Out of Vulnerability

Note: this is something I wrote many weeks ago that I thought I would never publish. It was the end of a long day at the end of a long week and I wrote from a very raw place. I knew that wasn’t the mindset from which to choose to publish something for all the internets to read, so I put it aside. Now looking back on it and with encouragement from my husband I am choosing to post it in hopes that other parents can see themselves in my vulnerability and know they aren’t alone.

I do not always feel stable emotionally. I struggle to stay calm for my sensitive child and self. One week – pms/period, husband sick, irregular school schedule, E sick, sore throat, tv on all day, dishes piled up, easter parties bringing candy into our bodies and the house. Too much. I snapped putting the kids to bed. I let them stay up late to finish a movie then brought their toothbrushes to them in bed and, as I’m helping M with her teeth E drops his toothbrush on my head from his bunk bed above 🌋💣💥🤯 I SNAPPED! that was so rude! What did you do that for? Inappropriate! You can put yourself to bed! And I walked out and closed the door to the sounds of my beautiful, sensitive boy’s screams and cries don’t you come out of that room! I love you very much. I will check on you in 5 minutes. But he couldn’t stand it. I can’t stand it if I think someone I love is mad at me either. But I couldn’t engage at the moment, my heels deeply dug into the rut I created. My sick husband rose to save me from myself once again. Tomorrow I will apologize and my son will forgive me because he is gracious and understands what it’s like to explode, but it will take me much longer to forgive myself. The self that wants to be a loving mother in all circumstances. The self that wants to be perfect. The self that struggles with compassion for my own sensitive being. The self who has experienced far too many ‘bad weeks’ in 7 years to still not know how to manage them. The self that is judgemental. The self that worries about screwing my kids up. It’s a lot to hold in my little body and I can’t hold it all so I watch Beyonce’s Netflix special and write this instead of caring for my body and my mind. I wonder how long I will struggle like this? I wonder if I am as terrible a person as I feel, as that critical voice in my head tells me I am? Or is this a completely normal experience as a mom but is shamed because few people share it?