*and breathe* *Triggering*

I have a draw full of Diazepam and I want to take it all.

I can’t get rid of my rage right now. I am angry, so angry, I want to cry, I want to be violent!!!!! I can now understand how murders happen. I want to take pills. I think I will.

I attempted to talk to my Dad this morning about the situation at work. No matter how I try to approach the discussion with my parents, they both make me feel inadequate, stupid and in the wrong. As a result, because I can’t be articulate, I end up shouting, screaming and storming off.

So this morning, when I approached the situation, it was a nice change to actually get somewhere. I explained how I felt, the sitaution with the text message being forwarded, and that I felt awkward about going into work. My Dad explained that I should swallow my pride, explain that it wasn’t directed at her, just my general frustration, and to apologise.

So, I went into work, and did exactly that. She accepted my apology gracefully and we got to work. However, she had a cold today, and when I say cold, I don’t mean discreet coughs and sneezes, I mean blasting coughs that blew our heads off (and no hands in front of her mouth (urghhh), snorting, sniffing and generally making my skin crawl. It got so bad I had to put my headphones in, top volume, and absorb myself in my work to try and not hear it. I think part of it is her general mannerisms, but I also think part of it was a show… as if to say… look… I really am ill.

At lunchtime, my mum started a conversation with this member of staff (I can’t remember if I have named her before, but for privacy lets call her Ruby) about her being off sick while she was away. I don’t know what was actually said but when I came back into the office Ruby was in tears. And despite all her shortcomings – I felt a pang of empathy for her. I didn’t want her to be upset, I just wanted her to tow the line.

At  around 3pm, I was getting my things ready to go out to some property inspections when I suddenly remembered I had three appointments coming up in the next fortnight which I hadn’t cleared with my Mum. I asked her about it, and explained the time and date of the first one (Dentist to do my root canal), the second one (The ultrasound scan at the hospital) and the third one, a six month assesment with my psychiatrist. She seemed fine about it, but as soon as Ruby left the office she turned on me. Despite another member of staff being in the office, she had a go at me, telling me I should have kept my mouth shut, I was disrespectful, I was tactless, because I had brought up having time off in the office in front of Ruby, after she had just been disciplined about taking time off without permission.

I asked my mum why she was speaking to me like that, and she told me to shut up, and get on with my inspections. She spoke to me like I was a piece of shit she had just scraped off her shoe. I understand she is probably harder on me because I am her daughter and not solely an employee. Regardless of this, it was degrading, and patronising. I held it together until I had got into my car and driven away from the office before the tears came. I know I shouldn’t let her get to me like this but it makes me want to say, ‘Fuck it all, it isn’t worth it’ – why do I bust a gut to try and make her happy when she isn’t interested at all?! I spoke to Jen about it briefly, and she made me feel a little better, like she always does. I planned to write down how I was feeling that evening and maybe give it to her in a letter.

When I got home, I was still upset from the days events, so went to lie down in bed, and do some reading. In walks my Dad. ‘You shouldn’t bring things home from work. If you can’t do that maybe you shouldn’t be working there’. I tried to explain what happened today, as he had already heard the ‘other’ side of the story; he didn’t have time for mine. No matter what I said, he had a comeback. In the end, I gave up, and went back to my book. There was no point. No matter how hard I work, no matter how much I put myself out, it won’t be good enough. It won’t be right. Perhaps, my mum really only did give me a job as I needed one, and I am just an inconvenience to her.

So, I settled down and started watching a bit of TV. Rosa was flying around like a blue ass fly – she is lame so hasn’t been able to be exercised and it is now really taking its toll. She is a livewire at the best of times.

I walk out into the living room to find my Dad, holding one end of my favourite Joules gloves, and Rosa chewing the other end. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. He was just sitting there, holding it, letting her shred it. I hit the roof. I mean, what the hell? The anger and the rage inside me exploded. I wanted to scream, pull my hair out, pull someone elses hair out. I ran to my room and slammed the door as hard as I could. I couldn’t control myself, I was spiralling down into a rage that was simply uncontrollable.

A few seconds later, the door opens, and the two dogs comes running in, followed my by Dad who shouts at me, to not slam the door. He leaves, slamming the door behind him. Then, a few seconds later, he returns, throwing my coat and handbag into my room, and slamming the door again. A few seconds later, a few more of my things. He tells me if I am going to be like that, I can be like it with my things too, and slams the door again.

I am so angry. I’m angry at my mum and my dad, myself, my dogs. I don’t want to hurt them. I’m screaming at them but I won’t allow myself to hit them. It’s not fair on them. I have made them lie down on the floor out of my reach. I am now lying in bed and updating my blog has helped a little.

I don’t know how to feel. I am outrageously angry, but I am desperately sad. I have a draw full of Diazepam and I want to take it. I want to take it all, and forget about this confusion, the constant swirling thoughts and feelings, none of which I can identify. When I feel unable to articulate what I need to, it makes me want to hit out at people. I have a rage which is burning inside me and I can’t control it. For once, I don’t want to cut, but I do want to forget. Work doesn’t seem so important any more. I’ve been so tied up with getting everything done, to a high standard, to improve the professionalism of the business, and now I just don’t care. I had a long list of things in my head that I needed to do and now I can’t even think of a single one.

I have the Diazepam in front of me and there is nothing between me and it apart from … what? Nothing.


  1. Do not take them. Please, please, please. I understand that anger. It’s sudden and intense. I don’t get mad often or easily, but it’s that full on rage when it happens. I get it. Hold onto that. You’re not the only one and you can get through it. You’re amazing and I hate that you feel this way. Lemme know if you want to talk or just gab to distract you from this. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. X

  2. Am not hitting like because i don’t like the situation you are in. Please stay strong you have proved by the very fact you decided to sit and blog rather than reach for the pills you can do this. I said it once before but you need to give them an ultimatum either you are being trained to take over in which case they need to make you a partner now so everyone knows where they stand or you need to find another job you have the training and experience and I am pretty sure that leaving a job working for a parent does not count against you with most people. Keep you head held high

  3. Thank you (both). I hoped that blogging would help me diffuse a little and it has. The tablets are still there staring at me but I am starting to feel a little more rational now. I know how impossible it is to take a dangerous overdose with Valium but it would have felt good to potentially damage myself, to hurt myself again. I might just take a few more than I should and hopefully have some peaceful sleep tonight. I don’t know how to face things tomorrow. It has come so far now that even when a sitation arises I feel that immediate rage and feel like flying off the handle. I don’t know how to articulate so I get angry. 😦

  4. May I ask how old you are and why you are still living with your parents? It sounds like they are part of the problem sometimes….

    1. Hey.
      I’m 24. I moved out when I was 18, but unfortunately became unwell and went into hospital, coming out to live with a carer. Later I moved back with my parents as I was unable to look after myself. x

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