Pity Party

I seem to have cornered the market on pity parties. I throw them for myself quite often. It seems to give me something to focus on when life either throws me a whopper or gets too simple and I’m looking for ways to make myself feel awful.

Did I do this before Monster was born? Of course. But I had a much larger array of subjects to choose from back then. Now my whole focus is on Monster. So, when any tiny thing goes wrong, I fall apart.

Most of the time these falling-apart sessions don’t last long. My normal MO nowadays is
1. Freak out
2. Fall apart
3. Cry a lot
4. Whine to anyone who will listen
5. Get pissed
6. Stop whining and start fighting
7. With a new surge of fury, push self out of pity mode into action mode.

I’m getting quite good at going through these steps pretty quickly.

But what about when there is nothing to get angry about? What if there is nothing to force me to stand up and fight? Up until now I have had lots of fights. Whether or not they were truly necessary is a moot point. I fought them because a part of me felt that I needed to fight, or fall into despair.

But times like this, when I am down about something I have no control over, and there is really nobody to get angry with or fight with, what do I do?

I can’t seem to figure out how to bounce back without that surge of anger, of protective indignation over my child. There have only been two times since Monster’s diagnosis that I have had nobody to get pissed at, and both times I have found myself wallowing in self-pity for days.

There’s a good chance that the anger seethes inside of me if I can’t lash out somehow at someone or some group or some law. Depression is anger turned inward, after all. And I know there are times that I am angry with Monster, just because he makes my life difficult (is that the most selfish thing you have ever heard?) and of course I know this anger is wrong, so I keep it in.

And I repeat to myself, as often as necessary, “this child is a gift, this child is a gift….” Until I feel it again. The small catching of my breath when I see him after a long day at work. The way I feel warm and happy just hearing him talk. The way I love to hold him and cuddle and make him laugh. And then I can slowly pull myself back from the edge once again.

My child has made it possible for me to feel deeply again. If I can simply let those feelings be instead of labelling them and filing them away inside of me, holding them close in the tightness of my chest, I might not have to fight others or myself so much.