I cried at my kid’s ENT appointment, but not for the reason you think.

Today, I had my third interview in about 3 months time.  I interviewed for 3 very different positions, but all higher than what I currently do now.  I have been told by many colleagues and friends that I am qualified for each of these, so I used that as my motivation to attempt each of them.  My first interview, three months ago, was literally on the day I returned from maternity leave.  Did not go well, but I didn’t think it was terrible.  My second interview, I felt prepared, ready to go and answered all of the questions spot on.  I left there feeling like I left it all on the table, not leaving anything to chance.  I had high hopes I’d at least make it to the second round.  Nope.  For my interview today, I felt okay, but leery.  My confidence was shot.  I thought I was ready, but with some of the same people in there as my second interview, I think I forgot to mention things again.  I felt redundant in my answers, and halfway through, I looked around and saw a whole bunch of glazed looks.  And then I lost it.  My mojo was completely gone.   When I left there, I wanted to dissolve into a puddle.

But no.  I had been an idiot and planned it around my kid’s ENT appointment, because those are so tough to get.  I cried on the way over, and tried to pull myself together long enough to make it through.  But for whatever reason, whenever I see my husband, I get emotional about all of it all over again.  (We had met there at the appointment so that he could leave from there to get to work and I could take over with the kids.)  I start to sob all over again, right in the middle of the waiting room.  As I go over to get a tissue from the check-in desk, the receptionist says, “Oh my goodness, are you okay? Do you need to come back here for a minute?” as she gestured to the empty room behind her.  I shake my head, and thank her, but no, I’ll be alright.  (Looking back now, I wonder if she thought that my husband and I were in a fight or I felt threatened or something, and I’m hoping that she realized it was something else entirely.)

And that’s how it is when you are a parent, mom, caregiver.  You can lose your shit but no matter what, your kids depend on you so you can’t lose it forever.   They look to you for guidance, love and attention, and you have to try to pull yourself together so that you can provide all of that.  I know it’s okay to show emotion, and given that this is time #3 that I have been through this in the last three months, I have explained to my older two that “mommy is sad because of how something went” and went on to ensure them that “it’s okay to be sad”.  Which is true.  But how long is it okay to do so?  How long can you cry without your kids wondering if there really is something more wrong with mommy and should I be scared?

So, that in mind, I pulled my shit back together.  Because I am a parent.  I have to keep on going.  I have to show my kids that I can be resilient when it comes to things that knock me down.  I can learn from my mistakes, and pull myself back up.  I stopped my tears, dried them up (even though I am sure I had mascara running down my face) and went about the day.  I am enjoying a nice glass of wine now, and will probably lose my shit again, but I’m hoping I can wake up with the promise of a new day like my 6 month old does.  Gotta keep on keepin’ on.

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