The Monster
There is much to the story still to tell.
I think it's time to talk about the hard stuff. The things I've only glossed over, not wanting to strip down what was left of our walls, the part of our life that we made sure happened only when we were protected by the privacy of our home and the muzzle on our hearts.
It's time to talk about the monster. I somehow can't remember the very first time it reared it's head. Maybe because it was always there. Abbie cried, for what seems like, the first four months of her life. She was inconsolable. It seemed to be off and on all day but was especially desperate when I was trying to breast feed her. I had to endure my infant writhing in, what seemed like, agony. I'm exhausted even thinking about how to recall all the things we tried - elimination diets, - first for me and then eventually for her as she got older, which in itself, is exasperating - supplements, chiropractors, doctors, so many doctors. Alas, I was left with nothing but our own grief and hope that one day it would pass.
Eventually the colic did pass but when one door closes, another opens. Abbie couldn't be potty trained. Of course, why wouldn't we find strife in this area as well?! Abbie had a very rare condition that would interfere with her ability to even be aware that her lower functions were leaking. It was something that took medication, pelvic physical therapy and even a gastroenterologist to try and remedy. None of which worked. In an effort to spare my beautiful young daughter her dignity, I won't spend a lot of time on this chapter but when I say it was a struggle, I mean it was something that, to this day, was debatably the most challenging part of her childhood well into adolescence. It wasn't her fault.
Then there was the rage. Abbie would explain it as something separate from herself, and she called it "The Monster". We could see it coming. We would see the second it was triggered. The act of her trying to control it was nearly uglier than when it would finally unleash. It would start with small destructive behavior, growling and strange elevated laughter. Then violence and then pure and utter rage writhing in her body. Her body would stretch out and then recoil and SCREEEAM. These episodes were otherworldly. That's how I always explained it to the doctors: Otherworldly. It could last upwards of 1-1/2 hours until she completely exhausted herself, sometimes until her lips were blue or she would nearly vomit. Once she screamed so hard for so long her vocal cord hemorrhaged, bright red blood gushed from her mouth and scared her quiet. I'll never forget it. The things she would later say to try and explain it are really difficult to repeat. They were so important that I wrote them down as to never forget. I knew for some reason that one day it would be important. I just now opened my journal to find them. Some examples are:
“I feel like there is a monster inside me and it wants to kill me on the inside and the only way to let it out is with rage and it comes in waves that hurt me." -Age 8
"I just wish I could die and come back normal like everyone else. I don’t know why God wants me to live like this." -Age 7
"Sometimes I feel like I have all the emotions at the same time and they’re all in the wrong place and they’re all competing with each other. Anger is the strongest, it feels like it controls me. Sadness just makes me feel like I’m melting. But the one I hate the most is the one that doesn’t feel at all." -Age 8
"I need help. I need help. I need help with my life so I don’t have to feel like this anymore." -Age 9
"Sometimes I miss Abby or maybe I don’t know who that is anymore." -Age 9
I just read that back to myself and it shakes me to my core. This was real, guys. This was our life. All the time. One of the hardest days of my life (up to that point) was during an episode that was so violent - she tried to get out of the car on the freeway, tearing up everything I own in the car, I worried the skin would rip off her bones she was so enraged. I was terrified and not equipped for this kind of illness. In a desperate moment I took her to a behavioral health hospital and they kept her for three days. I realized very quickly it was a mistake. What she went through in there, alone and away from her parents and scared. I will never let go of the regret I felt but I can't describe what it took to put me there.
It doesn't end there. I've told you about how much trouble she was in at school. Sometimes these episodes would happen there too. Abbie had terrible impulses that she once described as:
"My lizard brain is the one that makes bad decisions before my other brain can stop it." -Age 6
Abbie's impulses and rage would eventually get her kicked out of two preschools, two elementary schools, two middle schools, three after school programs, a multitude of summer camps, Girl Scouts, Girls on the Run, dance classes... the fear of that phone call that an incident had happened became too much to bare.
Eventually, with the help of behavioral therapy, mood stabilizers (also known as A-typical anti psychotic medications) and just growing up, The Monster retreated to a dark corner, hidden away until 12, when puberty came.
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