Way Outside Of My Comfort Zone.

I feel like a turd. No...I feel worse than that...

I feel like a big heap of unholy butt-sauce.

Last night's trip to the psychologist left me feeling very uneasy. This was the appointment where Doc wanted to see Jaysen frustrated. He wanted to observe Jaysen's naural coping skills for his frustration and anxiety, and from that we would form a plan on how to carry it from play, into "real life" situations. I understood the reasoning, but I didn't like it.

I had to set Jaysen off. On purpose. For no reason.

We started to play like we always do at Doc's. He suggested bowling. I insisted I bowl first, and kicked over the bowling pins before he got his turn to bowl. Jaysen got a little upset, stopped bowling, and went on to find something else to play with. I tried to redirect him to the bowling pins scattered about the floor, and told him he had to clean up my mess. He ignored me, making a Krabby Patty out of play food. I grabbed the Patty, took the hamburger part out of it, and told him that it was mine. He protested, and asked very nicely for it- I told him he could not have it. I then took his tape out of its box- put the tape in the play oven, and the box up on the windowsill.

Ooh- anxiety was setting in.

He was now intent on getting that patty from me. He started to get this half-wild half- anxious look in his eye. He gritted his teeth and started shaking. I wanted Doc to see this because I did not want to have to repeat it. My natural instinct, being Jaysen's mom, is: when I see the frustration and anxiety rising- I give him my full attention, try to calm him, and find out what is going on. Not to be the instigator, and then not comfort him. At that point, I was waaay out of my comfort zone.

On the way home, I talked to Jaysen about the visit. I told him I was sorry for being so mean at Doc's. I tried to explain that there were problems that came up in there, and Doc helped us deal with them. I told him that Doc was going to help teach us how to problem solve.

I don't think he understood, and I don't blame him. There was no reason why his mom was being mean all of the sudden. I was being horrible, making him feel dysregulated, and he didn't know why. He was being "good" and I was treating him like poo.

Ugh...I still feel 'ick' about it.