It happens every Monday afternoon. In the school car park with an audience of many, I turn into a version of myself that I would rather not see. Somehow, inevitably we arrive at this place without even trying.
Let me paint the scene.
We make it to Kinder pick up (late usually by the time I convince Ivy to get out of the car and make the long walk from the car park), leave loaded with Hudson’s many construction projects and head to the sand pit. ‘Only five minutes!’ I announce firmly and settle back to watch (or more likely scroll through my phone), poised ready to wrap it up. The time flies by and I begin the process of shaking out half a bucket of sand from its hiding places on my children. I always feel like I leave enough time, but there is something inherently stressful, I find, about that walk back to the car. We pass the pick up line where cars queue from half an hour before the bell in order to reserve a space and I see exactly where I need to be. I just need to move from one side of the car park to the queue (where Eli knows to wait).
It seems simple.
It never is.
Ivy chooses that exact moment to examine every blade of grass along the footpath. Hudson charges forth to the car, hurtling up the hill and bumbling towards the crossing. I hover in between, pushing the stroller and fiercely wishing I could separate myself into three beings. ‘Wait, Hudson!’ I yell. ‘Hurry up, Ivy!’ Neither listen, and I move forward then change my mind, wait, foot tapping increasingly with more tension as the little figure with pigtails seems to move in slow motion. Cars glide effortlessly into the pick up line and I see my place disappearing.
I’m in the carpark, twenty meters away from my car and I’m going to miss the queue.
It always ends the same way. I finally give up, stride grumpily back to Ivy and put her now writhing body on my hip. I huff my way to the car, clumsily trying to manage pushing the stroller and holding a frustrated pre-schooler in my arms. One time we played this scene out in the midst of a downpour. Another time Ivy skinned her knees when she finally decided to pick up the pace. It wasn’t pretty.
By the time I load everyone into the car we are all frustrated, hot and stressed. I cringe at the thought of having been ‘that mum’ yet again, and we finally edge out from one side of the car park to the other.
Why do I do this to myself, you might wonder? Well, although it might seem unlikely, this scenario actually isn’t the worst that could play out. The few times I have tried to wrangle ALL of the kids in the midst of the now crowded throng of children and parents, clumsily navigating the pram, rolling over hapless feet and calling out to children now swallowed up by the mass in front and behind me, the stress levels reach an all time high. Then there was the time when I sideswiped a car in the car park while trying to get out of that space. Needless to say, the pick up line is our best option.
Triggers.
We all have them.
They are those moments when you feel your blood pressure rising, your breath growing shallow, fists balling, jaw clenching. You may not even realise until it is too late and you have launched forth into a tirade or screamed at your unsuspecting child, but the signs were there all along.
I used to punish myself mercilessly for these lapses in judgement. Horrified by the venom that could come out of me. The shame spiral was brutal and it spilled out onto everyone around me.
It wasn’t until I stumbled upon an On Being interview with physicist Leonard Mlodinow that this began to change.
He says this:
“What we don’t realize is how much of our feelings, our actions, our beliefs, are coming from our unconscious mind. And I think that when we raise our consciousness about our unconscious, you’re knowing yourself better. And to know yourself better, I think, is a good thing. You understand how you’re going to react, and you understand why you did things, and you just have more understanding for yourself. So it not only helps you make, in a way, better decisions economically, but it helps you make better decisions, I think, spiritually because you have, in a way, more tolerance for yourself as well as more understanding.”
If you cracked it, maybe it will comfort you to learn that you were always going to do that and you will continue to do that until you get curious about the forces behind your decisions. What triggered you? What is going on underneath the surface that made that particular cluster of events undo you?
Clearly, knowing this science hasn’t stopped me from losing it. I’m human. But, I’ve started writing down my triggers, understanding why the car park has the power to stir my emotions and stress levels so. It will be a process and Monday afternoon ‘shows’ might continue to happen for a while. But for now, knowing that I’m facing those demons and figuring out why they are there, is helping ease the pain a little.
What are your triggers? Is there a place or situation that gets you every time? Maybe it is the supermarket, the shopping center, crazy hour when everyone needs something at the same time. And let me know if you have any tips about making the school car park an easier place! I clearly need it!
