How to Deal with Mama Meltdowns
Helpful meditations for when you’ve had enough
This begins with a confession I tormented over telling anyone, let alone publishing. But a particular thought in Sally Clarkson’s Mom Heart Moments encouraged me so much, reminding me that mothers can come together to strengthen each other. So here is an account of one of my greatest mama failures in the hopes that it will remind every mother reading this that you are not alone. And that behind every challenge is a lesson learned.
The reason I’ve been absent as a mama writer is that my child turned from a baby into a toddler. Suddenly, we were ushered into The Era of Playgrounds, and I found myself running after my little one helter-skelter, with no time for my phone, social media, nor much of writing.
Some of our bedtime struggles as baby neared the one and a half year mark had turned into a mess of tears and fighting, a push and pull between my desire to further our weaning journey versus my little one’s reluctance to do so. In other words, the little tyke wanted boob, and I had no desire to keep pulling my shirt up for this voracious suckler. One particular evening had my young one and I on the brink.
Days later, I pondered how my little one and I had gotten ourselves into such a situation. How did I end up feeling as if I had punished my boy by withholding the breast from him, what seemed a huge source of comfort to him? How had the whole thing gotten so emotional?
As I gave these questions some thought, I discovered that my partner and I had been experiencing parental meltdowns once a month, since we had said goodbye to a trial period of part-time child care.
I was certain that behind our disagreement was a need begging to be addressed.
I was determined to explore what that meant for me and what steps I needed to take to remain a fit mother to my busy toddler. Here are some helpful meditations I unlocked in examining my mama meltdowns.
Asking guilt to take a back seat
Guilt was a voice that wanted to deplete me of any peace I had.
It left me feeling awful for deciding to leave my son in play group for a couple of hours so that I could take a much-needed break. It pointed accusing fingers at me, telling me that I was abandoning my child. The rational part of me knew better — I was taking steps to ensure that I could come back to my child rested and ready.
Sometimes my “mama time” was getting to polish my boots in peace and quiet. Or writing an essay about mama meltdowns. Or taking a nap. Or trying on a new coat, in peace, without having to offer Coco Melon on YouTube to my impatient mini companion.
I learned to say to Guilt, “Thanks for voicing your concerns. They’ve been heard. Now you can shut up and take the back seat.”
The wonders of a good night’s rest
During our aforementioned Great Parental Meltdown, my partner and I found ourselves livid with each other for hours. This deeply affected our young son, who was in tears for most of that day. I had ignored him as a way to show my anger to my partner, and our little boy could not understand why I was giving him the cold shoulder.
Our anger cooled as the day stretched on, turning into a frosty silence. It was sometime later that day that my partner said, “If you are physically spent from lack of sleep, then go to bed.”
That was when it struck me that we had all woken up at 5:30 that morning. No wonder we had run out of patience and kindness for each other that day. Nothing like sleep deprivation to poison your mood.
A month after this incident, I noticed a downward spiral in my thoughts. I had begun thinking that I should be more like other mothers who were having a speedier and more successful weaning journey than we were. I caught myself and remembered my husband’s simple words about getting some sleep. I noted that I had gotten up at 6:00 o’clock in the morning with my busy little angel that day. And that was after a night of broken sleep.
I made it a point then and there to go to bed when my little one did. Everything looked better the next day, seen through the filter of rested eyes.
Finding your joy
Every woman knows where her own unique sense of joy lies, waiting to be tapped. Retail therapy can often be enough for me. Other times, a swim alone while my husband cared for our son felt amazing.
Certain Saturday mornings meant that I could do laps and let my mind wander while I sliced through water. I ended those mornings soaking into a warm wellness pool. I came away from these solitary sessions refreshed, ready again for our energetic toddler.
The Mama Motto
The secret to greeting my mama meltdowns with grace lay in words I found one Sunday, while examining the aftermath of our aforementioned Great Parental Meltdown. I was asking for help when the right language came to me, and they were these very words:
Just a little bit more. Only two more minutes.
These two sentences saved me. They stayed the onslaught of a meltdown before it could consume me. Finding them was an answer to my prayers.
From then on, every time I was about to burst, I would take a few deep breaths. And then I would say, just a little bit more. These words tricked my temper and tiredness into thinking that they could have free reign — after one more minute of calm control.
And in those brief moments, my flaring anger would pass. And I would no longer see red. My thoughts had a chance to steer themselves towards a kinder direction.
Our minds will run amok, like wild horses, if left to their own devices. I like being able to remind myself that I can to be master of my thoughts and actions. And that comforts me.
The last monthly mama meltdown I had was in June. I’ve been trying to write this article ever since. And since discovering my motherly mantra, no ravaging outburst has managed to gain control of me. No more object hurling. Just the ability to take a breath and repeat to myself, just one more minute.
Sometimes, there are mini meltdowns — small storms of emotion. Sometimes there are tears. Then I repeat my Mama Motto. And then the wave of rage is over. It is as if an opaque curtain lifts.
I can see clearly again, and in the silence of breathing in and out, the threat of the storm passes before it had time to grow into a tornado.
