No one likes feeling trapped. No one. What I hate is feeling trapped in my own body and mind when experiencing stress. It’s visceral. It’s all-encompassing. And I hate that I haven’t learned how to control it.  I’m terrible at it.  I endure it and endure it and plod along and ignore it until I can’t…..and then BOOM! I physically feel like I cannot hold it in anymore, despite the fact that I REALLY NEED TO.  I’m too much of an open book.  And I hate that about myself.  I may even hate myself for writing all of this.  I will definitely hate myself for it.

There’s lots of things I hate that I can’t escape, like OTHER PEOPLE.  Like MYSELF.

I hate living in a world with Type A, over-achieving, controlling, overly scheduled, equally stressed out people.  I hate living in a world with people who expect that their way is the best way.  That we should ALL be on the same page, with the same ambitions, with the same expectations, with the same timetables, with the same definitions of what is acceptable…..

I hate other people’s definition of success and feeling forced into it.  I hate other people making their problems (their “quest for success”, their logistics problems, their goals, their expectations, their first world problems)… MY problems.  I guess I’m pretty damn selfish that way.  I hate schedules. I hate deadlines. I HATE TIME.  Time and I have a terrible relationship.

Actually, Time and I wouldn’t have such a fucking problem if OTHER PEOPLE WERE NOT INVOLVED.

And sometimes it gets to me so much that I need to slam things.  Seriously….I NEED a physical outlet for the energy that’s been held in so long that it NEEDS to go somewhere.  I know that calming down is the best thing.  I know that breathing is the best thing.  I’m all for that!  Only, I can’t seem to do that on a consistent basis. And I hate that.  I hate that I can’t practice what I preach.

(Yes, there are lots of capital letters in this post.  I’m trying to calm myself with wine – probably not the best way – and Ravi Shankar on my headphones and pounding the keyboard instead of pounding anything else, because I’ve done enough of pounding doors and eardrums with my outrage this evening….)

But what my body feels like doing is running and running and running until I’m alone in the wilderness; punching and punching and punching until I can’t anymore; screaming until my lungs give out and the veins in my neck rupture.  Over the past two years I’ve finally come to an understanding why some depressed people cut themselves.  I am TERRIBLE at handling stress.

My father once told me that when he gets angry, he LITERALLY sees red.  He used to be a door and cabinet slammer too.

The very first psychiatrist I ever went to told me that depression is actually anger turned inwards.  I can see that.

I hate the fact that my personal stresses are nothing compared to other people’s stresses and yet I’M STRESSED!  I hate feeling like I’m so spoiled compared to others on this planet and yet I’m STRESSED! WE ALL ARE.  And that stresses me out too!

My father has an incurable cancer.  My husband is severely depressed.  My son has ADHD and Anxiety.  And SO DO I.  The special school for my son that we gave up everything to move across town for is having an extreme trust issues in regards to health of the student body and financial management.  Our country is being led by the worst ignoramus EVER.  There are terrible injustices going on in this world.  All the life forms on the entire planet are endangered….including US!  My daughter just wants a “normal” teen-hood (enough said….she’s a teenager….). We have severe financial difficulties (who doesn’t besides the really wealthy?). My own depression and anxiety and “mother guilt” are constantly jumping around in the background, while I am constantly trying to hold it at bay.  My house is a HUGE MESS and I know that this sounds so trivial, but it aggravates me to no end (I can’t list the details because…. I just can’t ….-it just contributes to my depression).. Our pets desperately need more attention, I can’t find anything around here when I need it and…..and…..and…..and…….
Everything feels so fucking hopeless and out of control.

So. The LAST thing I needed this evening was a text from another stressed out mom; a Type-A, more efficient than me, more organized than me, more involved than me, in my mind BETTER than me mother, letting me know, in very passive-aggressive terms, what unreliable FLAKES my family are in planning and being on time.  Letting me know that she holds grudges.  Letting me know that we SCREWED UP before and therefore she no longer trusts us.  And I get how she feels, actually!

And this anger and frustration and self-loathing and irritation had nowhere else to go than OUT.
And that does my family NO GOOD.  And I’m A MOM.  And therefore, it is MY FAULT.

I’m not good at being an “adult”.
I’ve got a HUGE problem.
And I need to find a safe outlet, because I feel like it’s all on my shoulders. MINE.