Going Forward

It's only taken half my life to realise, but here it is. There is no fix, there is only a work-around - and nobody is qualified to help me create and implement that work-around. It's all on me.

*Obligatory Trigger Warning - sexual abuse, self-harm, disordered eating/drinking*

I was given an anger management CD once, when I was about 18 or 19. I don't remember much of it, only that anger didn't form part of my issues again until much more recently. Back then, Anger was because I'd been molested by a babysitter. Anger was because a boy attempted to rape me in secondary school. Anger was because I was an easy target for bullies. I went through some CBT and it helped resolve that Anger. All was well.

These days, Rage is the reason I'm on the meds that I'm on. Rage is the reason I sought psychotherapy, because my psychiatrist wants me off the meds. My psychotherapist sent me away with the offer of a refresher MBT course (not needed, the MBT kicks in appropriately enough and a refresher won't improve that) and some sheets of A4 with information for the newly diagnosed, whereupon my brain whips up this image:

So in short, that isn't really going to help. The meds help with containing 3/4 of an episode, the MBT helps with the last 1/4. What I need is to better manage the source of the Rage so that there's less work for the meds to do. Unfortunately, the source is something I cannot control. You see, the Rage spikes because of the kids. Because they don't respect the word "no". Because they aren't obedient. Because they are wilfully defiant in the face of logic, in the face of kindness. Because they are 2 and 4 years old and aren't yet emotionally or maturationally equipped to behave in a respectful or obedient manner, because they are only just on the brink of being able to employ logical reasoning.

Parent of the year, right? Well, if I had known that this Rage monster would rear its ugly head because of these sweet little children, you can bet your life savings I would have pre-medicated to avoid it. I would have built defence mechanisms to circumvent it. I would have employed a more robust support system* and learned to temper my own expectations of the kids. Instead, we have the situation at hand where I have to accomplish all of that at extremely short notice.

(*I have a pretty good support system, we live not far away from my dad and my mom and my hubby is super understanding and supportive of my ever-evolving diagnoses and needs. Sometimes though it's not enough and I've found myself screaming into my pillow and biting my hands because it's all too much to bear.)

I have a flip-chart which I will use when brainstorming with hubby on how to better manage things both locally and globally. I'll put those A1 pieces of newsprint on walls and doors around my house so that I have constant reminders of what I need to do and when in order to minimise the stress and anxiety that inevitably builds until the point of ignition and the Rage explodes. It will be good to have, in black and white, everyone's responsibilities and timescales for achieving them so that I don't feel like everything is up to me and consequently feel like an utter failure when I can't manage to do any of/all the things.

At this point, it is looking unlikely that I will be able to go without meds until the kids have moved out of the family home, but at least there is actually an end point to all of this. What I have to do in the meantime is work my ass off to make sure that my own conditions, illnesses, weaknesses (call them what you will) do not impact on the kids in a memorable or permanent way.

This means I will be continuing to use the various coping mechanisms I've come to depend upon. It used to be that when shit got too bad, I'd cut myself. The external pain matching the internal pain helped me to deal with the intensity of my feelings. Getting it out of my head and onto my body where I could see it provided relief. Once Taylor was on the scene I swore I wouldn't do that any more, I didn't want to have to answer his innocent questions of why mommy was sore. So what does mommy do now? Mommy occasionally goes through periods when she drinks in the evenings and at the weekend more than the recommended amount for a regular and extended period of time (hey, it averages out over the year). If it's not alcohol, it's chocolate. Right now, we are in a chocolate cycle but its coming to a close. It'll be booze by next week. It seems to change around every quarter. Summer and Winter tend to be alcohol, Autumn and Spring tend to be chocolate.

Another, rather odd coping mechanism linked to these, is that I have pretty much completely dissociated my self from my body. I am just...me. I'm not attached to the notion of feeling in any way female. I'm no longer depressed because of the weight I've gained over the past almost 2 years and the effect it's had on my shape. I have an image in my head of how I look and it doesn't change even if I do. That'll do me. My body is a means to an end, nothing more elaborate than that. I'm not emotionally attached to it at all. I've felt (not felt?) this for 4 or 5 months now, and I tell you something, it saves me a world of self-torment and guilt. It has helped lift the miasma of depression that started to settle in the summer of 2015, because a lot of that was linked to the sudden weight gain I experienced as a result of simultaneously stopping breastfeeding and starting medication. So, to sum up: instead of cutting myself, I abuse the calories in food and drink and then dissociate myself from the weight gain that results, all in an attempt to damp down my affect. Seems legit.

On the plus side, my emotions are, overall, in check! I have the occasional wobble but I can pull it back before it spirals out of control. I have the occasional meltdown, but they too are short-lived. I get the Scottish Blues from mid-September to the end of March, but it's more of an annoyance than anything, a factor in exacerbating everything else that I need to be aware of.

And the Rage? Because it all boils down to that, doesn't it. I'll need to find a way to prevent life from conspiring to ignite that flare, rather than try (and fail) to squib the flare itself. All this time, the thought has been "oh, a symptom! Let's try to cure the symptom!" when it should have been "Let's try to cure the cause." Silly rabbit.