Anger pulsing through my grip

You would have thought today was a good day. It was for the most part. We finally got our house set up with internet access, the last step in bringing us back up to speed in technology after four weeks of only having the use of my iPhone. My son and I ambled through the day doing tasks and enjoying ourselves. I went to a water aerobics class, visited with my parents via Skype and went for a walk with a neighbor. As I sat on the side of my bed, fiddling and getting ready for bed, my son came in – angry about where I’d had the wireless router placed because he was having difficulty receiving it in his room. He didn’t want to have me look at his touch, or discuss and went on about how many walls were between the router and his room! He always pulls me in like this! My anger flares. I react. He, the angry teenager, becomes indignant, and I continue to react. After I’ve “had the last word” I feel awful and feel I’ve lost the fight no matter what. Wanting to have control, yet knowing I have none over myself – or anyone else. Thoughts of cutting prevailed. I ended up outside. Shallow cutting. Wanting to do more. Feeling my pulse throbbing in my hand as is held the Swiss Army knife I’ve had since I was 16. Little damage done. I came in and started writing. Want to take sleeping pills to go to sleep quickly and for a long time. No! Don’t. Will go to sleep quickly enough. See how long I sleep. Playing with pills is dangerous. Too easily out of control. But time goes by quickly during sleep. I didn’t eat lunch today, or supper. That isn’t good. I did have a few drinks, and that is why I can’t mess with my meds or any other pills. Even if they do help me to sleep, they are a bad combination. And I know they provoke the anger. But I wasn’t feeling angry at all until I was confronted! And there was nothing wrong with where the router was placed! He’s still coming to me with things that have gone wrong, yet as soon as I ask a question, or to see the object … I’m the bad guy. I know. This is just the life of dealing with a teenager. I just react to strongly right now. It’s all I can do not to throw my laptop across the room in frustration. I can’t breathe. I want to scream. And I love him with my whole being and will fight for him with every fiber of my body and soul. God do I hope he did not inherit this mental illness of mine. I’m so, so  tired now. No extra pills. I’m going to sleep. Hopefully for the whole night. No more, no less.

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