There are some days when it feels like it’s not worth the struggle. I am having one of those days. Between my physical problems, the general frustrations of everyday life in winter, and constant arguing with my littlest kid, I would like to run away and never come back.
I feel at war with myself, really. My nature is to be fairly bombastic – I flare pretty strongly, and frequently as well. It isn’t reasonable, however, to spend life continually bursting into flames. I have developed a strong sense of self-control, since I am a responsible adult. (I realize those things don’t necessarily follow one another.) This means I continually bite my tongue, especially at home, whence many frustrations come.
Well, I’m tired of it today. My tongue hurts. I have bitten it enough that it’s no more than a bloody nub today. I desperately want to say some hurtful, mean, nasty, completely inappropriate things, especially (and this is *really* bad!) to my littlest kid.
I do not have a particularly good template for effective parenting. Some of the nasty, mean, hurtful things I’m biting back are things I regularly heard directed at me when I was a kid, #2’s age and older – younger, too. I know how much such things hurt, and how long you carry them with you, and how heavy that load is. I know there has to be some way to get through to her that doesn’t involve soul-murder or savage humiliation. I just can’t think of any right now.
So my tongue is a bloody stump. My guts roil with fury and frustration. I wish I could find some relief somewhere.