It was just over two weeks ago on a bright, sunny day that I truly grasped how profoundly the ongoing pandemic and enforced social distancing had impacted me. I realized it was affecting my ability to parent, communicate, and assess my own mental health and energy levels accurately.
If you were to categorize my parenting approach, you might say I lean towards a near free-range style. We encourage our children to explore their surroundings. In fact, we chose to live in coastal Maine specifically to give our kids the freedom to roam. They are adventurous, capable little explorers, so it was hardly unusual for us to be navigating rocks by the water. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. In our household, our moods are closely tied to our time outdoors, and with the lovely weather and family togetherness, we were on track for an ideal day.
As my two-year-old son climbed and ventured around, I sensed that my typical tolerance for manageable risks was waning, yet I fought the instinct to curb his exploration. When his focus shifted and he began to descend, I found myself paralyzed with fear, screaming at the top of my lungs from a place of deep terror. All I could envision was him tumbling off the edge of a cliff into the ocean. My partner, watching me with concern, attended to our son and ensured he was safe. He then asked me to come and see where our son had been climbing. There was no cliff. In reality, the rock was only about six inches high.
I felt my heart racing and my throat constricting. Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed, allowing myself to release the pent-up tension until I could breathe again.
It has taken me quite some time to share this experience because I’ve been reflecting on it daily, trying to comprehend how I could have felt so triggered and yet so unaware of my own nervous system’s state. The realization? Trauma. A dear friend of mine, Laura Simmons, recently pointed out that anything that renders us feeling unsafe in our bodies can be perceived as traumatic by our minds and bodies.
What troubles me most is the understanding that I am not coping as well as I once believed and that my perception of reality is somewhat skewed. Observing threats where none exist is a clear indicator that my sympathetic nervous system—the part responsible for our fight-or-flight response—is in overdrive.
I know I’m not alone in experiencing this heightened sense of danger. Many parents are navigating their days with an acute awareness of potential threats that aren’t really there. The burden of holding space for our families in these times is overwhelming. We cannot be everything to everyone, and clearly, this approach is not sustainable for me. I’ve begun to view our current health crisis as a form of tension, akin to the forces experienced during an earthquake. The uncertainty at the core of our situation creates immense pressure on aspects of our lives that may have already been fragile—our fault lines, if you will.
We must allow ourselves the space to break down, to release the tension. If we don’t, we risk total collapse, an earthquake that shakes us to our very foundation.
So, I offer you this narrative as permission. It’s okay not to be okay. It’s acceptable to fall apart, to cry until you can breathe again. And be gentle with yourself when the threat you perceived turns out to be more of a monster in the closet than a real danger.
This piece was originally published on May 13, 2020. For more insights on parenting and navigating these challenging times, check out this article. If you’re looking for valuable information on baby names, this site can provide authoritative guidance. Additionally, this resource is excellent for those exploring pregnancy and home insemination options.
Summary
In a personal reflection, the author shares how the stress of the pandemic has deeply affected her parenting and mental state. She recounts a moment of overwhelming fear regarding her child’s safety, which highlighted her struggles with trauma and anxiety. Despite the beautiful day, she realized that her perception of danger was distorted, prompting a discussion about the importance of acknowledging and processing emotional turmoil. The narrative serves as a reminder that it’s okay to not be okay and encourages self-compassion during challenging times.