Beach Balls and Hot Air Balloons

My kids had a few days off of school for fall break in October 2017. We decided to drive to Albuquerque, New Mexico and go the hot air balloon festival that weekend. My brother-in-law and his family showed us a great time. We got up at the crack of dawn to see hundreds of balloons launch, ate green chilies on everything, and went back to see the mezmerizing balloon glow at night. If you have never been, you should go. It’s incredible.

I was really excited for the balloon launch early in the morning. We walked onto a huge field and there were hot air balloons everywhere. We walked from balloon to balloon, watching them rise in the sky. There was so much to see, and the field was swarming with thousands of spectators. I was a little stressed trying to keep our group of 12 together.

At one point in the morning, I realized Annie wasn’t with us.

Annie.

We quickly divided up and started calling for her, scouring the field. My heart was racing and my thoughts were not helping. There were thousands of people! Annie was tiny. How would I ever see her? It was too loud. She would never hear us. I kept thinking about how little she was, how she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet and could have low blood sugar. I kept thinking that anyone could have grabbed her and run off, and I’d never see her again. As I called her name, I could hear the panic in my voice. I blamed my other kids for not staying with her. I yelled and marched around like a crazy person.

I was preoccupied with my worst-case scenario thoughts, so I don’t know who actually found her or how. I just know that we did.

I ran over and hugged Annie for a long time. My other five kids were all standing there, and despite the relief I felt, I slapped them all upside the head…one by one. I’m still embarrassed about it.

When I couldn’t find Annie, I felt terrified, angry, and full of shame. Those feelings were sudden and intense, and I resisted them all. No way was I going to waste time feeling emotions! This was an emergency! Instead, I marched around purposefully, calling Annie’s name and scanning the crowd, refusing to let my emotions exist. In theory, this seems like a good idea. I was being productive, right? The problem was, once she was reunited with us, all those ignored feelings flew up and out, much like a beach ball held under water. And similarly to how the beach ball pops up unpredictably, so did I.

Learning to process our emotions is a skill, and it can be hard. We are not taught to do this—in school or at home. On that weekend in October four years ago, I didn’t know what to do with all that anger, all my shame, and all that fear. But I do now. I practice processing emotions on a daily basis. It doesn’t come easily, but it’s a skill I want and one I’m willing to work for.

How about you?