Diagnosed with Alphabet Soup

Gloria Lucas
The Motherload
Published in
6 min readMar 4, 2024

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Photo by Kristine javashvili

You’re touched out, they said.

Every mother feels this way sometimes, they promised.

I nodded even as I felt like I was missing something. Yes, too much touch bothers me. Layers of noise drive me crazy. Running errands with kids feels overwhelming. These are sentiments I’ve heard a thousand times. Somehow, I felt like it bothered me more. I couldn’t verbalize the extra, the difference, that brought me to a place where I felt irritable sooner than I cared to admit. I felt overwhelmed faster than I thought should be possible.

Were my standards too high? What was I missing?

I was in a bounce house with my children. Winter had settled in and it was far too cold to run around outside. Luckily, I had found an indoor play area that would hopefully mean fun for my little boys and an easier bedtime.

Fluorescent light bathed the inflatables and seating areas within the large warehouse. Foam squares in the shape of puzzle pieces lined the play area, but otherwise the rest was concrete. The shrieky laughter of children and low drone of adult chatter reverberated around me. I had come alone, so I didn’t take a seat at one of picnic tables littering the middle of the open floor. Instead, I followed my children around, periodically scrolling through my phone.

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Gloria Lucas
The Motherload

I write about trauma and mental health. Sometimes parenting. Also, short stories. Daydreamer. Always behind on laundry. She/her