Driving on Ice

So you find yourself driving along, the weather seems to keep getting worse and as you go under an overpass you hit a patch of ice.

Life can be much like this. Let's say you are at day 5 of getting over a cold, and you've powered through it. It's morning, the kids are up extra early and you are exhausted and your bed is far too welcoming. Pulling yourself out anyway and into the cold and dreary day, you start to run through the motions of your morning: change diapers, use bathroom, get dressed, toss hair up out of your face. Upon entering the living room you cringe at just how disastrous it has become in the last few days, how many things you have not been able to keep up with while being sick. The thought passes like a dagger into your mind, "You will never be able to catch up." In fact, you still have piles of things that have made it to that list of never, and now that line has shifted even further away. It has made it to the land of "never ever" and yet it is still there, in your mind, taunting you. Threatening like a storm on the horizon. The chaos of the home shows in everything from the scattering of toys, food, clothes to the actions and reactions of it's inhabitants. The kids are fighting, and tripping over clothes and things on your way to rescue the toddler is infuriating. You try in vain to clean it, to retain some semblance of order and it just spirals downward.

And so you are driving through a storm. In your mind, you repeat your mantras, you steel your patience and you falter. You yell at one of the kids, your anger explodes, you hit black ice. Do you hit the brakes? Do you stay here, more anger bubbling? You head into a spiral, spin out of control, angry at yourself for saying something to your darling children that you never thought you'd say. You enter into the loathesome mother area. You are a failure. You have said something, done something, that has written on the slate of who your child is. You have changed them forever, you have done damage that can never be fully erased. And so you sit, you dwell, you feel failure grabbing you and smothering you with its viscous guilt. A tiny part of you knows this territory, it struggles to break free. Find something positive! And so you try. You try to turn on music to change the mood, you try to change the scenery, you try to change your attitude. And yet....it is lurking. And one more thing topples into the scene and it resets you back onto the spiral. You call out for help.

This is when you realize that no one can help you. All the suggestions, all the shots at humor...they all fall like patronizing thorns. No one else understands. No one else can fix this. The spiral has you convinced of your failure. Your home is a mess, your children are unhappy, it is your fault. If you could just, if you could JUST. But you cannot. Because you are you, and there is no hope.

But there is hope. You do not see it when you are in it. When you are sliding on ice, you do not stop and think about all the things you SHOULD be doing, you just do what you are doing. We all know not to slam on the brakes when you hit an icy patch and yet some do it anyway. I think with practice this would be less likely. They can pop up without notice, or they can have little warnings along the way. But when it hits you can feel helpless.

Or

You can let it ride. It doesn't feel like a choice. It is automatic. Just know that it will ride out, whether you hit the brakes or not. You will eventually be free of the ice. Hitting the brakes means there will be more damage. But you will never be stuck on ice forever.