Five seconds was already too late

"Stop."

"Stop it!"

"MOM! He won't stop!"

It had been going on since we got home from school. One of my twins following his brother around, poking, grabbing, not leaving him alone. I asked him to stop… then told him… then told him again.

Right before dinner, I yelled. The kind you still feel in your throat five minutes later.

"Can't you stop? He's telling you to stop! You know you have to listen. What's WRONG with you?"

He did need to stop. Just not like that.

I went upstairs and lay on the bed, tears in my eyes. Frustration, anger and the guilt already waiting for me there.

He's telling you to stop.

My body had been saying it for weeks. I was exhausted. My business was going through a hard time. I was resentful about how much I was carrying at home and I couldn't remember the last thing I'd done just for me. Usually I can walk them through a fight like that one. That week, I was getting to the edge faster every day.

It took me the length of dinner and bath to feel like I could face him again. Then I went back to him.

"I'm sorry for how I reacted. A lot of that had more to do with me than with you."

I held him until he fell asleep.

I grew up on rules and hard work. Tired was something you pushed through. Nice to know it’s there but hardly a reason to stop.

And like the perfectionist I was (hmmm... am), I made sure I got very good at that.

My body said stop. I said keep going.

Again and again.

Until eventually, the stop came out sideways.

We often think "catch it sooner" means noticing the heat five seconds before we yell.

Sometimes sooner is five seconds.

Sometimes sooner is Tuesday.

By the time I yelled, there wasn't much left between annoyed and I've had enough.

The thing I needed to catch was how long I'd been expecting myself to keep going like nothing was wrong.

Think about the last time it took much less than usual for you to lose it.

Now go back a little further. Write:

"Before I got to the edge, I'd been pushing through ______."

Mine was weeks of exhaustion. I hadn't even asked myself if I was okay to keep going. Of course I was going to keep going. That's what I did.

Then:

"This week, listening to that could look like ______."

For me, it was time to not be anything to anyone, for a moment.

You don't have to wait until your body says it through a yell.