Last night I blew up and had a full-on manic temper tantrum. I forcefully threw my iPad down and then proceeded to flip over the kitchen table. Crap. I was at the end of my rope. I had overdone it over the weekend, painting the exterior of our house in extreme heat (and too much sun). My husband and I were arguing over home renovations, and I lost it, completely. I hate it when I lose it. At the time, our son was wearing noise cancelling earphones and playing a video game in his room, but he did see me ramping up earlier in the evening, getting increasingly irritable, argumentative, and reactive. I kept telling my husband that I wasn’t well, had overdone it, and couldn’t deal with discussing the home renovations.
After isolating myself in our bedroom for a while to cool off (and pack an overnight bag, which I did not use), I came back downstairs, and my husband was on the phone with family members trying to find out how his oldest brother was doing. His brother’s cancer has rapidly progressed to stage 4. Our 14-year old son came downstairs and tried to lighten the mood by reminding us of family members who successfully fought off cancer, including my mother who faced stage 4 twice and survived. Our teenage son was the voice of reason amidst rage, anxiety, and despair. He shouldn’t have to endure my unacceptable behavior, our arguing, or our worries. Prayers are welcome and appreciated.