Hi, I’m Mel & I’m a Yelling Screen-o-holic

Disclaimer: This is a hard writing piece for me, but I hope it helps even one person to second guess yelling at their kids and thinking before picking up their phones.

“Shut up! Stop crying, stop yelling, and be silent!” I screamed from the front seat as I’d screeched to a stop on the side of the road. I’d had it. I couldn’t take anymore of the noise that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard any longer. My patience was worn thin. I wanted to hide. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Mommying doesn’t permit running. There is no escape, no time capsule to hop in. You are on 24/7 as a mom and there is only one of you.

I looked back and both my kids faces were covered in tears and Hope had her legs pulled up to her chin. “I’m scared of you, Mama. I’m sorry, Mama.”

I was unaffected by her words and went on.

“Good… I could pinch you as hard as I could like Grandma Jan used to. Would you like that instead?

“Noooo!” Hope shook her head back and forth quickly.

After James hit Hope, I pulled the car over for a 2nd time and threw everything in sight to the back of the car to eliminate him hitting her with anything else. Each object made a loud noise as it hit the back window. It felt good to throw things, to channel my anger.

Their faces were wet with tears and I was in a rage. I couldn’t pinpoint why I was in a rage or why I was yelling. It’s not in my character to tell my kids to shut up or to be this aggressive. Maybe it’s because I’d skipped my green tea from Starbucks & I was suffering from caffeine withdrawal, maybe I’d had it with Hope’s after-school-rages,  maybe it was because I’d been on my computer too much, watched too much Dr. Phil via T.V., or  I’d looked at Facebook & Instagram one too many times that day, but I’d had it. I was on a rampage & my kids were suffering the consequences, unfairly. I’d come to regret it big time later.

The screaming, yelling, and crying, from the back seat, only aggravated me more. I wasn’t being empathetic or caring or loving or compassionate. I was tired of the bullshit. I’d asked Hope numerous times what she needed from me and all she’d given me was sass and that sent me into a downward spiral of pissed off.

As a child, my mom wouldn’t have it. She’d turn the radio up full blast to get us to shut up and pinch us as hard as she could. Not sure how she managed to reach us. It’s as if she had the longest arms on Planet Earth. It always used to scare the shit out of me.

Was I becoming my mother?  When we’d become parents, we’d vowed not to yell, spank, or pinch our kids, but I definitely was yelling at my kids, more often lately, and threatening them. This was so out of my character. What was going on that I felt the need to take out my bullshit onto my kids?

“Mom, you are going to regret this later, you are going to apologize later, Mom.” Hope rattled off with tears still streaming down her innocent face.

She was right. I pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. I threw everything in sight on the front yard: backpacks, water bottles, trash, half eaten snacks, shoes, stinky socks, and more. I was sick of my car being trashed all the time. It was starting to look like an episode of Hoarders. I began cleaning up and my head remained down. I felt ashamed that I had taken out my rage, from the inside out, onto my kids.

Hope hugged me, but I didn’t deserve it. It made me feel worse. I’d been a bad mom. I was completely out of line and had lost my way.  How could I have taken out my own anger onto them? Why was I so irritable, so enraged, so upset, so pissed?

I read an article that said this:

“Yelling at our children consistently, creates children with lower self-esteem and depression later on.”

I put those words on a post- it note and stuck it to my oven fan. Apparently those words had flown right out the window when I was in the car with them. I must have pulled over a half a dozen times. I’d gotten out of the car to cool off and could hear them crying on the outside of the car. I felt small, but with every unkind word, Hope would become even smaller in her car seat. Her face was read and stained with tears and I’d caused it. It makes me sick to my stomach now.

I remember being a child at her age. I had a big bed with huge dark wood banisters. When we’d break a rule, my mom would get out the belt and tell us to go to our rooms. We knew what was coming. Shame would wash over me. I’d sit in my room with my legs up like Hope and cry until mom would come in with the belt and spank my butt for whatever reason.  I loved my mom, but was definitely afraid of her.

I vowed that I’d never be ‘that’ mom- the one that yelled and raged and took out my bullshit onto my kids. But, yesterday, I was ‘that’ mom. The one that flew off the handle and couldn’t quite get back on her rocker. It happens, but it can’t happen anymore. I can’t yell at my kids and take my bad mood out on them. It breaks their spirits. It takes away their joy. It makes them feel small and makes them feel responsible for my crap. They aren’t responsible for me and my feelings. That is on me. I have to get to the bottom of my anger and my rage. It is up to me and me only. Children are not responsible  for adult issues and it’s unfair to place our issues at their feet.

I know now that my mom’s spankings, pinching, yelling, and raging definitely had a negative effect on.  It contributed to me questioning  my worth. It caused me to wonder if I was enough. It caused me to think that maybe I wasn’t a good girl after all. I’ve forever looked to others for validation that I’m enough: skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough, positive enough, a good enough mom, worthy enough, and more. Ya know that impressionism that you have in middle school/ high school? Mine never ever went away. I still look outside of myself for validation. I admire those that just know they are good enough and can brush off what others say about them.

I seek Facebook to give me validation, as I often search to see how many ‘likes’ I get. You can imagine how much time I spend on social media seeking validation verifying to see if I am good enough! I can’t pass that onto my children. It’s a really hard way to live. I’m working my way through it. It’s something I have to work on daily.  I want them to love themselves and know that their worth isn’t wrapped up in what others say or don’t say about them, but rather it’s inside of them. They have to know that they are good enough and it has to come from within.

