I lost it this morning.

The weight of the past 6 months caught up with me.

Again.

My favorite time of the year — the reset provided by fall and back to school — finally made it to my house, albeit 3 weeks later than usual.

It’s my annual chance to reorganize my life, my routines, my systems, and my brain. New clothes for the boys for back to school, expanded hours for my clients, new classes for me to teach at the college level, and evenings spent on a sports field watching my boys play their favorite game usually fill my life this time of year.

Of course, none of that happened this year.

But today did mark the start of the in-person portion of the school year for my boys — the first time my oldest would step foot inside the high school as a student, not a visitor, and the same for my youngest at the middle school. It was kind of a big deal.

But, I lost it.

I slept through my first alarm and spent the rest of the morning playing catch up, racing through our morning to do list with one eye on the clock because they couldn’t be late — not on their first day.

Then the negative thoughts started.

I felt the weight and guilt of having to turn yet another handful of interested clients away because I cannot increase my hours this fall due to at-home schooling 3 days/week.

The state of disarray that is my house with backpacks, school supplies, masks, half-finished projects, dog toys, and a weird blend of clean and dirty clothes was all I could see everywhere I turned.

The bickering on social media flashed before my eyes as I absentmindedly scrolled through my feed while waiting for my tea to steep. Negativity and stress was everywhere this morning.

When I went to wake up my now middle schooler for his first day of school, I found the grumpy, moody, developmentally appropriate but patience-testing version of him before me.

I lost it.

Everything boiled over.

The doubts about whether this hybrid model is the right choice for him, whether this school was the right choice for him, whether this town was the right choice for him, it all rushed to the surface and I yelled.

I lost it.

I imposed an early bedtime, said I would take away all electronics, took away his option to walk home from school today, and I cried.

Today was our big day as a family and I lost it.

I failed to see that everything I was feeling, he probably was also feeling.

Six long months without being in school. Six long months of hearing about this virus. Six long months without the routine and structure that had filled most of his 12 years on this planet.

He doesn’t want this. He wants the world back to the way it was. He wants to play football. He wants to go to school full time with ALL of his friends. He wants to ride the bus while sharing a seat with his friend. He wants to sit across from his friends at a lunch table.

I failed to recognize all of that this morning and instead focused on how he wanted to wear ratty sweatpants with a hole in the knee to school and had a negative, grumpy attitude.

We were sure to say I love you and hug goodbye after our meltdowns but there were no cheerful first day of school photos for him.

Because I lost it.

We all have mornings like I had today — mornings where everything feels rushed and wrong and the choices you make are just the wrong ones. The guilt from those wrong choices is heavy and thick and can stick with us long after the bad moments have passed.

The truth is, no amount of “hold onto hope,” “be patient,” “give it time,” or “find the bright spot” memes or stories can actually take the stress of reality away. Sometimes life is just hard and it all catches up to you, washing over you like a gigantic rogue wave. Sometimes you just have to feel your feelings. I guess this morning was one of those times for him and for me.

So, what do you do after you lose it? What do you do when you regret the choices you have made as a parent, a partner, a friend, a worker?

Sure, I could sit in this guilt and negativity all day but that will probably only set off a whole big chain of further negativity. Today I choose to reflect on it, learn from it, take ownership for my actions, and reset.

Tomorrow is another day and I will try my best to do better, to be better.

Also, maybe I will set a back up alarm.

Sometimes the silence is so loud, it is deafening.


Sometimes in life you expect to hear from certain people, the people that are closest to you.


You assume you will hear things like “I miss you” or “I love you” or “Way to go, I’m so proud of you!”You think that surely they will call you, message you, text you, email you, post on your social media.


But, sometimes, the people closest to you are nowhere to be found.


The silence left in the wake of their absence is so loud that it rings in your ears.


The silence is all you can hear.


Their missing presence is all you can see.


But in focusing on the silence, you miss out on all the things that ARE there.


Sometimes you need to step away from the noisy silence and open your ears to what else is around you.


Maybe it’s not the people you thought it would be, but I bet you will find people there for you — reaching out to you, acknowledging you, appreciating you, needing your presence.


Turn down the volume on the people who are silent so that you can turn up the volume on the people who are present.


Most importantly, turn up the volume on your own inner cheerleader. Be the person that applauds your successes, that encourages you to keep going, that makes you feel like you are enough.
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Be the voice that drowns out the silence.