When Things Go Wrong

Just because of the nature of emotions and how the brain functions, it’s much easier to offer you advice when I am feeling good. When my mind is clear, I can access my accumulated knowledge on well-being and gracious living. It’s much harder to share when I F-ed up — when things go bad.

But I am committed to the practice of imperfect parenting — and to do that means not ‘acting’ perfect online either. And so I will be honest with you here.

I threw a massive Mom Tantrum this morning — my son started screaming from the backseat but would not tell me why. And when I slowed down the car and looked at him in the rearview mirror, he kept screaming and refused to say one word. This triggered me, and I slammed on the brake of the car, making the car bounce with fury, and screamed: “Are you hurt!! Do we need to pull over!! What is going on!!! You need to tell me right now!” — like uncomfortably loudly. Looking back, I know I did it to scare him into reacting because nothing else had worked, and I needed an answer as we were in the middle of the road.

Turns out he had a loose tooth that had taken a sharp turn on a bagel, and he was in excruciating pain 🤦‍♀️.

If you have baggage of any sort, Mom Tantrums will happen from time to time. And This morning sh%t got real.

I felt helpless and unseen and really out of control — although, at the time, I was feeling really in control, in control of my anger.

And my anger was valid, but the way I acted was not. The tantrum I threw. It was not ok. We are just out there living and trying to heal, and sh%t happens. We can do the work and get to a place of GoodAF; still, sh%t can happen. Do I feel extraordinarily bad right now? Yes. Do I also know that it’s just another day and moment in time and that I am ultimately OK, a good mom who makes mistakes? Yes, that too.

But no amount of good feelings will make the hurt go away - at first.

I had to feel it, but I tried so hard not to this morning.

After I dropped the kids off at school, I went for my walk - and the first 2 miles were ok, but by the 3rd mile, I could feel the emotion welling up with no place to go but out. I thought I had managed it by breathing it out and connecting in a kind way when I dropped my son off - but no, it was bigger than that.

So I drove home, and I sat down and cried. Like really cried. I allowed myself to acknowledge that what I did was wrong. I let myself get angry for all the valid reasons I should have been — I was driving and couldn’t see the problem, anyone else in the car could have jumped to help but they didn’t — and my son is hard when it comes to injuries. There have been so many times before where problems not this huge were portrayed to be. I was angry and needed to feel it.

I was also hurt. I didn’t want to yell and scream at my 11-year-old child. He was hurt. He was in pain, and I made him more afraid because I used fear to get him to respond. I don’t want to be that type of mother where my feelings matter more than his. And I take responsibility for that. There really isn’t a moment in life that constitutes a freakout where fear should be the parenting tactic. Getting mad and telling someone how you feel is important — but a Mom Tantrum like this, no.

But they happen — in fact, since I haven’t had one in over a year or two, actually made me feel worse — like everything I work on every day and everything I talk to you all about is for nothing. But in reality, that’s not true. Once I sat to feel my pain, I knew that I would be OK, I knew that I had made a mistake, but that mistake didn’t make me a Bad Mom. And it reminded me of the GoodAF Mom Pep Talk #5 on the podcast, where I remind you that: Moms make mistakes too.

And that’s what I said to myself: Moms make mistakes too. I will chalk this one up to bad circumstances and move on — of course, not until I make it right with my son this afternoon.

Once I calmed down, that’s when I listed a bunch of things to be grateful for - the house was empty when I came home, so I could wail freely. I had an extra hour today because of afterschool classes so this self-care time wouldn’t cut into my working hours. And I had my kids and my life. And the next time they freaked out, I could point to my own freak out and said — me too. I get it. Life’s hard, buddy. Me too. - Stef

What to read next:

Parenting with an Open Heart

My intention this month has been: I am capable of living with an open heart.

You would think that would be easy, but it is so not.

I had the kind of childhood that closed my heart off to me. It sealed up tight to keep me safe, to protect me. Cracking it open enough to hear what I actually need and want takes courage. It also takes a ton of practice. On top of that, I am not just fighting against my skewed worldview, in fact, we are all fighting every day to take control of our negativity bias. This bias runs much deeper than our childhood experiences, at an evolutionary level. It’s what kept our ancestors alive. And it’s what got us here.

Living with an open heart also means you have to be OK with being vulnerable — with feeling the hurt of rejection or taking a risk that fails. During these days of quarantine, it doesn’t feel like I can take one more thing, my heart is closed up for the moment trying to make it through just one more day. It’s busy trying to maintain the level of acceptance and kindness I have right now and trying not to rock the boat. I mean I have come so far - the first 2 weeks I cried every day - s$#t was a mess. Now I have reached a bit more of a plateau-like place (?) and damn if I’m not going to set up camp and live here till this whole thing is over.

So is my heart open? Not really. Am I willing to be vulnerable to grow as a person right now? Not really. Am I discovering my inner desires and wants? Not really. Maybe it’s an excuse to keep me safe, maybe this is just April for me. I’ll wait till May to see.

I would love to hear from you - will you send me an email?

I want to know how your journey is going.

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