I cried hard when we got home. I hid in the bathroom and cried. I cried for how I’d made my kids feel during that 20 minute ride home from school. I cried for having made Hope  curl up in a ball and having her fear me at the time. I’m supposed to be their soft place to fall, the place she can be completely herself with.  I wasn’t that for her. I’d failed her & her brother. I’m certain I’ll fail more along the way as her mom, but I learned a lot from yesterday.

I have theory. Research states time and time again that too much screen time causes aggression and increased ADHD symptoms in children. I think  if that is true for children, it must also be true for adults. I was on my computer a lot yesterday, watching Dr. Phil, & on my phone. I’m a screenoholic. I’m an attention whore. I don’t want to be an attention whore anymore. I like attention. I really like attention. I always have and I always will. I am self-absorbed. I don’t want to be self-absorbed anymore.

I check my phone way too often. I look to see who likes my photos, who is commenting on my photos, who read my work, who commented on my work, and so on and so forth. I admire those that don’t have to seek social media for attention, they just innately know they are worthy within themselves and that truth can’t be altered by anyone else, their comments, or lack there of.  I follow exercise gurus, fitness models, and celebrities and wonder why I don’t look like them. I strive to be skinnier, clear skinned, fresh-faced, and stronger. Why can’t I just love myself and all that I am at this moment in time?

My self-esteem is lower when I spend too much time on social media and not more time on doing the very things that bring me the most joy in my life.

I compare my family to theirs. Comparison is the thief of joy and it has stolen mine dozens of times. The creation of the selfie has made me even more self-absorbed. I find that I have become braggy about my weight loss, my clothes,  my  eyebrows, and more. Who really gives a shit what my eyebrows look like or how much I weigh? Nobody cares!

I’ve spent more time on my phone than I have with my children. I am on my phone while driving, at times, while at stop lights, at school pick up, at the gym, and more. It’s as if I’m on autopilot and it is negatively affecting me, my life, and my family.

Hope has said, “GET OFF YOUR PHONE, MOM… YOU ARE ALWAYS ON YOUR PHONE, MOM.”

That right there should have stopped me in my tracks from being on my phone. When a six-year-old is yelling at you for attention, ya know  you might have a little problem. It’s become like an extra extremity. I’m on Facebook all the damn time and I don’t even know why. What am I searching for? I check how many likes I get and then determine if I’m good enough or not. I post photos constantly and choose just the right filter to make me look better, to cover my acne, and other imperfections. It’s just too much. I need to be more plugged into my life rather than plugged into my phone.

I’ve written about this before. I’ve sworn I’ll stop before. It sucks out the energy that I could be investing in painting and donating that money to hurricane relief, reorganizing my house, making essential oil sugar scrubs for charity, or finally getting my Mount Everest of a pile of laundry done. How is being on my phone changing the world and making it a better place? It’s not. It’s absolutely positively not. So… a change is a comin’. I’m going to spend my time doing the very things that bring me joy and change the world. It starts with me. When I know better, I do better.

When I was a teen, I had a pager and a car phone (for emergencies only) @ 16. I had real life conversations and meetups and the ‘selfie’ did not exist.

& then there is Messenger. If I message someone and they don’t reply… I decide that person doesn’t think I’m important enough for a response. I internalize their lack of response to mean I don’t matter. That is ridiculous. I create stories about what it ‘must’ mean. I belive my own make believe.

Nothing great has come of Facebook for me except that it helps me organize & catalog my kids growth, kept me connected with other moms thought my group just another mama next door,  and stay connected with people I don’t see in person. But otherwise, it creates havoc and over time… it makes me more aggressive, distracted, and less present.

I’m certain that I reacted the way I did, yesterday, because of all the screen time I’d had during the day. & so, I vow to keep my cell phone in my glove box while in the car to have real conversations with my kids more often. They matter. My phone doesn’t.

I spend time filming James’ gymnastics, but what would happen if I was really present with him during gymnastics? I check in at restaurants with friends, but what would happen if I put my phone away and engaged in a real eye-to-eye conversation? We’re hard-wired for connection. We’re hard-wired to communicate with others face to face, eye to eye. We need hugs. We need pats on the backs. We need to see others and we need to be seen by others.

Phone time should be deliberate. It’s true that phones are a necessity, but not to compare one to anther, not to be braggy about how much weight we’ve lost, not to show off microblading, or the latest hair tend. It’s time for me to put my phone down and pick up a paint brush, start completing laundry, make relaxing sugar scrubs to sell, volunteer more at my kids’ schools, teach Art Masterpiece, reorganize our kitchen, and start that book I’ve always wanted to write. How much time would I really have if I were to put my phone away and really be present in the full 24 hours each day of my life? Imagine the possibilities! Imagine what I could cook, what I could accomplish, the kind of conversations I could truly have if I were less plugged into my phone and more plugged in with my children?

Be present with your kids. My kids really have taught me to stop raising my voice and to look within at what I need to be happy. My kids do not deserve to be yelled at, they are innocent children. No child deserves to be yelled at. & when you receive a note like the one above, you vow to stop yelling and start plugging into what matters most.