As mothers, we experience a phenomenon that triggers uncontrollable sobs in the shower and random emotional outbursts. It's the type of thing that makes us boil over, scorching everyone in our path. This feeling lingers, rumbling deep inside, always ready to tear at the seams at any given moment.
It's called "mom rage." For me, it's often the result of being an overstimulated mom - the mental file cabinet with a million tabs open but unable to close any because somehow they're all important. We see, hear, and feel everything, often carrying the emotional weight of our families and the world. We're expected to do so gracefully, even when unsupported, neglected, and overlooked.
After becoming a mother, I found myself experiencing a state of hostility almost every day. I would lash out at my husband over every little thing, and some days, I struggled to create a soft and gentle bond with my son because, at the core of motherhood, I felt undeserving, inferior, and inadequate. My rage felt insufferable, yet it seemed to be everywhere.
I didn't want to feel irritable or have a thin patience, but I found myself harboring those feelings more often than not. I thought that motherhood would always be graceful, and that I would never grow weary of endless cuddles and giggles. I thought that I would never want to spend a minute away from my child and that I would know how to handle every fuss, sleepless night, and battle.
I thought that I would always greet my husband with a huge smile every night when he came home from work, that I would always be full of vibrant energy, and that I could balance everything and somehow be the perfect mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, and employee. But I didn't expect to become more delicate, fragile, and sensitive, with my senses and emotions becoming more intensified.
As an overstimulated mom, I often find myself in an out-of-body experience. I watch this whirlwind of disarray run its course through my life, leaving me an overwrought and overwhelmed mother just trying to mend the pieces back together and put everything in its rightful place. But the truth about mom rage is that it isn't just an angry mama; it's grief, anxiety, and feeling like everyone has a piece of you. It's feeling touched out, "sounded" out and maxed out.
Mom rage cannot be suppressed; it's a desperate cry for more help and more understanding that will only grow louder until our needs are met. It wreaks havoc in the lives of mothers everywhere, and we can't ignore it any longer.
We don't want to be told that we're strong and that we've got this. We don't want to buy into the "supermom" myth anymore. We need a safe space to be weak, to fall apart, and to have a soft landing with those around us. We don't want to carry the load alone until it becomes unbearable. We want our partners, our villages, and our society to share the load with us. Is that too much to ask for?