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I can't hack this. Boo is so difficult lately. She's defiant, she has screaming mimi temper tantrums and she hits me and I just don't know what to do with her. I don't know what to do with myself, either. I get SO angry with her when she's been doing this for hours, so angry that I scare myself. So angry that I have to leave the room so I don't do anything I'll regret. I regret enough as it is - it's mortifying to admit this, but I have sworn at her, which makes me feel horribly guilty and makes me cry.
I hate this. I hate this black rage that envelopes me when I've been listening to the whining, shrieking, screaming and crying for hours. I hate that she acts that way. I hate that nothing I do seems to help. I hate feeling like I have no control over her or over myself.
I've tried putting her in the corner. She stays there, but I don't think she sees it as a punishment. I've tried putting her in her playpen and putting her in her bed. It just transfers the screaming to another location. I've tried talking to her. I tell her not to hit/scream/have a fit. She nods and hugs and then 30 seconds later, she's doing it again. She goes from sweet and biddable to psycho and then back again in a matter of minutes. I never know how she's going to react to anything. Will she laugh? Will she scream? Will she do what she's told? Will she throw herself on the floor and start yelling? It's unbelievably frusrating.
I feel awful. I shouldn't lose my cool with her - I try and try and try and then, finally, something snaps in me and I yell. I try so hard not to. And when I do yell, I feel so guilty and scared and helpless. I usually wind up putting her in her bed and sitting in the bathroom, sobbing.
I've sat on the couch, holding her or the Bug and wondering if I shouldn't just give them up, find someone who's better at this than I am, who won't lose her shit every single day, who won't fuck them up for life. I'm terrified of what I'm doing to them, of what I'm doing to myself. I hate this angry, wound up person that I've become. I hate that I dread her waking up from her nap. I hate that her bedtime is my favourite time of day because it means that I won't have to deal with her for 12 hours. I hate that I feel this way about my daughter. It's so wrong.
I love her to pieces, even though this post doesn't sound that way. I do. I don't want to mess up my kids. I don't want to be angry all the time. I don't enjoy it. But I'm not enjoying any of this right now, either. It seems endless, like it's always going to be this way, like there's nothing to look forward to and it's never going to change. I'm just plodding along a never-ending trail, watching my happiness, my enthusiasm, my self just slipping away, listening to her pitch fits and feeling like a complete and utter failure as a mother.
I need help.