A colleague at work told me they had thought of me the day before. She asked if we had any meltdowns recently. I asked what she meant. She told me what a melt down was to her, a stroppy out burst; a defiance to an instruction; a refusal to eat tea. She then said our “melt downs” sound horrific, long-lasting and unrelenting. They sound scary and lonely.
We had a melt down this week. Usually it is just one of them, this time it was both. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does happen it is scary and lonely. Years ago, when it happened I called the police. The young rookie policeman arrived and proceeded to give me a lecture on parenting. This weeks involved a lot of aggression, aimed at me and intimidating behaviour. They are taller and stronger than me now, and they know it. Both went in to flashback mode. Re-living their traumatic background. Re-enacting their past. They have blank expressions. You can’t reason with them. You can’t talk logically. You have to hold on. You have to face the storm. It’s scary and lonely.
This meltdown didn’t last too long. Just for four hours or so. I had to block a couple of fists aimed at my face. I had the absolute anger. The looked of hatred. The barrage of utter nastiness.
I have made the conscious decision that this is domestic abuse. I should be open and honest. I have started to tell people. I have told school – they are arranging a meeting of professionals to support us. I have told my family – they continue to be amazing. I share our story with those I can trust, with those who don’t judge, with those who continually love us and respect us. I am a member of several online groups, who provide that collective support and friendship.
Reaching out and sharing helps, it doesn’t feel so scary and lonely