I have been strangely content lately. Nothing's really changed. The kids are still the kids, Martin's job is just the same as always, I spend most of my time alone. And yet...
We had a great time while the kids were off school. There were a few days that were tough, for sure, but I was actually a little sad to see them back at school. First time ever.
My temper seems to be under control now. I still get angry and frustrated, but I am dealing with the anger when it occurs instead of holding it in until I explode. I'm sure the Prozac is helping quite a bit (mostly because the changes happened when I started taking it in the morning instead of at night), but it might be because I'm learning and changing.
And yet, part of me doesn't trust this new-found calm. I'm afraid that it's only a matter of time until I lose this control and things slip back to the way they were before. I don't want to go back there!
The other night I started feeling a bit snappish with the kids. It was the first time in nearly three weeks. I got through the evening, tucked them into bed, came downstairs and picked the crap out of my skin on my face and arms. Then I downed a pint of Ben and Jerry's and consoled myself with a night on the sofa. So I'm not taking it out on the kids--I'm punishing myself for getting angry and then trying to make myself feel better. Not healthy.
But at least I'm not doing them any harm. I'm already messed up--the damage is done. I'd ten times rather harm myself than harm my children!
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