28 November 2016

Quiet and (a little bit of) Peace

Her story went something like this: She was taking on too much, her schedule was jam-packed, and so God let her get sick, and so she was made to give up all her tasks and spend the week in bed.

I'd never thought of it that way before. And it fits in well with my God-designed-science philosophy: when we take on too much and become stressed, our immune systems are weaker, and we are thus more likely to be laid flat by a few germs. And God designed that too, so whether He smitted her with a green ooze while she slept or via ragged good intestinal bacteria, she was down for the count, with nothing left to do but rest and ponder God.

And so God (directly or indirectly) smitted me with inflammed vocal cords that have reduced my voice to a pathetic whisper and suddenly, not of my on volition, I am the type of mother who does not yell at her children.

And while the cat frolics on the counter and the dog pretends she doesn't know what my firmly pointing finger could possibly mean, I have learned that I don't always need to yell at my children, or even speak firmly to them, in order to get them to listen to me. A whisper from across the table yields the same results as a loud, angry command. "Use your spoon." "Don't feed Roxy Cheerios." "Stop taking Theodore's cup away from him." Still, no one used their spoon, Roxy binged on Cheerios, and Theodore screamed his brains out at Eleanor's retreating fingers clutching his big boy cup in a greedy death-grip.

I kid.

Sort of, but you get where I'm going with this.

I got Eleanor to stopped throwing the counting jungle animals and pick them all up without yelling. I stopped Theodore from tumbling down the stairs with a terrified whisper just as effectively as I did with a terrified shout. I couldn't scream angrily when Abigail locked me out of the house when I let Roxy out. My life is bumbling along as exactly the same speed whether I yell or whisper. And so I wish to stop yelling. Yelling makes me angry and bitter and petty. I don't like how I feel at the end of the day when I yelled all through it. And while I always meant to try to stop, being absolutely forced to quiet the volume has been quite an eye-opener.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hi! Just wanted to say that while I don't often comment, I always read your posts and, as a fellow PPD mom, REALLY appreciate them. :) I hope your anti-depressant weaning is going okay--I'm in that process now myself--and that you're starting to feel better! Thank you for writing!

K.