Yesterday, I had a tantrum.
We have been dealing with an issue in our kitchen. For days, repair people have been trying to find the source of the problem. Today, is Rip Out the Wall Day. When they told me they needed us to empty our cabinets and countertop, I had reached my anxiety limit. My poor husband came home to a wife with a whirling brain filled with "this will never be fixed and we have to move" mania. He looked at me and said, "Calm down. Don't worry." That's when it happened.
I had an adult tantrum.
I ranted about all the stressful and bad things that I was sure were going to happen... without any evidence that they would, of course. I went on and on in an attempt to get him to see that I was upset, struggling, at my wits' end.
And then suddenly, the pit in my stomach was gone and I felt calmer.
Today, I feel more able to think clearly. I can actually feel like whatever happens, happens. I needed to release the tension of what I've been juggling the past few days and my inability to control this situation. I needed to have that tantrum.
This experience has me thinking back about when my son (now almost 25 years old) used to have tantrums when he was a young child. Did he feel like a pressure cooker? I did. Did the tension need to be released? That's how I felt. Did he just want us to notice his emotional pain? I acted that way. Sometimes, we need to let the children open up the pressure valve and express that they are struggling.
Thankfully, my husband understands that my "Don't you get it?" wasn't about him at all. It was all about me and a brain that so desperately needed to stop the anxiety loop that it could no longer be contained. I feel for those children.