Anxiety and panic attacks have always been bad for me, but I started doing well, until March of this year. I started losing control again. It was par for the course during one of my panic attacks for me to self harm or destroy my stuff. Before, I never would have touched my fiancé's stuff because the objective of these meltdowns was to punish myself for the horrible person I thought I was. I'd cut off my hair. I'd destroy the drawings I treasured the most. I'd cut up my favorite dresses. I'd put myself fully clothed into a bathtub of scorching hot water.
These times were different though. These times I didn't want to punish myself. These times I would feel attacked and go on the offensive. That was not who I normally was. I'm the kind of person that can't swat a mosquito. I'm small, i'm soft spoken, i'm very nurturing, and i'm very compassionate. Not these times.
It started to get really scary. First, I broke a couple of my fiancé's things. Next, I punched him in the chest. The last time, I threatened him with a scalpel, and when he took it away, I tried to choke him. Granted, it'd be hard for me to physically hurt him. He is very strong and I didn't have full conviction behind my actions; but the last straw was the thoughts. I'd have these terrible thoughts, anytime I was triggered, of wanting to cause bodily harm to my fiancé, thinking to myself, "It'd be best to attack him in his sleep." Then another thought entered immediately, "This must be how my mother would feel before she'd beat me."
This happened over the span of a couple days, so we saw my therapist right away. My therapist identified the fact that I had started spending a significant amount of time with my mother and that, in many ways, she was attacking my boundaries - but I wasn't consciously noticing because I was so used to it.
When my fiancé described who I reverted into, she called it "raw", "old", and very "primitive" almost like a "child". She said that my earliest trauma must have happened as a small child before any of my coping mechanisms were able to form. We had to do something, and we had to do it fast.
For some reason, the idea that my angry state was a temperamental child really inspired me. The degree I'm pursuing is child development and I had recently learned about how autistic children are hyper sensitive to stimulation. Autistic children need special spaces and sensory toys when they're being overwhelmed. The next thought that hit me was of me, probably as a preschooler, playing in the ball pit at Chuck-E-Cheese. I LOVED that ball pit, and I was heartbroken when I turned 8 and one of the employees told me I was too big to go in anymore. That disappointment welled up inside me and I very defiantly decided, "I'm going to make my OWN ball pit."
It has been the perfect tool for me. When I would get angry and could run and jump into my ball pit. My body would slip beneath them and you'd hear them "whoosh." During a particularly angry episode, I threw the balls at the wall. It was completely satisfying and damage free. Another time, when my fiancé "invaded my space" I threw the balls at him. He got the message but didn't get hurt.
Since March, I've only had to use it 5 times. Sometimes, my best friend who is also sufferers from severe anxiety will come over. During her previous visits, she'd fidget and seem out of place. So, I took her to my ball pit and I could see her completely unwind. We could talk and talk and talk and our hands were always busy fiddling around with the balls, throwing them around, etc. Sometimes, when she has a rough day, she'll text me and say, "Can we ball pit?"
I would recommend it to anybody that has fond memories of ball pits. This was my way of recapturing a piece of my childhood that I loved but was denied. It was also my way of saying, "UP YOURS! I HAVE MY OWN BALL PIT NOW, NAH NUH NAH NUH NAAHH NUH!" Take that Chuck-E-Cheese employee. Your ball pit are belong to me!
These times were different though. These times I didn't want to punish myself. These times I would feel attacked and go on the offensive. That was not who I normally was. I'm the kind of person that can't swat a mosquito. I'm small, i'm soft spoken, i'm very nurturing, and i'm very compassionate. Not these times.
It started to get really scary. First, I broke a couple of my fiancé's things. Next, I punched him in the chest. The last time, I threatened him with a scalpel, and when he took it away, I tried to choke him. Granted, it'd be hard for me to physically hurt him. He is very strong and I didn't have full conviction behind my actions; but the last straw was the thoughts. I'd have these terrible thoughts, anytime I was triggered, of wanting to cause bodily harm to my fiancé, thinking to myself, "It'd be best to attack him in his sleep." Then another thought entered immediately, "This must be how my mother would feel before she'd beat me."
This happened over the span of a couple days, so we saw my therapist right away. My therapist identified the fact that I had started spending a significant amount of time with my mother and that, in many ways, she was attacking my boundaries - but I wasn't consciously noticing because I was so used to it.
When my fiancé described who I reverted into, she called it "raw", "old", and very "primitive" almost like a "child". She said that my earliest trauma must have happened as a small child before any of my coping mechanisms were able to form. We had to do something, and we had to do it fast.
For some reason, the idea that my angry state was a temperamental child really inspired me. The degree I'm pursuing is child development and I had recently learned about how autistic children are hyper sensitive to stimulation. Autistic children need special spaces and sensory toys when they're being overwhelmed. The next thought that hit me was of me, probably as a preschooler, playing in the ball pit at Chuck-E-Cheese. I LOVED that ball pit, and I was heartbroken when I turned 8 and one of the employees told me I was too big to go in anymore. That disappointment welled up inside me and I very defiantly decided, "I'm going to make my OWN ball pit."
It has been the perfect tool for me. When I would get angry and could run and jump into my ball pit. My body would slip beneath them and you'd hear them "whoosh." During a particularly angry episode, I threw the balls at the wall. It was completely satisfying and damage free. Another time, when my fiancé "invaded my space" I threw the balls at him. He got the message but didn't get hurt.
Since March, I've only had to use it 5 times. Sometimes, my best friend who is also sufferers from severe anxiety will come over. During her previous visits, she'd fidget and seem out of place. So, I took her to my ball pit and I could see her completely unwind. We could talk and talk and talk and our hands were always busy fiddling around with the balls, throwing them around, etc. Sometimes, when she has a rough day, she'll text me and say, "Can we ball pit?"
I would recommend it to anybody that has fond memories of ball pits. This was my way of recapturing a piece of my childhood that I loved but was denied. It was also my way of saying, "UP YOURS! I HAVE MY OWN BALL PIT NOW, NAH NUH NAH NUH NAAHH NUH!" Take that Chuck-E-Cheese employee. Your ball pit are belong to me!
