Breathing my Mind into Your Face

It’s 6:13 am on Tuesday. I had to dump half my first coffee because I poured my Liquid IV into it instead of the water cup standing next to my mug. That shit was disgusting. I’m standing because the last time I pressed the button to bring my desk to the standing position it locked in place and now it won’t work. Looks like I’m a full time stander now. Better for my health anyway. I had a well thought out itinerary for yesterday but ended up sleeping on the couch all afternoon. I slept very little the night before because I had a zip fizz energy powder a smidge after two and a ritalin on top of my daily adderall allotment. Lack of balance continues to cost me. Completely unnecessary energy increase on Sunday considering I spent 3:30 to 6 on the couch watching the Warriors / Kings basketball game. Now I’m back on track.  

I took this quiz to determine my trauma score on a scale of 1-10. I got a 1 which means I wasn’t very traumatized. I was never beaten, neglected or hungry. Worst was I was afraid of my dad and my parents bickered too much for my liking. So I can’t really blame childhood trauma on my drug and alcohol issues. Dad was scary though. The early memories I have of him are when he blew his top at some server in a diner and caused a scene and when he spanked me after I scratched another kid’s cornea with a long tree branch. When he’d tickle me I’d get scared because I couldn’t breathe and he tickled hard. I remember asking my Mom to please not tell Dad often. I dreaded my Dad’s look of disgust and disappointment when I would fuck up. He’d say, “What the hells the matter with you?” and “You jerk” to really get me down. I’m trying to reverse this behavior with my parenting style. Although last night when I was in the laundry room I heard a loud crash and lost my shit.

Me: “What the hell was that?!?!”

9 yr old son: “Sorry, sorry sorry. The chandelier fell”

Me: (coming into the kitchen to see the circular medieval looking wheel fixture on the kitchen table, torn out of the ceiling) “The chandelier fell?! How the hell did that happen? Were you hanging on it?

9 yr old son: (looking frightened) “I wasn’t hanging on it”

Me: “Were you messing with it?”

9 yr old son: “I was kind of spinning it”

Me: “You jackass, go to your room!”
–9 yr old runs to his room crying

–Wife tells me to cool out and asks for recap of what happened.

We decided to ground him for a week with no screen activity. Later I went into his room and apologized for losing my temper. I told him I was scared that he’d gotten hurt. I said that I know he’s curious and likes to investigate things but he can’t play with or use the furniture as a jungle gym. Not much different than the way my Dad would’ve reacted. I’ve got to figure out some parenting techniques other than fear inducement.