Beach Balls
Yesterday I was watching my children tackle each other in the pool, and out of nowhere I hear a mother scream at the top of her lungs to a child who couldn’t have been more than 4. Ear piercing scream, ‘I shouldn’t have to tell you four times to get out of the pool! Next time we swim you are sitting out for 5 minutes. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!’ She grabbed another little boy’s hand who was probably 18 months old and marched them both across the concrete, pretty much dragging the youngest. I could just feel her angst. I knew her rage. It was 5pm and I’m sure she had been with these toddlers ALL day and she hit a breaking point. Toddlers alone can do that to a mom, let alone toddler BOYS. If anyone knows this angst, it’s this mama. So many feelings came flooding back to me about this time in my boys’ lives.
I took my oldest to therapy last week and the therapist asked me to stay for the first few minutes. Then he proceeded to dive in head first with him and asked about his ‘feelings’. My son responded and then he asked him, ‘when did you learn that it wasn’t okay to be out of control emotionally?’ I couldn’t choke back my tears. The feelings. They flooded my body. Because of all of my personal work I was well aware of how and when we create false beliefs as small children. I knew that I had a part in helping to create this pre-teens belief that being out of control emotionally was BAD.
You see when he was a toddler I was that mom at the pool. I was holding so many ‘beach balls’ under water and terrified that one of them would pop up and everyone would know how much I was struggling inside. So instead of being authentic, I pushed the balls down harder. I moved four times in three years and was either pregnant or nursing a newborn each time. With no family I was left to create my own family in each new city as my marriage continued to deteriorate and me feeling progressively more out of control on the inside, I tried hard to control it all on the outside.
That ‘outside’ became my kids, my ex-husband, my home, and myself. In the process, I harmed my children. I screamed when they would misbehave in public. I would feel shame in Target when they acted like toddler boys because I was so afraid that someone would think I was a bad mom. I was so afraid of what you would think period that the anxiety was almost too much to bear but I know my boys bore the brunt end of it. It was hard for me to allow them to be kids. I just needed them to behave so I could keep my image together. I found myself screaming, many times abusively so, and couldn’t find a way to manage it all and stop. The guilt and shame piled up and compounded the entire situation, and I just kept holding the balls under water, exhausted to the bone trying to hold it all together.
So, yes, I cried in that therapist’s office because I know my part was large in creating this belief in my precious boy.
You may be thinking I’m being hard on myself because all moms are under stress and we all yell. And while this is absolutely true, the real factor for me here is that because of the way I was feeling inside, I was losing control all the time on the outside. I was watching the lights go out in the eyes of my small boys. I knew on the inside that what I was doing was detrimental but I couldn’t stop. Luckily, the story does not end here. When my boys were 7, 5, and 2, I sought help. I got to a place so desperate that I was willing to ask someone to help me live a different way. From that screaming anxious and emotionally out of control place I found myself, my true self. I found meditation. I found peace. Calm. An ability to soothe the parts of myself that cared so much what you thought. I found enough confidence to figure out what kind of mama I am and deeper what kind of human I am. Through work with a life coach I was able to embrace the dark and the light of me. I slowly became a centered and confident mama. I got in touch with my intuition and use it everyday to guide me in raising my three beautiful boys. This process was long. It was gut wrenching at times. Facing myself and the damage I had done was not easy. But I knew the alternative was to continue doing it and me causing more damage to my boys and to myself.
To the mama at the pool, I see you. I feel you. I know you and I cry for you. That wasn’t a ‘I’ve had a bad day scream.’ That was the cry of a mama who is holding beach balls under the water and struggling to find a solid surface to stand on. If this is you; if you relate to this, just know that you aren’t alone. There is another way. You don’t have to suffer with the angst and anxiety all day everyday. You just need to get some help. The very first step is recognizing that you don’t want to keep doing the same thing over and over and over again. The next step is asking for help. I’m here for you. I have lots of resources that might be of benefit. Go ahead, let one of the those beach balls pop up. Feel what it feels like to finally let go and not have to try so hard to keep it all down. In the meantime, I will keep writing and hope that my words bring some relief!
Love,
