Sometimes, you just want to scream. But you’re an adult. You’re a parent. You can’t. You shouldn’t. But you want to, you need to. You’re tired, you’re stretched too thin, you’re anxious and you don’t know where the bottom is. And knowing that you are the one in charge doesn’t make you feel powerful, it scares you. Because you haven’t a clue what’s going on, let alone how to take care of everything.
Now. That’s how you feel now. Or sometimes. Or Tuesday when the garbage disposal breaks and you’ve just found out your firm’s downsizing and you’re coming down with that flu even though you got the flu shot and you’re…stretched too thin. So when your 8 year old calls you for the third time in 5 minutes, you scream at him. And when the twins won’t stop quarreling you scream at them.
Or: You step into a hot shower, and scream. You turn up the Motown and dance around the apartment, and scream. You mimic Liza as Sally Bowles in Cabaret, wait for the train to pass, and scream. You turn into a monster, run into your kid’s room, and scream.
Because every once in a while, it helps to let it out full blast. Just for a few minutes. So scream, and breathe, and let it go. Just not at the kids…
Copyright © 2009 Marlin S. Potash. All rights reserved.