Yesterday I had a really bad day. My son and I were about to go to bed when I walked into the bathroom and saw that he had left massive puddles of water all over the floor. Understandably I got upset. But what was in actuality such a small thing got turned into the worst possible outcome in my mind. I yelled at him, and could tell by the look on his face that I hurt his feelings. All the while I’m ranting and raving, I’m looking at him and seeing the hurt in his eyes but I could not stop myself from saying the horrible things I said. I know I’m supposed to walk away and take a breather, but sometimes I can’t stop my mouth from moving. I know that it is most likely because I just had to see my family over Thanksgiving, and my mother (while holding a drink in her hand) was making my tell my sisters that I had quit drinking. I think about everything I want to say to her, about how inadequate I felt growing up and how since alcoholism runs on both sides of my family tree I was predisposed to having problems with addiction. But every time we have one of those conversations she just turns things around and makes me feel like screaming because she says, “you’re blaming everybody else for your problems,” or, “that’s life, deal with it.” I own the fact that I have a problem, I am fully aware. But I promised myself when I became a mother that my children would never feel like they were unloved or not good enough, and now I feel like I can see the blowback in my son’s eyes every time I get angry. Is this cycle ever going to break, or am I doomed to repeat my family’s mistakes?
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Long time
tayjustine13, , Depression, Anxiety, Depression, Relationships, Sleep Disorders, Stress, 1
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Stream-of-conciousness, Part 3: Bad memories, Facebook ruling mty world, sudden fear of having something called NPD, dancing with the devil, etc.
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Many work are usually joined with liability which is the job associated with relocating bureau to help move this...
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I’m trying to keep my wits about me. Today was better: he had to fold his clothes and was constantly asking me if what he was doing was right. Instead of yelling, I asked him to give me the shirt and showed him what to do. The next time, I hope he can remember what to do. That seems to be the problem we keep having: he keeps saying he doesn’t remember how to do something, and knowing my son he’s much smarter than that. So I know he remembers, he just doesn’t want to do what I ask.