This post has been in my head for a while, but it’s a very emotional topic. I and I considered whether to share it. Then my favorite friend Ansie shared This post with me about “mom rage” and everything in this post resonated with me so much resonance that i was new that i had to share.
This is not about one of my children, but about me and how I experienced motherhood. It’s not about my husband either. They are not the cause of the deep, intense anger that I sometimes built up in myself. Rather, this is my story and my experience.
I don’t remember what day of the week it was or when it was exactly, but I still remember that evening exactly. It was the first time that I threw a mug into our aisle. It wasn’t something that just happened. It had been building for a few days. I felt like a volcano that bubbled silently under the earth and grew bigger, louder and louder. And just like a volcano, the bigger it got, the hotter it got. I could literally feel the heat of anger flow through my body. It was terrifying. I had no control over it. I tried to fight it. I retired to my room to be alone and try to stop the fire from raging.
1 child followed me.
2 children followed me.
1 child needed food.
1 child had to tell me a story.
1 child got a tantrum because I lay down for FIVE EFFING MINUTES.
When I got up to get what they needed, I felt the anger rise and explode like lava. Before I knew it, I threw the mug that was in my hand over the passage. It was equally frightening and equally liberating. I looked desperately for something else to throw. There was nothing. So I screamed. But I screamed so loudly, and in the original way I was scared.
(1 child waited for me to finish and then asked unmoved whether I could get the snack now)
The following silence was deafening. I swear I could actually hear my heart beating because it was beating so fast and so hard.
I made the food.
I listened to the stories.
Silent because I didn’t dare open my mouth. I wasn’t sure what was going to come out.
It was the first time that I experienced such intense anger that took control of my body. It was not the last time.
It is not something that I feel all the time. I’m not walking around like a big ball of rage. It happens slowly when I don’t really expect it and breaks out loud.
I don’t think there was one thing that made the anger boil over and explode as it did. I think it was a collection of little things that I just couldn’t keep under control, and the only way my body could get me to release them was to let this intense anger boil through my veins explode.
The past four years have been brutal for our family. We fought so many battles that I felt like I wake up every day, put out fires, fight for survival, feed people, schedule and repeat every day.
I don’t have time for myself, not really. I drown in the needs of my fellow human beings and I can’t even blame them for not asking me – but if not, who is?
The reality is that someone will do it. If I don’t have dinner tonight, someone in the house will make a plan. If I miss a meeting or buy the books a day late, the world will keep turning. If I say no and a child is disappointed, it will survive (and maybe even learn something).
I’m not sure how to do it.
If you have ever experienced this, you know that you are not alone. What you experience may not be covered in any parent book (although it should be), but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.
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