My Two Year Old Is Driving Me Further Insane

My two year old is probably like most two year olds, but I am not like most fathers and it is becoming increasingly difficult for me to tolerate her. The screaming causes me to scream. The mimicry causes me to smile, but get aggravated when she repeats it over and over again which leads to more screaming.

The thing that gets me fired up the most is when she openly defies her mother or me. That gets her a whipping and/or time out. Sometimes I send her to bed over it. I cannot tolerate it. It makes my blood boil. I hate to be disrespected and that is what she is doing. I have tried explaining it to her, but even though she seems to get it she does exactly what she just got in trouble for ten seconds later.

I know she is testing her boundaries, but she reached the end of them a long time ago. She does not respect us and she does not fear us (which is good), but I need something to change and quick because my hair is falling out AND turning grey and I am having to double up on my Klonopin (at the suggestion of my doctor).

My therapist thinks I need a break and I have taken them and they help, but it is back to the same when I return. I can’t take a permanent break as I can’t stand being away from her for more than a night or three (six has been the max and it sucked). So I miss her, but I want to get away from her. I love her, but I hate what she is doing. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Help me, please.

The Introduction Of The New Me

Over the last seven years my life has changed dramatically. I got married to the love of my life and life itself seemed wonderful. We had a blissful honeymoon and I thought that was how the entirety of my life would go (I believe she did as well). We were both disappointed.

My mental illnesses got worse and worse. I became more and more susceptible to the stress around me. Jobs started lasting less and less time (I had never lasted long at a job because I got bored or my anger got the best of me, or I had the rare anxiety attack and I never went back because I was embarrassed). I spent quite a bit of time in and out of the hospital because of the anxiety attacks that were coming on weekly or sometimes even more frequently than that.

I lost my last job because I had too much time away due to the inability to handle stress and determined that school was my best bet. I would change majors from Culinary Arts to something less stressful. Instead, while living with my in-laws I had my breakdown.

Over the next two months I degraded so fast that neither my wife nor I knew what was going on. She became cold and I became distant. Everyone was out to get me and I could not leave my desk chair other than to go outside to the comfort of my secluded balcony to smoke. It was obvious that I needed help so, with my wife’s help, I got it.

To make a long story short as I have gone over most of this before, I eventually found the psychiatrist I am with now. I eventually found the right mix of medications and I eventually started to feel normal.

I wanted out of the house. I want out of my desk chair. I started to do more around the house. I started spending time with my daughter. I started being a somewhat normal human being.

Last week I decided that it was time for me to go back to work. Due to child support from my first marriage, I need to make a certain amount just to bring in what I am bringing in now with my disability and the jobs that disability will find for you are a joke.

So I am job hunting. I haven’t worked since 2007. I am a published writer so I use that as my work experience for the last several years, but a lot of employers don’t look kindly on that. I will find a job. I will contribute to my household. I will be a active member of society. I will introduce the world to the new me.

Stressing Over A Two Year Old

A two year old was made to induce stress in any living human being that cares for it on a regular or even a semi-regular basis. They refuse to listen, do the exact opposite of what you tell them to do, repeat what you don’t want them to repeat and more.

I know I am not alone in saying that I get so stressed out that I have to walk away from the situation at times. At least I can walk away at times, for a single parent with little to no support life with a toddler must be something like what a believing person would imagine as hell without the fire and brimstone – okay maybe a little fire, but that is a different story.

I also know that I am not alone in my inability to handle the little stresses and anxieties of life let alone the big ones. I, like quite a bit of the world, have a severe anxiety disorder. Yes mine is a very severe case, but I am medicated enough to make it a normal case and I still can’t handle not finding my shoes in the morning after the, you guessed it, two year old moved them “somewhere”. I certainly can’t handle the screaming, spitting, hitting and licking that my two year old exhibits on an hourly basis, not with all the Klonopin in the world.

She is always right, kind of like her mother, and she thinks she should always get exactly what she wants, kind of like her mother. She can’t understand consequences yet and wouldn’t care if she could.

She wakes up too early, naps too rarely and goes to sleep only if she is drugged. I haven’t slept more than six hours a night in over two years and I really wish that was different.

At the store she is a terror and that is being nice. She refuses to sit in the cart, runs off when she is on the ground, hides, refuses to hold anyone’s hand and screams at the top of her lungs for no reason other than to piss me off. She does a lot of things just to piss me off. My wife takes a laid back approach, but I refuse to let her walk all over me like she does my wife. She gets what she wants, when she wants it and still throws fits.

