Sometimes the hardest part of parenting isn’t the moment. It’s managing your own overwhelm when all you want to do is escape. Last week, mine had me reaching for a glass of scotch after 450+ days sober. That’s when I knew just how overwhelmed I really was. Two of the three boys were hangry, hangry teenagers. I couldn’t breathe right. I couldn’t blink right. I couldn’t be anything… right. And yes, they are good kids having human moments.
I mean, I get hangry too and um my mood swings are fun at times. This said, I’ve parented from this philosophy for years: De-escalate, don’t elevate. Don’t elevate emotions. Don’t elevate tension. Which also means: de-escalate, don’t evaluate. Trying to assess what is actually going on, trying to figure out how to help them when they are amped up? Useless. Not gonna work. Trying to “teach” them how to do better next time when they are amped? Also not gonna work. That will definitely just escalate.
I mean, try telling me how to better handle my emotions during a sudden moment of hormonal rage. Ask me how well I will listen and take in your lesson plan. Amirite? So when they were stomping around the kitchen, nitpicking at each other, complaining about my meal (the one I was so excited to have made them) and my efforts to de-escalate were not working…
And I realized I was getting frustrated and starting to make things worse, I left the room. I needed a break. Leaving the room was easy. “I will not be treated this way.” Turn and walk away. Easy. The hard part? I still felt all the overwhelm. The sadness that we weren’t having a family dinner over a meal I thought they would love. The letdown. The clearly other emotions about other stuff I apparently wasn’t aware of.
On the way to the safety of my couch, I saw my fiancé’s glass of scotch. I guess I was bottling up more stress than I realized. I picked it up without hesitation. What’s one sip? That doesn’t destroy my 450+ days of not drinking, right? I immediately spit it out, poured the drink down the drain, and the tears fell. Dammit. Parenting is exhausting. I love my kids and still, it’s exhausting. They are human, they act human, and so I give them grace and still, it’s exhausting.
This happened last week. It had been a hard week. As I sat curled up on the couch, crying, letting all the stress out, I decided I needed to change clothes. I needed cozy. I needed to regulate myself so I could handle them better. So I could ooze out more comforting, chill vibes. Sweatshirt and sweatpants on, I returned to the kitchen.
They had fizzled out, thank goodness. One had left. The remaining one apologized, thanked me for going out of my way to make his favorite dinner and get cookies. The other one appeared shortly thereafter and said thank you for the cookies too. (Lol, not dinner. I knew it would be hit or miss with him.) Walking away was the right thing. Spitting out the scotch was the right thing. Neither was easy.
Naturally, I decided to take a picture. The one who hadn’t lost his shite with me saw the glass. “MOM! What are you doing? Put that down! You aren’t drinking.” Oh bless my heart. He was so worried I had taken a drink. That moment made spitting out the scotch, made deciding to be sober, worth it. One of the reasons I’ve chosen to be sober is to show my kids that life is okay without alcohol; that it is not needed to numb during hard times.
My son witnessed it in action. May he remember this. And may I keep remembering that I can do it because honestly? Seeing how quickly I wanted to numb when parenting hurt so badly… when I hurt so much… even after 450+ days? That’s why I personally have chosen to be sober. I know I need to be.
Sending my warmth and a little extra oomph to you all today and always,
xoxo, Sheila
🧡 The Orange Rhino
