Moments
Standing in my outdated kitchen, wrapped tightly in the arms of my husband I wept uncontrollably. Constantly struggling to be a full time mother, wife, daughter, granddaughter, daughter in-law, employee and student had finally caught up to me. As I look back at my week four reflection I am not quite sure what happened in that moment, but I understand I had been holding in too much and my strength finally broke.
See, I had finally decided to stop dragging my feet and enroll into college. My schedule was already tight and I was stretched way too thin. However, I was done making excuses for why I could not finish my degree. During the first few weeks of my English Composition class I started to realize that I was struggling emotionally with the additional stress, but forced myself to make it invisible to those around me.
Some seem to think that salty, streaming tears are the best way to release emotion from the body. However, I see them as a sign of weakness. The salt burns and blurs my vision, so since I was a child I knew how to bottle my feelings deep inside of my soul. This night the bottle busted and wet glass ran down my tear stained cheeks.
My daughter and I arrived to the house earlier than my son and husband. The ten minute drive from daycare to home was painful. Grace had not napped that day and was over tired. As we made our way through neighborhood roads in Pennsylvania, used for cutting through to Delaware, she kicked my seat, screamed, cried and drove me crazy in the process. I tried to use motherly, soothing techniques, but after working 10 hours on 4 hours sleep it can be assumed that I failed miserably at being calm.
As we pulled into our driveway, puddles from the rain were formed in the low spots. I jumped out of my truck and opened the back door. I quickly grabbed her out of her five point harness car seat, and ran her into the house. Peeling off the wet layers that soaked through to my skin, she started screaming and kicking again. Taking off her coat and feeling defeated, I tucked her in on the couch at 5:30 pm with the tablet to babysit so I could start brainstorming some of my assignments for class.
I was working on my This I Believe assignment and struggling more than normal as my original idea for the blog post was irrelevant after the assignment was explained. I had around a page of ideas, and another two pages of clusters going when my husband and son walked through the front door. Anthony came through the door excited as it was Friday and he had no homework. His first words to me were “Mommy it’s beautiful outside, can we play baseball?” I was exhausted and mentally drained, but said yes anyway. Anthony loves ball and plans to make it a career. As an eight year old he already understands how much practice is needed to dedicate himself to a career in the MLB.
My eyes focused beyond my son to my husband who was struggling to close the front door. I noticed that he had a pizza box and large brown bag in his hands. Take-out night and it was perfect timing. When I work ten hour shifts, it is hard to get a break sufficient enough to feed my face so the sight of the pizza reminded me I had eaten nothing since 10:00am. I jumped from my black leather recliner, placing my notebook securely on the oak side table, went to the kitchen to get paper plates and utensils.
My husband entered the kitchen and placed the take out on the gas range stove, most likely an early 80’s model. I placed the disposable dishware on top of the box. In our normal routine we kissed and hugged to say hello. Our lips touching did not drown me in my weakness, but the bear like hug from my six-foot two inches, 225lb man crippled my emotions. As he wrapped me in his huge arms like a soldier holding his wife for the first time in months I began to melt. His touch did something inside of me and I broke into little pieces, scattered on the floor. Weeping in such a way I could not stop nor control my body.
Even without the physical pain, a flood of emotions came running down my face with hurt. The realization of not being able to be everything to everyone hurt the deepest part of my core. This man, who was just embracing his wife for a normal hug, was now holding me up as my knees buckled and I was falling to the floor. I shook all over my body like a leaf freeing itself from the autumn tree. After fifteen minutes, which is a long time to cry with no control, he suggested we visit a friend’s property and get out of the house. After dinner, we packed up both kids, dog, and did just that.
The property itself is a sight to behold. The house sits back in a no way out road. As you enter you see two houses on the side, each with dogs barking. We pulled over a little bridge and looking over the acres of land, with the fall sun setting over the big oak trees I could feel myself letting go a little. Almost like a physical feeling of the stress coming out of the top of my body and my shoulders felt lighter. We played until well after dark and those moments with my family saved me from a mental breakdown.
The moments of being held close by the one I love in my time of need, playing with my children in scenery that proves god exists, and the moment of acceptance that it is ok to not be the best at everything. These moments I appreciate as I reflect back on them. Heading towards a nervous breakdown, these special moments with loved ones kept me level, and assured me I am still a good a good mother, great wife, and a wonderful person in times I had a shadow of doubt.