Spanking doesn’t work. Time out doesn’t work. Taking away TV or toys doesn’t work. If we put her to bed early she just screams and throws everything in her room if she can’t open the door.

She is a redhead and I know that comes with a certain temperament, but dear deity I won’t have any hair in a couple more months due to stress.

Routinely I have to walk away. I used to smoke, but my wife whined until I quit. Now I scream, a lot. I can’t write much because with the level of stress I cannot collect enough thoughts to get something legible down.

Today we went to Chuck-E-Cheese. For those of you that don’t know what that is, image eighty games for kids and tunnels for them to crawl through aided by singing and dancing characters and pizza, cake and ice cream. Hell for parents.

I spent most of the time running after my daughter trying to catch her. I lost her, literally lost her, four times in four hours. I cried three times and my wife sat there and complained. I wanted to die. My stress levels were so high I started to pass out … while driving. My wife doesn’t understand. Now she wants me to have my right to have a license go back under review. If I lose my license I am screwed and she doesn’t understand how screwed we will be. I can drive wonderfully as long as I am not overly stressed or under medicated or over medicated.

Stress sucks, but it is built in to having a toddler. I am getting better, but I doubt I will ever be perfect.

Did I mention I want another one?

Moving … Finally

So we got the keys to our new house on the 26th of July and the movers come on the 2nd of August. It is official, we are home owners!

House Monsanto

It is a cape cod 1.5 story 3brd 2bth home that also has a finished basement. Flat, beautiful backyard with two mature trees in it. No garage or carport, but we may add a carport at a later date.

We are ecstatic! This is the house we wanted to begin with, but they turned down our offer and eventually took an offer from us that was $7500 less that our initial offer, their loss is our gain.

I believe that once we are moved in I may post of video tour of the place.

Another Note

We had to switch to a mail order pharmacy and, long story short, I am out of my main anti-psychotic and will be until Monday at the earliest. That is not a good thing.

 

Happy Me is Happy.

Hard At Work

I started working on my almost fictional memoir/biography quite some time ago. It has gone through many titles and I recently gave it a new one: Ramblings of an Uncut Mind. I chose it because my poetry collection is titled Poetic Visions of an Uncut Mind and when doing nonfiction (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) I am trying for stability that way if the book gets picked up then perhaps they will pick up the collection for republication. I have big hopes and dreams, but if you can’t dream big then why hope to dream at all?

I say the piece is “almost fictional” because I am not sure what is real and what is not. What is fact to me, may be a lie to someone else. My therapist told me I should leave it alone (trying to figure out what is real or imagined) and just live my life, but that is hard when you are a writer, especially if you are writing a memoir. So I have taken what I think I know and written it down and if something contradicts that in my mind then I write that as well, explaining that I have two or more memories of the same event or time period.

So most of my time has been spent working on that. The rest is spent writing poetry, cleaning the apartment, trying to buy a house, taking care of my daughter and finding time to show my wife some love. As I write this I have to say I feel sorry for her because as much of a bitch that she can be, she still has to deal with a (medicated)schizophrenic, former drug addict, smoker, pathological liar who happens to be an aspiring author. That is not to say that I don’t feel that she still treats me unfair at times, it is just to say that she has it just as rough, if not more, as I do dealing with her unmedicated ass who is sick constantly and whines when she is not bitching, screaming, or not listening to a word I say, not to mention never taking my feelings, thoughts, or sicknesses in mind.

So if you are wondering why I haven’t been posting so much, now you know.

A quick update:

  • The 2 year old is sleeping through the night in her own bed, but never past 6:30 am.
  • The wife is looking for a better job that won’t treat her like a door mat.
  • We have found a house, pending inspection (Monday), that we should be in by mid-August.
  • I think my best friend is trying to get in my wife’s pants as his wife’s pants are currently in the possession of another of our friends (complicated). I may write about this when I have time.
  • My medication is working splendidly. Anxiety is at a 25% level and paranoia is at a 35% level, but the hallucinations are at a 5% level and the emotional response is up 300%. Moods are stable for the most part and I am seeing signs of real happiness.

Would love to hear from any of you readers that would like to say something.

Writing Is My Mistress

I recently have posted a few pieces of poetry because it and the novel I am working on have consumed a lot of my life.

We are still looking for a house and getting very impatient. We have to have an accepted contract by the end of this month at the latest. Tomorrow I am supposed to go look some more and hopefully I will find “the one”.

My psych increased my main anti-psychotic med and it will take a week or two to find out if it makes me “normal” as that is the ultimate goal, that and being able to take care of my daughter. If it helps even a little bit my wife and I will be trying to have another baby.

