Parent meltdowns

In April, I had a meltdown. The girls wanted to sleep at the grandparents and I reluctantly let them. I’m not sure why I was reluctant. Alas, I needed some time to myself.

Why would I categorize my emotional guard down as meltdown? Because I sobbed and sobbed without worrying about who hears me. And this apartment block is not soundproof. We hear all our neighbors.

I have said a few times, as a matter of fact, that I can’t do it anymore. But morning comes and I get up and do life all over again. I serve and repeat, and for the most part I carry on with joy. My mundane cross. Of laundry and meals, soothing and encouraging.

Conrad, at the sight of my tearful flood, realized the gravity of my exhaustion and stepped up his game. And he apologized for saying to move away from the entryway door so my sobbing wouldn’t resonate in the stairwell. I frankly didn’t care.

There is so much guilt and shame associated with reaching our limit as parents, but right then I didn’t care who hears me crying my heart out. My kids were at the farthest point in the building. I worry that most of us don’t take it seriously when a pretty strong driven mom says she’s running on fumes or she can’t do it anymore.

God gives us strength for one more day and then one more day, but something more dramatic needs to change.

I long for the unaltered joy. I’m starting to figure out where I am and a plan to regain my footing in this mess called life. My hope is due to Spring but also, as we approached the Easter celebration and I had no words to pray, all I could do is meditate on God. Just think about Him. And on Easter morning I received the sweetest gift of a sense of his love and approval and understanding. Pure grace.

As we finish with the house interior details, and the final contract at the notary, and school on its last leg, the move, the Internet hook up, the bureaucratic details and property declaration for tax purposes… the rollercoaster is not stoping but it gets into a more gentle rolling.

I think there are many exhausted moms out there. And I pray that shame or guilt will not keep you isolated or silent. Bring your heart to God and know you are not alone. I used to think that not much in this world could rock my life. But then the pandemic started and The tedious housework, the grumpy kids, the sense of futility in parenting…

As I looked at it as a way to serve God, I gained renewed hope and energy. I had a purpose. I lay my life down, in my own small quarters, and do the very beat I can. And occasionally I cry ugly tears of exhaustion, that make me feel better afterwards.