Mama Done a Bad, Bad Thing

I slapped my child this morning.

For no good reason other than not being able to shut her mouth and listen, I slapped her. On the back of the head as she was about to descend into a full bore tantrum. There is no excuse for this; I should have been more patient with her.

I immediately broke down into tears and apologized.

I don't know what to do about my lack of patience, I really don't. Sure, there are circumstances - her father was sick this weekend, so she was with me the whole time, AND her day care is closed so I'll have to manage her AND studying. My personal life is crap right now, and I've been drinking too much at night to deal with it. I have no job, no prospects for one, and no money to speak of. I'm still managing my depression and that's not easily done. I can't afford therapy right now, and I have no one to talk to about all this - at least not without having to explain and explain and explain. Or maybe the truth of that last statement is that I don't really trust anyone with my vulnerability. Dunno.

Regardless, this is really affecting my ability to be a loving, patient, effective parent. I do NOT know what to do; I don't know how to cope with this. The last time it was this bad, I left my husband and it got better. Can't do that now. I really fear the example I'm setting for her, but I don't know how to change course.

I love her so much, so very very much, but I can't seem to let go of my need to control. I forget she's 4. I forget that she doesn't have foresight and self -control. I forget that she's just learning. I want to be a good mama...to help her grow and become the cool human being I know she is. I have to remember that her argumentativeness and sass and in-your-face knowitallness is her nature: she is my child and I was just like that. I can't have it both ways...I can't raise a smart, strong, self-assured, independent girl who takes no shit if I expect her to be compliant and perfectly controlled with me. I just don't want her to be a beast-child, because I hate kids like that, and I don't want to be one of those mothers who overlooks their child's horrific behavior because I hate them too.

Oh, this is going to be a looooong.....life. And I gotta figure out how to ride it through without breaking her or me.

The faith of the Faithless

I want this smoothed out. I want to feel secure again. I want it done. But it's never done, is it? There's always more to come.

I want him to be able to reach into my mind and know what it is I am trying to communicate. I want him to reach in there and see my truth, to understand me, to know my heart. And there's the rub: you can't reach the heart through the brain, can you?

I am terrified that my penchant for over analyzing is going to drive a wedge between us. And I'm terrified that my terror of this is going to make this a self fulfilling prophecy. I'm terrified that he won't trust me because I still trust him. I'm terrified that my lack of anger at him is going to drive him away. I'm terrified that he's going to walk away from me because of some stupid idea that he is going to let me down, when the only way he'll let me down is if he walks away from me.

My ability to get mired in negative recursive thinking is amazing, isn't it?

I'm just so tired of this. I'm tired of working things through long distance. I'm tired of not being able to communicate with eyes, touch, smiles. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of the extremes of intense communication and silence for lack of a topic. I'm tired of waiting.

All I fucking want is a normal relationship with him.

But I can't have that right now. And now is all I have. So I have to sit with the abnormality and the insecurity and the exhaustion, and just be with it, not blocking it off or pushing it away or acting out because of it. It. Will. Change. And so knowing, I can and must let it be.

Rhetorical Questions

Was she thinner than me? Was she prettier? Sexier? Was she single? Does she have kids, or is her body unsullied? Is she young? Was she smarter than me? Funnier? More interesting? Could you talk with her about things I can't? Did you kiss her first? Did you take her hand and lead her to your bed? Was it fumbling and urgent or did you take your time and savor her skin? Did she ask you go down on her or did you make that choice? Did you kneel before her in worship? Did she taste better than me? Did you make her come? Did she buck her hips against your mouth? Did it satisfy you? Did you take her nipples between your teeth and make her breath hitch with the sting? Did she suck your cock? Did she wrap her mouth around you and suck you dry? Did she look up at you as you pounded the back of her throat? Did her tongue find the darkness in you? When you fucked her, did she talk to you? Did she tell you she liked it? That she wanted it? Was her pussy tight? Did she grip you hard? Did you look into her eyes or did you fuck her from behind? Did you fuck her in the ass? Did you want to? Did you talk afterward? Laugh? Did she stay the night? Was she a goddess or did you settle for less?

I don't want answers. I just wanted to ask the questions. I actually know that it doesn't matter. What matters is that you shared an intimacy with someone that I was not a party to. You've said you wouldn't fuck someone else even with my permission, even if I wanted you to because it would turn me on. But you'll take someone else without me.

Is this unfair? You bet. This is only one moment in time, surrounded by a million others in which you've shone like the sun. And in the end, this ain't gonna matter. It doesn't really matter now. But here, I don't have to be fair. I can just be hurt.

Weaning off of brain drugs makes me feel all wonky. Ugh.