Behind the Smile: Breaking the Taboo of Mom's Tears

Today was one of those days where I almost needed a lifeguard to save me from my own ocean of mama tears. You ever try to keep a lid on your emotions, but then one tiny thing, one little action or word, just blows the top off? Next thing you know, it's like Niagara Falls up in here!

Yesterday, my knees decided to play a prank on me, and I gracefully plummeted onto my office floor. Yep, went down like a sack of potatoes auditioning for a slapstick comedy. The real challenge was getting back up since I was solo but thank goodness for furniture! I clung to that desk for dear life to pull my currently fat ass up from the floor. Shed a few tears, mostly from the pain, then pulled myself together, called Victoria (my emergency contact and comedian), and just laughed it off. What else can you do? At this point, falling is just part of my routine, and I'm not bringing out the walker again, so it's just another chapter in my saga. The real kicker? Today I woke up with eyelids so swollen, they were practically auditioning for a role in a horror movie, and my eyes were watering like a sink on full blast, making everything blurry. Nope, those weren't tears yet, just the delightful side effect of high-dose steroids. Seeing myself on Zoom calls was enough to make anyone flee in terror. I look like a terrifying version of the Pillsbury dough girl... I'd run from myself if I could! Seeing myself, yes, visually looking at myself on a computer screen is what popped the emotional top off.

This Thanksgiving has my anxiety racing quicker than a turkey that's had a triple espresso! Holidays are like stress marathons for us moms. Regardless of whether we're facing health issues, family expectations about our children can be incredibly stressful. Managing the kids at home is one thing, but once we're out, we moms need to bring our "A" game. Am I right, or am I right? Remember your manners, say please and thank you, use your inside voice, don't spill on the furniture, cover your mouth when you cough, do you have to go potty? Just a few of the constant thoughts racing through our mama minds during the joyous holiday get togethers.

My anxiety is heightened due to the fact that my body feels like an old car engine trying to start on a cold morning, making me want to crawl into a cave and binge-watch winter away like a bear with a Netflix subscription. I don't want people to see me like this; even though I have as much control as a car sliding on an icy road, I feel embarrassed. Yes, even with family, I feel like I'm going to end up on Judge Judy, being judged for my looks, behavior, emotions, and physical abilities. Most people, unless they dive into some serious research or ask me about it, don't have a clue about Sarcoidosis, or even what it is! The fact that there's no cure, or that I have stage 4 of the rarest type in my bones... well, I could go on, but I won't bore you to tears. Why does it matter if they know or understand? I guess I feel like maybe there'd be less judgment and more understanding?! Any other mamas fear judgement based on your health, image, or change of physical needs? I know, I know who flipping cares what others think, I know the battle I am fighting and have my village. That whole "who gives a shit mentality" is way easier said the done.

The day had finally waved its white flag, and after a chat with my psychiatrist (because who doesn't need one these days?), I decided it was time to get my act together. I put on my big girl pants and planned to pack up for a few nights out east with the family. But surprise, surprise! We didn’t hit the road tonight—not because of my own craziness, but thanks to my teenager, who thought tonight was the perfect time to have a meltdown of epic proportions. Ah, family life! I guess today was just the day for a family epic meltdown.

It's totally cool to have your own mini meltdown and embrace those wild emotions. Yes, we're human—even if our kids think we're laundry-folding cyborgs. My teenager oh-so-kindly reminded me of that tonight, insert sarcasm. If I don't snag some "me time," I start feeling like a zombie—emotionless, detached, and as thrilled about life as a cat is about a bath. Life's a rollercoaster, but when you're juggling outside battles, the inner strength it takes to get through the day becomes as exhausting as a toddler on a sugar high. This battle is a real doozy, no sugarcoating here. I'm not fishing for attention or sympathy, that's not why I'm sharing. I'm here because blogging is my therapy. Words are my jam, sometimes too many words, but I'll keep flaunting my Pillsbury figure for now. What us moms need is a little understanding and self-acceptance—easier said than done, I know. But I've realized I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in my journey, and I can't change that. I can only tweak how I react to the daily circus around me. Can't change the mess, so let's embrace it...hopefully with a good laugh!