Tag Archives: rage

Too Much

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What will take away the rage,
the fatigue, the sheer exhaustion?
What will make all of this seem ok,
so that I can get up and do this again
(and again and again and again and again)?
How many days like this
until it won’t be like this anymore?
Tonight, I feel solidarity
will all single parents everywhere
who just want some help,
because it all feels like too much.

The In Laws

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My kids come back home today
and they tell me
(Insert Husband’s Mistress’s name here)
is going with us to Utah in July!
I’m flattened.
In a state of shock.
I think I might have gasped.
My daughter asks
Are you jealous, Mom?
And I answer
No, not jealous…I’m…I’m…surprised.
I text him a litany of curse words
to make any sailor proud.
Then I text his Mormon mother,
my (still) mother in law,
the woman I called Mom for seven years.
Are you okay with them
sharing a bed in your home
when we are still married?
I don’t want my children exposed
to their adulterous behavior.
She answers back,
That’s never allowed in my house.
But talk to him. Not me. ┬áThat’s it.
Then I text his dad and his stepmom.
Neither one of them answers.
No surprise there.
I mean, after seven good years of marriage
and still together after eight,
what’s one daughter in law
down the drain?
I guess I’m disposable to them
Just like I was to him.
Luckily there was a CoDA meeting tonight.

Getting Stronger

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Mental gymnastics.
Trying to be strong,
trying to choose the positive way,
resisting negativity, anger,
and then it comes, white hot
and so fast it’s all a blur.
Lost it again.
How many times have I lost it today?
How many times have I apologized
to my children for my explosive anger?
And then it’s time
to apologize to myself
for judging myself
for being hurt and lashing out.
Faced with all of this pain
I’m doing the best I can,
but the voice inside
says, “Never good enough.”
How do I respond to that?
I take a deep breath.
I step back into the arena.
More mental gymnastics,
and maybe I’m getting stronger each time.

Reluctant Housecleaning

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I scrubbed toilets
with no gladness in my heart today,
felt overburdened and overwhelmed,
walked around scowling,
and when I wasn’t enraged,
I was feeling guilty and ashamed
for losing my temper with my kids.
I thought about people
who clean houses for a living,
what that must be like…
Keeping just one house clean
feels like way too much
for one person to handle alone.
And I thought of societal expectations,
what one woman is supposed to do
for her home, her family,
putting others needs before her own.
I thought of those who live
with more creative freedom than I…
do they manage to keep a clean house
and find time for the things they really want to do?
I wouldn’t have cared so much
about the dingy state of things,
but my in-laws are coming Friday,
and I have appearances to keep up.
If only I could vacuum the crud out of my brain,
the way I vacuum the crud out of the carpet.

The Mean Time

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Without warning it returns
the depression, the rage
and my hormones betray me again
A friend reminded me
the last time that this happened
that it wouldn’t be the last time
that this happens
But knowing what it is
doesn’t make it feel
any less overwhelming.
I’m going to bed early
and trying to forgive myself
for all the times
I snapped at my children today.
I know this will get better;
it always does–
but it’s what I do in the meantime
(the MEAN time)
that really worries me.

Always a Mother

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Sometimes I’m a monster.
The hormones rage,
awakened by a child too many times
in the night
sleep deprivation depriving
me of insight,
cannot see the light.
Patience is gone,
replaced by rage,
I’m an animal in a cage.

I’m loud, I stomp, I slam,
I feel put upon, resentful,
exhausted, alone.
Then comes the guilt
for not being better.
When it’s like this,
I often forget that…

Sometimes I’m a saint.
Most of the time
I meet my children
with tenderness and kindness
when they are grumpy,
resistant, messy, loud,
and mostly oblivious to my efforts
toward their happiness.
I cuddle and hold them close,
I tell them how important they are,
how special, how dear,
how glad I am that they are here.

I love from the deepest part of me
and forgive every single thing,
because I see their purity,
their goodness,
their absolute trust in me,
and I want to be worthy of that trust.

Sometimes I’m a monster.
Sometimes I’m a saint.

Always I’m a mother.

NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 3: Help Me Out

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Ladies, help me out.
Do you get mood swings too?
Do you feel enraged
for no particular reason,
and even if the sun is shining,
do you feel darkness too?
I want to know what will help.
I meditate, I breathe,
I keep myself busy with housework.
I try to give my kids my full attention,
but the monster can sweep it all away,
and all that is left is my anger.
Help me out.
Who knows how to stop the rage?
Who can pull themselves back from the edge?
Help me out.
How do you deal with your anger?