Acting Out

I’m the youngest of eleven kids. As such, my house was always full of noise, I don’t think ‘quiet’ was in anybody’s vocabulary back then, not even mine. Now, as a kid I wasn’t exactly a balanced individual. I was the most hyper tiny human on this planet. (Who thought he was Johnny Cage) I don’t think I slept very much and I could run back and forth all day long without stopping until I randomly passed out mid-run like a narcoleptic Olympic sprinter.  And that was just the first third of it. Secondly, when I was little I used to have mood swings that would rival American Psycho. It wasn’t until I looked back as an adult, that I realized where these little fits of mine came from.

There was always noise; someone would play the one radio in their room really loud while they did chores (Mostly heavy metal. Usually the heavy metal was coming from my mom’s room on her days off) or the TV would be on when somebody wanted to watch a show, sometimes both happened simultaneously. There was a constant noise of people, lots of yelling and running around playing throughout the house and then pouring into the outside. At first, all would be well; I’d holler and chase after everybody just fine. 

But then something would happen. Seeing it from an outsider perspective, I would be playing along just fine and then I’d suddenly throw a tantrum and be mad at someone. I’d start crying and go running to my mom over the smallest thing that I could perceive as an insult before I threw myself around and then went running into the bedroom. I’d get into my bed, turn on my Walkman and then turn it up so I couldn’t hear anyone else. I’d cuddle up to my soft toys (generally I had one big large fluffy cat toy, I had my own Hobbes as a child and I took him everywhere. I still have him today as a matter of fact) and then cry it out. My mom (being as awesome as she is) just let me get over it on my own nicely letting me have some space. Once I did that, I’d come back and be a normal person again.

Now, from my kid perspective: I was having a great time playing. Suddenly my skin would start to hurt and I’d feel very heavy. All of the noises got loud and bright, my periphery would fill up with all the different colored noise and then suddenly, everything that everybody did irritated me and made my skin twinge painfully. Then, somebody would make a pretty harmless joke at me, but I’d immediately assume they didn’t like me, that they were making fun of me. I’d go whine to my mom and then tromp off to the bedroom to do aforementioned whining. One exception, when I put on those headphones, my periphery filled with soothing colors and I wasn’t being inundated with bright yellows, browns and oranges, I’d get greens or blues or purples depending on the tape. This music also did one other thing, it soothed my skin. All the heavy sound that had been pelting me all day would get massaged out by Eric Clapton, Sting, or Kenny Loggins.  (My favorite song of his was: All the Pretty Little Ponies. It’s a very beautiful sparkling blue and purple song. It’s really soothing and to this day I still like it.)

Once all the irritation left my skin and I no longer felt saturated I’d go back to join the normal household. I’d be just fine and acting like nothing happened. Unfortunately, this particular situation was part of daily life for me. I’d have these little freakouts all the time. My mom assumed it had something to do with my sugar intake. Now, we didn’t have a lot of money so we didn’t have dessert in our house.  (Actually, even as an adult I can’t wrap my head around dessert being part of a normal dinner sequence.) However, on special occasions we would have just enough to get one of those big buckets of ice cream so that everyone at the house could have some.

Whenever I’d eat ice cream, I’d get hyper (which, for a hyperactive kid is like a tornado of sugar fueled hellfire) and start acting up quicker. With my hyperactivity came more noise, more sounds, my periphery would go nuts because I was being louder and more destructive. So, my mom decided that I wasn’t allowed to eat sugary stuff anymore and quickly quit buying the ice cream. She didn’t admonish me, but I remember one time I asked her why she didn’t do that anymore and she was honest with me about it. It didn’t hurt my feelings ‘cause I just figured since she was my mom, she must be right.

Unfortunately this didn’t completely stop my rampant tantrums and my mom didn’t know what to do. So, she talked to her doctor who suggested that I take vitamins. So, she bought some Flinstone’s vitamins to give me with my breakfast. (Vitamin aftertaste, groooooossss!) However, instead of fixing my rampant unpredictable moods, they amplified my bad behavior four fold. I was more hyper than I’d ever been and acted out just as much, if not more because I had vitamin fuel. Those vitamins didn’t last long in my house.   

 So, that's how acting out usually happened with me. My ultimate answer to all of this: Never eat Flinstone's vitamins.