Anatomy of a Breakdown

I have been delicately balancing sanity verses insanity, busy verses overwhelmed, and emotional verses hysterical for several weeks now. Then I collapse on the bed, sobbing and gasping for air, then sobbing some more. I am scared and desperate to get myself under control. Finally, I become numb and am able to move again. The panic comes in waves now, and without warning. My mind is spinning and I am overwhelmed by it all. I try to reach out for help, but the worlds I have fail me, and new words can not be pulled from memory as my every thought becomes jumbled. I feel like the weight of the world is upon me, and I am crumbling beneath all the things that used to bring me happiness. I am angry. I am scared. I am frustrated. I begin to lash out. My temper becomes short and I am not able to tolerate noises, and my skin feels like it is crawling. "Why does no one see me? Why does no one help, offer me comfort, offer me safety?" I am angry with them all, and I am yelling more loudly now, then I am SCREAMING. It is as though I am sitting helplessly as I watch reason and ration escape me. And all at once, I am screaming as loud as I can and I am hitting someone I love. The rage fills me to a degree I can not explain. My words are full of hate and venom. I am full rage. "SHUT UP! I HATE YOU! YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT YOURSELF!...." The words escape my lips almost before my head comprehends them. In my head there are screams of frustration. Screams of pain, and the overwhelming need to feel loved and important. Yet, yet I can not stop the rage that is pushes people away. I go to the only coping mechanism I have left, and I turn my anger on myself. I begin to cut myself as a form of release. As the flames begin to die, the anger turns to shame, and pain, and fear. I begin to sob, and just like the rage, the sorrow overwhelms me quickly. In no time at all, I am hysterical. The following day, I feel the physical affects. My arms are cut and stinging, There are bruises I don't remember getting, and all of my muscles ache. My head pounds from the tension and strain of all the emotion. I replay scenes in my mind and fill with guilt over the things I have done and said. I wonder what is wrong with me? Why can I not control this? I feel weak and crazy. I am embarrassed, and I don't want anyone to know how out of control I am. This is not me. This is not who I am. I am better than this. I am stronger than this. Why can't I do this? Why can't I control this? I am terrified now. I desperate as I am to control these emotions, I am terrified of my own darkness. I have been done this path before and it made me feel pathetic and sad. People took pity on me, or saw me as someone who needed to be handled with kid gloves or someone who needed to be fixed. I am NONE OF THOSE THINGS and I refuse, I REFUSE to allow myself to be seen that way. Now, what I ask myself. I know I can need help. I know I will continue to spin out of control until something interrupt my momentum, but asking for help will let other people know I am weak. So I continue to walk that line of sane verses insane, busy verses overwhelmed, and emotional verses hysterical, knowing that any little shift will throw me off balance once again.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 annnnnnnd Melt Down

I left work feel pretty depleted. I start the car and before I reach the stop sign at the end of the road I have started to cry. I can't seem to stop myself. I drive home the back way in order to avoid the traffic in town. It is slightly longer but I am in no hurry to get back to the house. Yesterday, Chuck had a bad day with his daughter and was not handling it well. I had been fighting another migraine most of the day and was struggling to keep my head together. It all came to a head after his daughter was in bed. (My daughter is thankfully visiting her father.) I flew into a rage. I am ashamed, hurt, and angry and having trouble wanting to face going home. The more I drive the harder I cry. I get to the intersection of my road, I turn away from our house. I search for my Swiss Army knife in my purse. Drive the other way. I feel myself becoming hysterical. I begin to tell myself "it's ok". After a short time I am crying and repeating that phrase over and over out loud now. "It's ok. It's ok.  It's ok..."  I convince myself to turn around. I feel a sense of panic knowing I have nowhere else to go. I put the blade of my knife on my arm. I feel it burn as I pull it across my arm. I don't really cause any more damage than a scratch. I keep crying, and head home. I pull in the driveway, still crying. All at once I stop crying. I just sit there in the car staring first at the yard, then the house, then the yard, and back to the house. Snippets of last night play through my head, along with mounting worries about having to call the landlord about the rent, the tree that fell from our property on the neighbor's garage, and the leaking roof. I begin to cry again. I look at the house again. I make myself get out of the car and walk slowly toward the house. I walk into kitchen and freeze. I don't know what to do. I hear Chuck and his little girl in the next room. I stand there. Eventually, I walk straight through, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. Stopping only briefly to take my anxiety meds. Sitting on the side of the tub I become hysterical again. My head on my knees, the more I try to control it the harder I cry. Chuck comes in asks what's going on? What the hell is wrong with me? I don't answer and cry harder. He starts to ask if I can watch his daughter for awhile. I just continue to cry. I have no idea how long it goes on like this. All I know is my head is beginning to ache and Chuck is getting twitcher by the second. Saying he needs to get out of here for awhile. I come down stairs and sit with his daughter. Chuck hands me a beer. I still have tears streaming down from time to time. I can't control it. Chuck leaves and I sit on the floor while his girl talks to me. She is sweet and tells me how its ok to cry some times. We talk about numbers and toys. Chuck comes back home and tells me to go lay down. I don't argue and just head to bed. I am woken up at dinner time and Chuck gives me more meds. So here I sit sedated, but no longer crying or shaking. I am ashamed. Ashamed of the raging fit I had, ashamed of needing all these meds, ashamed to have hurt myself, and ashamed I have lost control of my emotions. I hate that I don't know if I will be ok tomorrow or not.