In 2021, I Will Evict the Mental Trespassers
A response to the Family Matters Writing Prompt
2020 was full of a lot of tantrums… grown-up tantrums. By me.
When my teenagers were toddlers, I could predict a tantrum a mile away. There was always a predictable precedent; there was a confluence of factors that combined to create the perfect conditions for a storm. Much like jet streams intersect with a powerful precision to create wind and waves, 2020 combined some of my worst fears. One day, the warm jet stream could win out, and life would be smooth. The next day — or even in a matter of minutes — the arctic blast could overcome the warmth and I would lash out like an overtired baby. My adult tantrums of 2020 were less predictable than my toddlers all those years ago. The weather would shift in the house without much warning, with no time to board up the emotional windows with plywood.
When I am in a time of peace — when the fog has lifted and I can see clearly — I notice the patterns that predict my moods. It is uncomfortable to admit those precursors, and even more embarrassing to own up to how they affect the way I talk to my kids. Teenagers have the unique talent of being half-toddler and half-adult. They are savvy enough to understand that their parents are imperfect humans, but also possess enough loyalty to love them anyway. This adds a heavy layer to our interactions. I can explain to them that I lash out because I’m scared, or irrationally angry, or under a lot of pressure. I can apologize, and they can accept it. But their ages mean that they are going to remember these moments, for good and for bad, and these little moments will shape them in a much more urgent way than when they were too little to remember. Every time I yell or shut myself away in my room for a time of quiet, I wonder whether these are the things they will talk about in therapy as young adults.
2020 allowed me to perform a hard reset on my infrastructure. I started meditating more, exercising more regularly. So when the time came to set a vision for 2020, I didn’t set resolutions about working out more or drinking less. I dug deep into the things that were stealing my peace, and I didn’t like what I saw. I realized that 90% of the times I lashed out at the people I love was because I had spent way too much time listening to the voices taking up valuable mental real estate. I had mindlessly scrolled through social media and caught myself staring at a stranger’s perfect ab muscles on Instagram and felt old. I had read a vitriolic hit piece on a female politician and felt simultaneously defeated and full of rage. I had happened upon an old picture of my family, back when we were the symbol of a “perfect” nuclear family, and felt a numbing sadness and grief coupled with shame.
I let these painful feelings stake their claim on my joy and just squat there, rent-free. In turn, I had no more joy or patience to give my kids. It had all been stolen by these interlopers that I invited in.
So my parenting resolution for 2021 is to kick them all out. We can’t avoid the real world, nor should we. I can shut myself in my bedroom for a 20-minute yoga session, but I can’t shut myself away from reality and pretend that the world isn’t messy and full of people with better abs, more money, or enviable careers. The world needs us, in all of our imperfections. But if I’m too busy dealing with these mental trespassers, there will be no more time left in the day to fulfill the role I’ve been blessed with.
I resolve to be more like a highly selective bouncer at a club this year, only letting in the people who pass my stringent dress code. You’ve gotta bring your best, and you have to have a valid ID. I will only lift the velvet rope for people and things that are authentic, servant-hearted, and kind. I will model for my kids the power they have every day to decide what and who comes in and out of their lives.
It won’t be easy. There’s a sort of perverted muscle memory in torturing oneself with comparisons, envy, and self-doubt that will be hard to unlearn. If 2020 taught me anything, it’s that we are more capable of the heavy lifting than we ever thought possible. We can do hard things, not despite resistance, but because of it. Our character — and our parenting — is shaped by the fun times and the not-fun times. But until we model the courage to clear mental space, our families can not profit from that resilience and move into our purpose.
