How my unpredicatility affects my children …

I was over visiting Bipolarmoms Blog and read a post where she indicates her reaction to both her mom’s depression and her father’s depression:

My mom, however, was prone to wild and unpredictable moods. I was more affected by my mom’s unpredictability than I was by my dad’s withdrawal.

This is something I worry about a great deal.

I have had a good second half of this year, with most of my demons/black dogs being kind enough to give me a short respite from all things self-hatred, self-doubt, and over critical in my judgement of myself.  Much of the depression, anxiety and self-deprecating behaviour has abated.

I am not naive enough to believe it has all vanished, but I feel a lot less heavy.  A lot less weighed down by my baggage.

I am not exactly unicorns and daisies having carnal relations, but I definitely wake up with less of an urge to pull the covers over my head and pray I can remain in bed all day.

Granted being retrenched was not the key highlight in my year – I was pretty sure it was going to kick me off the edge of the proverbial cliff.  It has allowed me to tackle something I probably would not have been courageous enough to do had I not been forced in to it, namely Happy Helpers.

It has allowed me to cast my view inwards, but in a positive light – “what can I do to get this to work” or “how am I going to get past this set back” or “how can I get this business to move” – and to try to see things that don’t work out as learning curves, rather than fall on the floor and cry curves!

This post is not about that.  It is about the fact that I do not think I am this even keel centre of solid reliable behaviour/reaction when it comes to my kids.  I am in a word erratic.

I tend towards outbursts of cussing and really showing my distress in a situation which should appear all good parenting and mother’s apron.  I do not ease into activities with the kids, I go into them thinking “okay, how long do I have to endure this, before it is finished” …..

I am really struggling with sound and my reaction to it at the moment.  And really what can one do about sound, short of wearing ear plugs – but that then makes me hear the whooshing sound that blood makes in my ears, and I can’t do that either.

Kennith suggests I am over reacting and to test that he has taken to chewing 10 – 15 hardc spur sweets at night in bed.  Or  munching on three crisp crunchy granny smith apples.  I am starting to wonder if he is really wanting me to beat him with the lampshade, or whether this is a test in my ability to sit quietly and not react.

But back to the point of this post.

A simple task of sitting and overseeing spelling or reading homework with the kids, causes me huge distress.  I really want to run away — far away.  I hear how much fun other moms are having doing stuff with their kids – if Facebook Status updates are to be believed – and I wonder how I am getting this all so very wrong, as I am not enjoying it so much.

Connor is very aware of my outbursts and my flicking between calm and rampant-bitch, and I can see the careful way he often treads with me. His face goes into a state of fear when he sees me tipping over the edge.  Connor has probably seen and experienced the worst I have to offer.

Georgia does not appear to care. I think she wakes up in the mornings wondering how she can set about pushing my buttons,and then goes about it with a zealous abandon.  Bless her totally unawares socks!

Isabelle is the one I am trying my utmost not to fk up.  She is my third chance at being a better/normal mom.  Gd knows I try with her.  I try to remain level and even tempered.  I try not to go off in fits of rage.  I try to deal with her by first taking a deep breath before I walk in to her tantrums.

Stumbling on that phrase from Bipolarmoms Blog, really gave me pause for thought, concern and reflection.  Wondering how much my “moods” are affecting and will affect my children moving forward.