Throughout the day, I began to feel an overwhelming urge building within me. As morning transitioned into afternoon and evening approached, the relentless demands of parenting began to erode my patience and sanity. I could sense my annoyance escalating, the frustration and resentment rising in my throat, and the urge to burst through the front door and leave it all behind swelling in my chest.
Every part of me craved space, a release from the confines of a role I had willingly embraced. I needed to breathe without someone asking me for something, to think without the constant barrage of noise. I yearned to reconnect with myself, to exist as an individual beyond the identity of “Mom.” I had reached my breaking point.
So, I informed my partner that I was stepping out, laced up my running shoes, and literally ran away from home.
I’ve never been particularly fond of exercise, especially running. The idea of it has never appealed to me, nor have I ever experienced that euphoric runner’s high that others rave about. But on that day, I ran. I ran as if my life depended on it. I ran with the urgency of prey fleeing a predator, pushing my body until my heart felt like it might burst.
I distanced myself farther and farther from home, from my caring partner, from my adorable yet demanding children, and from the life we had built together over the years. I escaped the relentless chorus of “Mommy! Mommy!” and “I’m hungry!” and the chaos of managing it all. I ran from the power struggles, tantrums, and constant noise.
With every stride, I left behind the burdens that had begun to weigh me down. I felt the tension in my shoulders — the result of endless toddler lifting and the emotional labor of guiding pre-teens — start to fade. I began to hear my own thoughts again, to rediscover the essence of who I was.
I paused to catch my breath, glancing around in an unfamiliar neighborhood, with homes similar to mine lining the street. I spotted a woman doing dishes through a kitchen window. She didn’t seem happy. Was she a mother too? What thoughts crossed her mind? Did she ever feel the need to run away?
Looking back toward home, I took a deep breath, and as I exhaled, the urgency that had driven me outside dissipated. In its place, I felt a warm pull towards my family. I began walking, my heartbeat steadying. I was okay. I felt whole. I could breathe. I was ready to return to my role as “Mom.”
I walked partway home and then sprinted the rest of the way back to my family, back to the life I cherish.
That day taught me an invaluable lesson about motherhood: it’s entirely possible to love your family deeply while simultaneously feeling the need for a break. One can feel fulfilled yet overwhelmed at the same time. It’s easy to lose sight of your own identity when you spend too much time in a singular role. It’s perfectly acceptable to step out the front door guilt-free and to discover a part of yourself you thought you’d lost, even if it means engaging in exercise you once despised.
Many mothers experience the urge to flee at times. When that feeling arises, I encourage you to act on it. Lace up your running shoes, breathe deeply, and revel in the freedom just outside your daily routine. Don’t fear that you won’t want to return; you will. Your body may come back exhausted, but your spirit will be rejuvenated.
I’ve started to make a habit of stepping out the door regularly, and it has significantly improved my overall happiness. I recommend it wholeheartedly to fellow mothers. You may find that taking a break from home is one of the best decisions you can make — for yourself and your family. And if you are interested in enhancing your family planning journey, check out this fertility booster for men that could be beneficial.
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In summary, embracing the necessity of breaks in motherhood can lead to a more balanced and fulfilled life.
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