It had been a long time coming – those kinds of things had happened before – but in the days afterwards I finally realized, with abject shame, that something had to change.
The lightbulb moment came when I found myself raging at my laid-back partner after he accidentally broke a plastic ice tray worth all of one dollar. I’d feel it coming and then be swept up in its wake. I’d get angry about things that didn’t matter, things that were so small in the grand scheme of things as to be completely meaningless. The pandemic was receding into the background, the baby was becoming an easy child, and I was no longer traveling to war zones as part of my work.
In January of this year, those stressors were largely gone. The fatigue and stress revealed itself as – that’s right – anger. And then, just before the world went into lockdown, I had a baby.
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