Recently I had a major meltdown. The yelling, throwing things, mad at the world, feeling sorry for myself kind. The kind I’m embarrassed to admit I had the day after. The kind I try hard to control, but, when the circumstances are right, like I’m stressed from the day-to-day and over-extending myself, can get the better of me, and I blow. Fortunately, the bulk of this one hit after my son was in bed and no one else was in the house. I could have buried it and pretended it didn’t happen, but I knew better. When everything builds up and pushes me over the edge, I have to face it head on. Especially when my son witnessed the beginning of the meltdown and was stunned because it came out of left field. He even said “What happened? You were fine a minute ago.” What kind of example am I setting? How can I discuss self-control with him, when I’m not exhibiting it myself?
I have outbursts here and there. Usually brought on by my son’s extraordinary button-pushing, but this wasn’t that at all. Those are quick and they don’t linger like this one did. This was something deeper taking over. To be honest it scared me.
The morning after the meltdown, my son told me he was genuinely concerned. He too knew this wasn’t the norm for Mom. I told him I felt like Rick from “The Walking Dead” just before he ripped Joe’s throat out with his teeth and although this actually helped to get my son out of bed faster that morning, I knew that wasn’t good. I knew the monster inside was winning and I had to get a grip. Read the rest of this entry »