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The words “You’re different, mommy,” were uttered this morning by my older son (age 5) at the bus stop. He was right. I was different this morning. I was somehow triggered this morning and had a very angry fragment that was pushing out and being intolerant of the kids simply being kids this morning. Normally I have been in a reasonably good mood for the kids (usually because Sara does the morning stuff), have been tolerant, but the fact that my foot has been in constant pain with these weather changes, that I’m seemingly fighting off cold after cold with the kids being in school, and the fact that I had soy last night that I apparently reacted to allergically made for a shit morning.

It isn’t just that I was in a bad mood: A bad mood doesn’t appear and disappear this quickly. I felt the switch as I was getting ready. I was telling my older son to get socks for him and his brother and was putting pants on the younger one. I suddenly wanted to punch my son in the face for not doing things quickly enough, wanted to yell at him, to make him understand that I wasn’t here to tolerate such inadequate responses to my requests.

I didn’t do these things, but I was terse, was hurrying them out the door, wasn’t calm, happy, or ok with the pace they were walking to the bus stop. We got there and my older son did something he wasn’t supposed to. I told him to get back on the sidewalk and during this exchange I see him looking at me, evaluating. The angry part just wanted to lash out at him for making faces as me (as he scrunches his face when thinking like that). But he evaluated for a minute and those words came out of his mouth.

I was stunned: He knew. He knew it wasn’t me, knew that something was off. It scared the fragment back out of the front and put Sara back in control of the situation. It was the first time someone has recognized an alter state like that, and to have it be my five year old was just scary to the system. It freaked everyone out because they’re not used to being noticed and wondered just how much those little eyes are seeing in me, just how much he knows in watching me. I don’t mean that he understands alter states or the like, but the fact that he knew enough to say, “You’re different,” makes me wonder how much he is noticing. He saw the change, knew that the one who normally interacts with him wasn’t there.

The exchange knocked me back to baseline again and I’ve been fine since, being able to smile, wave bye, and see him smiling back at me before he went away on the bus. He seemed to know that his friendly mom was back before heading off to school, and that at least makes me feel better. He is too perceptive for his own good at times, but this time his awareness made me able to return back to baseline without a huge struggle to get there. I just worry now how much he will know as the years go by, how much he will see and realize, and how much I should tell him about these sides of me that he is bound to recognize as time passes.