Yesterday, my 4-year-old daughter, Ava, spent the entire day in tears. This wasn’t just a one-off; she had been sobbing for the previous two days as well. Her emotional turmoil stems from the recent transition back to school, where she struggles with sleep deprivation and the adjustment from being home with me all day to attending her pre-kindergarten classes.
For a child her age, such profound distress is entirely understandable. Imagine an adult from a modern society suddenly dropped into an isolated jungle tribe, and someone casually saying, “Good luck!” while departing in a helicopter. The shock would be overwhelming, wouldn’t it?
On an intellectual level, I comprehend Ava’s emotional state. However, understanding does not magically transform me into a serene, patient parent. When Ava declared last night that the dinner I prepared (which was quite ordinary) was “weird” and then erupted into tears, I found myself at a loss for how to respond. In the days leading up to this, she had been in tears over the fit of her shorts, a gentle touch from her brother, and my request for her to move her cup away from the edge of the table.
And then came bedtime—the finale of our chaotic days. Ava insisted that we are a co-sleeping family, despite the fact that we only co-slept briefly after her birth, during hotel stays, and while camping. My husband’s nighttime antics are enough; I certainly didn’t need a 4-year-old joining in.
For three days, I had been patient and understanding. I engaged in hugs, soothing words, explanations, distractions, singing, and snuggling—everything a mother is expected to do. I took deep breaths, trying to channel my calmness into her through my heartbeat. But by the end of that exhausting day, I finally snapped. Ava was screaming that she would never sleep in her room again. I attempted to remain calm: “It’s bedtime.” I tried empathy: “I understand; it’s been tough.” I even resorted to being assertive: “Don’t talk to me like that.” And then, in a moment of desperation, I shouted, “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!! I’M LOSING MY MIND!!! I’M DONE! I’M SO DONE! I’M OUT OF HERE!”
While my husband stayed behind to manage Ava’s cries, I stepped outside and paced around the driveway, desperate for silence. I reached a point where I felt I might either scream or throw something. So, I chose to walk away.
For a brief moment, the thought of hurling Ava’s nightstand at her dresser crossed my mind. I imagined the sound of the mirror shattering and the chaos that would ensue. I envisioned myself yelling at my innocent child, who was simply navigating a difficult transition, while I lost all sense of reason. It was a terrifying realization that I had stopped feeling sympathy and had given up on guilt.
Some may argue, “It’s fine; your husband was there. She was supervised.” But I assure you, I would have left the house regardless. And in moments of overwhelming stress, sometimes it’s necessary for a parent to take a step back. If the alternative is losing control, leaving your child alone for a few minutes can be a healthier option—one that shouldn’t lead to guilt.
These are the challenging moments of parenting. There are times when the only choice is to check out mentally.
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In summary, stepping away from my child during a meltdown was not an act of failure; rather, it was a necessary choice for both our well-being. Parents sometimes need to prioritize their own mental health to remain effective caregivers.
Keyphrase: parental mental health
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