A Thief in the Night

I try to go to sleep, and my mind starts to race in many directions, and it's very hard to keep up with the thought that I want to stay focused on. This lasts for a little more than several hours, and I have to get up every now and then to light up a cigarette, go back to bed, and try my best to rest my weary eyes.
Just when I start to doze off, the alarm starts ringing, and that's when the day heads south. I let out a half-whispered curse word, and stumble to the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Already, I hate the day, and probably (no one's up yet) everyone that's around me. I can feel it coming. I feel the hatred pulsating through my veins, and I'm not sure why, but I'm starting to talk to the air around me, muttering hateful things. I yell for the kids to get their hind ends up, that it's time to get ready for school. Poor babies, I think to myself, they're gonna have a hell of a morning to wake up to. Why do I continue with this attitude, knowing what my kids are going to have to go through? I hate myself. I get the kids off to school, and a sigh of relief comes out of me, not because I don't want my kids around, but I know if they are not around me on days like this, the less bullcrap they'll have to see and go through, and listen to. Poor, Poor babies.
My husband gets up, and I'm not so lenient on him, and not sure why cause I love him just as much as I do the Kids, but I'm almost willing for him to see the bad side of me, almost like I'm wanting him to understand it, as much as I want to. I'm hateful to him. Oh, God, here we go. The fights on. The meaner I get, the meaner he gets. But, I won't give up. Now, I start to scream, and throw things and say the most hateful, cruel, and inhumane things to my husband, and no man, woman, or child should ever have to hear it. But, now it's to the point of no return. I am hearing myself, but it's not me, I'm seeing myself, but it's not me. Who the hell is that that has taken over my body and words? The same person who took over my mind the night before? A thief, and a good one. Now, I'm scaring myself. The voices start to take over. Telling me to leave the man that I love more than life itself, telling me that I can make it on my own. The same voice that tells me that I'm not crazy, and that I don't need this stinking medicine. I yell some more, but not at my husband, at the voice. I grab my own head, and fall to my knees. Help me! I scream to my husband. Make it stop! I cry, I sob, I feel like I'm dying, I want to die. Thank God, my kids are not here. If I can control this long enough for my kids to get ready for school and leave to get on the bus, why do I let go so fast after they are gone? Because, when they are here, or someone else is around and I don't want them to see, I still feel like I'm going to explode, but thank god, I can fight it just long enough to wait til they are gone. This is usually what happens when I don't take my medicine. I may not be explaining it to the full extent, and emotional level that actually takes place, but I assure you that it is awful, and it is only one type of thing that I have to go through without my medicine, thank God, that I have a husband who loves me for who I am, and doesn't want me any other way. Thank God, for my medicine.