Standing in my outdated kitchen, wrapped tightly in the arms of my husband I wept uncontrollably. Constantly struggling to be a full time mother, wife, daughter, granddaughter, daughter in-law, employee and student had finally caught up to me. As I look back at my week four reflection I am not quite sure what happened in that moment, but I understand I had been holding in too much and my strength finally broke.
See, I had finally decided to stop dragging my feet and enroll into college. My schedule was already tight and I was stretched way too thin. However, I was done making excuses for why I could not finish my degree. During the first few weeks of my English Composition class I started to realize that I was struggling emotionally with the additional stress, but forced myself to make it invisible to those around me.
Some seem to think that salty, streaming tears are the best way to release emotion from the body. However, I see them as a sign of weakness. The salt burns and blurs my vision, so since I was a child I knew how to bottle my feelings deep inside of my soul. This night the bottle busted and wet glass ran down my tear stained cheeks.
My daughter and I arrived to the house earlier than my son and husband. The ten minute drive from daycare to home was painful. Grace had not napped that day and was over tired. As we made our way through neighborhood roads in Pennsylvania, used for cutting through to Delaware, she kicked my seat, screamed, cried and drove me crazy in the process. I tried to use motherly, soothing techniques, but after working 10 hours on 4 hours sleep it can be assumed that I failed miserably at being calm.
As we pulled into our driveway, puddles from the rain were formed in the low spots. I jumped out of my truck and opened the back door. I quickly grabbed her out of her five point harness car seat, and ran her into the house. Peeling off the wet layers that soaked through to my skin, she started screaming and kicking again. Taking off her coat and feeling defeated, I tucked her in on the couch at 5:30 pm with the tablet to babysit so I could start brainstorming some of my assignments for class.
I was working on my This I Believe assignment and struggling more than normal as my original idea for the blog post was irrelevant after the assignment was explained. I had around a page of ideas, and another two pages of clusters going when my husband and son walked through the front door. Anthony came through the door excited as it was Friday and he had no homework. His first words to me were “Mommy it’s beautiful outside, can we play baseball?” I was exhausted and mentally drained, but said yes anyway. Anthony loves ball and plans to make it a career. As an eight year old he already understands how much practice is needed to dedicate himself to a career in the MLB.
My eyes focused beyond my son to my husband who was struggling to close the front door. I noticed that he had a pizza box and large brown bag in his hands. Take-out night and it was perfect timing. When I work ten hour shifts, it is hard to get a break sufficient enough to feed my face so the sight of the pizza reminded me I had eaten nothing since 10:00am. I jumped from my black leather recliner, placing my notebook securely on the oak side table, went to the kitchen to get paper plates and utensils.
My husband entered the kitchen and placed the take out on the gas range stove, most likely an early 80’s model. I placed the disposable dishware on top of the box. In our normal routine we kissed and hugged to say hello. Our lips touching did not drown me in my weakness, but the bear like hug from my six-foot two inches, 225lb man crippled my emotions. As he wrapped me in his huge arms like a soldier holding his wife for the first time in months I began to melt. His touch did something inside of me and I broke into little pieces, scattered on the floor. Weeping in such a way I could not stop nor control my body.
Even without the physical pain, a flood of emotions came running down my face with hurt. The realization of not being able to be everything to everyone hurt the deepest part of my core. This man, who was just embracing his wife for a normal hug, was now holding me up as my knees buckled and I was falling to the floor. I shook all over my body like a leaf freeing itself from the autumn tree. After fifteen minutes, which is a long time to cry with no control, he suggested we visit a friend’s property and get out of the house. After dinner, we packed up both kids, dog, and did just that.
The property itself is a sight to behold. The house sits back in a no way out road. As you enter you see two houses on the side, each with dogs barking. We pulled over a little bridge and looking over the acres of land, with the fall sun setting over the big oak trees I could feel myself letting go a little. Almost like a physical feeling of the stress coming out of the top of my body and my shoulders felt lighter. We played until well after dark and those moments with my family saved me from a mental breakdown.
The moments of being held close by the one I love in my time of need, playing with my children in scenery that proves god exists, and the moment of acceptance that it is ok to not be the best at everything. These moments I appreciate as I reflect back on them. Heading towards a nervous breakdown, these special moments with loved ones kept me level, and assured me I am still a good a good mother, great wife, and a wonderful person in times I had a shadow of doubt.