. Fair play, for fuck’s sake. Sick of kids on the playground who won’t share the goddamned stuffed pegacorn toy with me.

I am exhausted and demoralized. I’ve had my ass kicked in every way today, by my kid, my mom, my so called friend, and even my beloved cat who has basically killed three kittens with sheer neglect. Dear god, when is enough  torment enough? I still gotta survive the birthday party from hell with my momster. I can’t even look forward to my friends (and Spook’s) or even my stepmonster being there as backup because mom is having it at 3 in the afternoon when everyone is working. And she did it on fucking purpose to avoid R and my dad cos she’s a fucking psycho. I wanted it around seven so the working people could make it, but nooo, she’s gotta have it her way so the bums not related or friends with my kid can make it to a free fucking meal.

I already have a time out plan for myself, aside from going out for smokes. Chuck E Cheese is in the same complex as Dollar Tree over in *Xtown* so I will walk over there and look around to kill time, let my mom soak up being better than me by showing love with money spent. Maybe I will even be bored enough to go into Burlington Coat Factory. Not that I won’t spend time with my kid playing games and taking video and pictures. I just won’t be doing it until infinity. I suck that way.

Oh, well, it’s pretty much bedtime. She’s fizzled out so now I can. I got her registered for school even though I had to go in for some stuff, then go on line for the rest and my password wouldn’t work but I was on the wrong site and entered the wrong username six times without noticing because my kid wouldn’t stop looking over my shoulder and rapid firing questions at me…

I am so fucked up right now and it’s all natural. Life fucks ya up better than any alcohol or drug ever could. And unlike the chemical stuff, there is no “sobering” up from life. This is all there is and you have to deal with it.

I’m gonna take a mega dose of fuckitol and hope tomorrow is better.

 

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6 Responses to “Feral, Fucked Up, Fuckitol”

  1. Morgueticia I am so sorry. I went through that with my son. Terrible rage and bipolar also. He was 16, medicated and in a youth facility. Now he is 28, unmedicated and not quite as full of rage, but it is still there. I was young when I got it, but I didn’t have rage with it as a child. Good luck! ❤

  2. I was your child. I am speaking here not as a slightly fucked up mum of three children I am constantly scrutinising for signs that having me as their mum has fucked them up, but as that raging hell-bent child I used to be.
    My process of understanding of myself and my mental health issues is relatively recent, so I only recently recovered from finding out how I truly used to be as a child. As young as three, at least.
    I had such few memories of myself. But when I asked why I was bald in that photo, I was told it was because in one of many fits of rage I had pulled out half my hair, so they shaved it all.
    When I asked why I had a broken arm, I realised it was because of my manic episodes leading me to climb the highest trees, and occasionally falling.

    Fast forward to a little later (5) and I remember the rages I threw at my parents, my mum’s reaction, my dad’s reactions. Their hurtful words to me. It is all coming back very slowly.
    The truth is, they, just like friends and loved ones in my young adulthood, could not be expected to know what to do.
    As I saw what I was more clearly as first I wondered “why the hell didn’t they DO something!!! I would if any of my children were acting like I was!”, then I realised, that they really couldn’t.

    I can only tell you what I remember about my feelings regarding my parents: I believe the rage was caused by my feeling powerless for their own unhappiness. I felt their behaviour to each other was tearing them apart but I didn’t understand it, or speak of it of course (we never spoke in our family). I was angry for not being able to help them. I felt them and saw them hurting and I didn’t know what to do about it, so I tore myself up from the inside instead.

    I don’t know if this will help with your daughter. I feel sure that she loves you, I feel sure you are the most important thing in the world to her, and I am sure she knows/feels what’s going on with you far, far more than you might realise, and she wishes she could do more to help you.
    Or it might be something completely different.
    I am just trying to say that your love for her actually shines through fiercely.
    I’m sorry if this is confusing, I find it hard to formulate it into words properly.

  3. WOW! Dood, I’m so sorry. That had to have been scary. I really don’t know what to say that you don’t already know/or are thinking,,, I can say I love you & am here for you! ❤ 😦

  4. Oh God, if the doctor won’t take that seriously, I think you need a new one. Hopefully something can get sorting out x

  5. I can vouch that for me the signs were very early. I didn’t get physical with my mom until 12, but I did have three hour tantrums screaming and crying over things that failed or didn’t go how I wanted.

    I’m sorry. This makes me sad because I understand your feelings of not wanting her to be stuck in the abyss of meds so early. I thank my mom for not starting me on meds early. Even if doctors go wtf at her for not having done something sooner. There’s nothing I can say to comfort you. Just know we are here to listen and be there however we can.

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