Phew, it's over

OK, I'm back to normal. The drama was, as is quite common, all in my head. I didn't have to get angry about it, I chose to. And I chose badly. 2 xanax later and I've calmed down.

I used one xanax to calm me down enough to talk to him. I told him what made me angry, the part about my room, the coffee table and the cupboard - not the part about him being able to do anything he wants and he still gets to be here. He didn't say anything back, so I left it at that. But it wasn't good. The air was still polluted with my anger and his indignation that he hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't say it, but I could feel him thinking it. I know him well. I wanted an apology, I didn't get one.

There's only one way, ONE WAY, to clear the air when things are like this. I don't like it, but I've accepted that that's the way it is. I have to apologise for getting angry in the first place. I have to admit that I over-reacted and that I know that I do these things too (whatever it is that has upset me in the first place) and then he will start talking to me again, then we have a chat about how tough it is, what we need to do and the air is clear again. I go away relieved that we are talking like adults again but each time this happens, a little piece of my dignity and self worth gets left behind on his bedroom floor where he can walk all over it, any time he pleases.

He doesn't mean to do this. He doesn't see it this way. But for me, this is what happens. This is my reality, my feelings. Two people, two different stories. It is why we can no longer be together.

After we've talked, I go away and write, rest, read, facebook or listen to Adam and try to remember that even though he doesn't think so, my reality is still valid. My point of view is worth something. I'm not unreasonable. I'm not crazy. I make mistakes too, but I'm still allowed to be annoyed by his. I look around my own world and scrape back together my sense of worth, my esteem and my dignity. I soak up the love from the kids like a damn sponge and tell them how lucky I am that they love me. Hours pass, xanax dulls the worst of the feelings, a night of sleep passes and I emerge whole again, confident that I can see this through.

Post drama, the kids fuss over me, asking me if I'm OK, wanting to sit beside me and give me lots of hugs. My son is very concerned that I've gone through some sort of drama, though he doesn't know what. His little hands snakes its way around my neck, patting as it goes. He crosses his legs over mine, gently reassuring me, his big brown eyes searching mine for any signs of distress. His senses and awareness of others is improving. He can pick up on my voice when it's stressed and always offers a hug or something else to make me feel better. He will take my hand and try to bring me to my room to lie down and tells me that everything is going to be OK soon. He tells me not to worry and that he'll look after me. My heart swells but then I am acutely aware that he shouldn't have this worry in his life. Mummy melting down is not good for his stability and it wears both of them down. I notice that if it happens a couple of times in near succession, they get a bit cranky. Almost like "why is mummy doing this"... "oh no, not again". If I'm having an episode, ex will usually step in, but they don't have the same relationship with him as they do with me. I'm their stability, they shouldn't need to be mine.

The ups and downs of the emotional rollercoaster have been getting more frequent of late. This time I again proved to ex that when something good happens to me (the concert), the family will pay for it days later. I wish I could say that he was wrong, but looking from his side, I have to wonder if, indeed, he is right. Do my family always have to pay an emotional price when I do something that makes me happy? Sometimes I wish I could just grow up. I even got a little annoyed at myself for being infatuated with someone half my age who is taking my time and attention away from doing 'grown up' things - like getting enough sleep so that I can be a good mother the next day.

Come the Singapore trip, I have to be very, very careful and be very aware, so that I can turn around and say to him, see, I can manage myself quite well, thankyou very much.

And speaking of Singapore, even though it's not my trip, I am doing the planning. At least it's not by default. He asked me to this time and even gave me one of those puppy dog eye looks that men give women when they want something. I couldn't say no. I never can. Not yet anyway. I'll plan it and it will be good. And I won't melt down.

And for whatever life is throwing at you now, hang in there people, especially you Nicola. Hugs.