This morning began like any other; I woke up feeling fairly typical. My energy levels were neutral, not particularly high, but far from low. There were no pressing concerns weighing on my mind. Work deadlines were manageable, my children were home, cheerful, and in good health. We weren’t late for anything, no spills occurred, I stayed upright on the driveway, our dog remained in the yard, and all appliances were functioning properly. My jeans fit comfortably, the fridge was stocked, and I hadn’t run out of essentials like toilet paper or milk.
On the surface, this should have been a fantastic day. Yet, something felt off.
I attempted to rationalize my irritability; after all, it wasn’t that time of the month for me—I had already dealt with that a few weeks back. My sleep and nutrition had been adequate. I should have felt satisfied, but instead, I was restless and uneasy, spending the morning grappling with my unexplainable mood.
Thinking caffeine might help, I downed my usual cup and even paid for the person behind me in line—acts of kindness often lift my spirits. I reached out to a friend to chat about her new home project. I’ve found that focusing on someone else’s life can help me regain perspective and remember what truly matters.
Despite my efforts, frustration mounted. I felt guilty for my feelings, yet my tension escalated with each small annoyance. The television volume seemed unbearable, and instead of calmly addressing it, I snapped at my son to lower it, exclaiming that I was on the verge of losing control.
And I was. The noise felt almost physically painful, but when he turned it down, my discomfort didn’t subside.
With my head in my hands, I sought a calming breath. I sensed an impending eruption, yet had no clue why. My mood felt overpowering, and I couldn’t shake it. In moments like these, I often reflect on how fortunate I am—living in a cozy home, with healthy children, while many parents struggle with far more.
Yet there I was, stuck in a mood that wouldn’t budge. Eventually, I snapped—though I can’t recall what pushed me over the edge. It was likely something trivial, something that wouldn’t typically provoke such a reaction.
This is the reality for many parents; we often feel tightly wound and can only hold it together for so long. It doesn’t take much to push us over the edge. We sense ourselves nearing a breaking point, and despite our best intentions, we succumb. Then the guilt sets in, as we grapple with why we’ve reacted so strongly.
Interestingly, the act of losing control can sometimes serve as a necessary release, allowing us to recover from the day’s pressures. Perhaps it stems from the weight of responsibility that we carry, with little time for genuine breaks. As parents, even our downtime is filled with racing thoughts, endless to-do lists, and persistent worries.
As mothers, we may experience an unexplained anger, an urge to lash out, and we can’t always pinpoint its origin. So, we reach a breaking point, just as I did today, just as I have before, and likely will again.
Such occurrences are common. It’s inevitable that we’ll have moments where we lose our composure over minor issues. When we return to our usual selves, we often realize that our outbursts are rooted in deeper emotions. After all, no one truly wants to react as if the television’s volume is the end of the world. Our frustrations usually stem from feeling overwhelmed, bearing too much responsibility, or neglecting our own needs for too long.
And that’s perfectly okay. What matters is that we forgive ourselves, move forward, and strive to do better.
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