I need to feel happy today. I want to smile but I simply can’t.
Alphonse tipped over our dining room table yesterday at noon, smashing its glass to bits. The antique table is damaged, with shards of glass embedded deep into the grain of the wood. I hope we can salvage it; this dining table has been in my family since I was five; it was a gift from my parents when I moved away. The glass of the small china cabinet in the dining room was also smashed but the cabinet is intact. Then last night, annoyed at some slight, he threw our dish drainer to the floor, breaking several pieces of Corelle glassware and A’s latest gift to me- my new, barely week-old, twice-used Kimmidoll mug. Even the melamine dishes were not spared, as the violence of his action pulverized some pieces to smithereens.
Today, as soon as he woke up, it was a cycle of nonstop anger and smashing of things again. He upended shelves and tossed the pictures on his schoolhouse wall. He’s very angry and we don’t know why. He cries a lot and we don’t have a clue to what is going on inside his head. It’s very hard to predict Alphonse’s moods. One minute he can be quiet and meek, the next he will get into such a tornado of fury that nothing can stop the force of his explosive anger.
I admit to having shed some tears, not at the loss of these material possessions, but at my inability to understand Alphonse these days. I called A from work yesterday at noon; he went home to help with Alphonse while I cleaned up all the glass scattered inside the house. And then we went for a ride and he let me cry for a while in the car. I promised myself when this all started that I will not cry, that I will force myself to be stronger this time, but if I don’t, I know I will die of a broken heart. Our house is in shambles; our lives are in disarray. It makes me feel so helpless when Alphonse gets these rages. My husband comforts me by reminding me that Alphonse listens to me most of all, but how can that be anything than a trifling consolation when there are still many moments when I can’t reach him or get through to him?
We are slowly drowning again. Oh, God, please help us.