Hiding

I hide from my children sometimes.

Not because I don’t love them, but because I love them so much that I know when they deserve me to take a moment.

They deserve me to take a moment when I’m tapped out, when I feel like I’m going to spill out everywhere, when the overwhelming feeling of what I still have to finish of everything I’ve only just been able to start rushes over me.

And those moments are needed a lot normally. But at the moment they are needed a little more.

Because there’s a lot going on.

For me, for them, for all of us.

And it can be a lot to manage when you are responsible for managing responsibly.

So when I feel a moment coming over me, I try my best to take that moment.

If I can find it.

If they allow me to have it.

If they don’t notice I’m taking it.

I take it in the toilet, my bedroom, the pantry.

Wherever I can.

Whenever I can.

For however long I can.

As long as I can still hear them and know they’re safe.

And I don’t do anything but hold some space for myself for a moment.

To feel how I’ve needed to for the last however many hours since I was first needed throughout the day or night.

Or to spill out what I’ve needed to over the surrounding space, not over them.

Or to scroll my phone and see who else may be hiding too.

Sometimes all at once.

And there I stay.

Half listening to them. Half listening to me. Fully taking a time out.

Until they find me, call out my name, or cry for me.

Sometimes all at once.

But it’s the best thing I can do.

When there’s nothing else that’s possible.

When it’s just me and them.

When it’s not close to 5pm yet.

And they deserve the best.

So yeah,

I hide sometimes.

And I’m not ashamed to say that.

Because I’m always better for it.

And they’re always better for it too.