So all of that and keeping the house (cleaning and cooking) should leave me with no time, but I steal away and find time to write. Sometimes I don’t sleep and sometimes I skip cleaning and cooking. I try my hardest, but sometime I even neglect my family to write.

I have gotten more than several rejection letters over the last month (10) and I am trying to not let that put me down. I am still waiting on five others, but I don’t have high expectations. I decided to send out 15 submissions at a time and wait. The next round is coming and I don’t have enough to send out. I need 3-5 pieces for each submission unless the journals/magazines take simultaneous submissions.

So expect to see pieces of poetry more often as I will be posting my scraps here to keep a record of them. If you have a comment that could help me improve please speak your mind. If you think I should give up entirely I am not sure I want to hear that.

Here is another piece to read:

Cold But Not Alone

Belched beer,
regurgitated booze
all reminds me
of home,
of him.

Warmth at
my hairline,
a caress
of my ass –
sliding around
to the front
as I slip
from his
grip
only to fall
over his legs
wrapped
around me.

A boy can only take so much.

Bricks burn
when hot enough
and screams
get so high-pitched
you can’t
even hear them
anymore.

They both deserved to die;

him
for being him
and her
for not being
who she
should have been.

And I ran.
I ran
until
I could see
the smoke
no more.

I ran
until
I was
no more.

I ran
until
the boy
became
a man.

And then
this teenage man
was alone
and cold
and lost,

but there was hope to be found in the alleys,
hope shoved in my hand
and pointed
at another man
only existing
in the wrong
part of town.

So blood.

Hands dirty
and never
could they
be clean
again.

So I ran,
but not far.

I found a spot
under an overpass,
where Amelio
proclaimed,
forever in red paint,
that he
loved Kelly

and that was my new home.

I collected
things,
mundane things,
to make my nest,
my new home

and I found friends,
friends who found me,
who offered
more conversation
than anyone
I had
ever met
before.

But then
the cars
started looking
at me

and people
were screaming
at me

and I didn’t
know what to do,

so I hid
with my remaining friends,
feline, fauna and Hector
and we shut out the world together.

Hector,
the hippie from Los Angeles,
just wandered out into traffic
and I have to go after him.

Mood Swings, Drugs, Medications, Houses and Toddler Beds

I feel like I have never felt before. Before the drugs (the majority of them) and before the medications I kind of remember being a angsty preteen pain in my absentee parent’s rear. During that time moods were being thrown all over the place, but the only control that was to be had was whatever environmental factors that I could avoid or get in to.

When I increased the usage of illicit drugs I still had little to no control over my emotions, but then there were very little emotions to be had. The psychotic episodes began and my conscience went on vacation.

I then got on medications and everything went blank. I was forcing any emotion that would almost come and I didn’t think I would ever be anything but what I was right then.

Now things are different again. I have come to realize that emotions are hard, if not impossible, to control and I do have them – they were just being smothered by the drugs (legal and not).

Off the pain medication and on the right meds I have emotions, real ones. Depression is a passing thing not a state of being. I know what love, not obsession, is. I know what it means to be, or want to be, co-dependent as opposed to independent and dependent.

My words are being saved for something else right now, but I can say I feel like the bright summer sun that just found the break in the clouds from a deluge that had lasted for days, weeks, months, or even years.

We are house hunting right now and the clouds streak in front of me occasionally because I know, due to my past, that I am only an assistant in the process. I mean it will be mine and the decision is half mine, but everything will be and is in my wife’s name. A sense of ownership is hard to find and therefore pride is difficult to inflate, which may be a good thing, but my pride has not existed for a while now – a little would be nice.

When I started this blog we were having sleep issues with my two year old. If she wouldn’t sleep it would nearly kill me to stay up. I would breakdown and not recover for days. Now she is in a toddler bed, sleeping through the night, except the time I am going to talk about, and is a good sleeper – for the most part.

We put her to bed every night using the same routine and she still listens to a CD of me singing to her, but she goes down without much of a fuss, doesn’t get out of bed and sleeps through the night, except the other night.

I left my office at 10:45 pm and as I hit the hallway she started crying. I waited, but it only got worse. I went in to talk to her, but she wanted nothing to do with it. Finally she agreed to sleep on the couch. I should have never agreed to that.

Long story short, I was up all night watching movies and reading books to her (she has a back molar coming in we found out). The point is I was tired, but fine. No breakdown and no days to recover.

Things are looking up.

I will keep you abreast of the house situation and the new baby try (surprise).

What else would you like to know about me or my life?