Life in Crisis Mode
Surviving hard times in one piece

It happens. Life rolls along according to routine, and suddenly, a bomb drops out of thin air sending the entire household scrambling to recover from catastrophe.

I recall the morning my mother showed up at my door. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, and the kids were still sleeping. Such an early visit from her could only mean one thing — something was very wrong.

“Your dad passed away three hours ago,” she whispered.

All at once, life violently shifted. The last thing I was worried about was getting the kids ready for school.

Then there was the day my husband, Mark, came home early from work. I noted the withered expression in his eyes, and I braced myself for bad news.

“I’ve been laid off,” he said.

The reality of our circumstance hit like a ton of bricks. We’d only been in our new house — with our new mortgage — for a few months. Now we were facing the possibility of losing our home. Once again, family normalcy cracked wide open, and tasks like dishes and laundry seemed utterly insignificant.

For me, managing a family of seven is challenging on any given day. When disaster strikes, it’s all too easy for me to succumb to the stresses — both internal and external — and the house is in constant danger of falling apart.

In the early years, when I was much younger and less experienced, I did collapse under the pressure. After my father died, there were many days when the chores were neglected, when the best meals I could offer were straight out of a can. It hurt to breathe, much less to answer the telephone or intervene in sibling spats. Looking back on that era, I mostly remember languishing in bed, trying to block out the world.

Somehow, we survived. The kids don’t remember how messy the house was or how bland their dinners were. They remember my sadness, and they’re forgiving.

In the not-too-distant past, I experienced a crisis of a different sort. Though no one in the family had died, and Mark’s standing in his company was solid and assured, I felt as if the world were ending. I couldn’t do anything right, I couldn’t keep up with life. I felt like a complete failure, and I didn’t know why.

I cried at the drop of a hat. Beautiful, sunny days made me sad because I felt as if the sun were shining for everyone but me. When I began to preoccupy myself with thoughts the family might be better off without me, I realized I had a very real problem, and I needed help.

That week, I was diagnosed with depression. My inability to cope with stress was not because I was failing as a mother but because my brain was simply not working as it should.

Since then, I’ve had a lot of time to evaluate “the big picture,” to look at crises objectively as they occur. The pain of stress is unavoidable, but instead of digging myself deeper into a pit of self-pity and self-criticism, I’ve learned to switch into “crisis mode” to keep myself and my family above water.

When hard times come, the first thing I’ve learned to do is simplify. I used to fret about canceling appointments or going back on plans I’d made for the family, but cutting back is essential to dealing with stress. Appointments can be rescheduled. Commitments, no matter how important they may seem, are not as important as the family.

The next thing I’ve learned to do is tell the family exactly what I’m going through. “Kids, we’re having a tough time at the moment. I’ve got to work much harder to take care of all of you, so I’d appreciate your help. I’m not going to be able to do everything on my own, so if you can pitch in, that will make things much easier for everyone. We may not be able to enjoy home-cooked meals for a while, and I won’t have the energy to take you to all the events we planned, but if we’re patient, we can get through this, and life will return to normal soon.”

At times, guilt does threaten to break in and carry me down to its depths. When the pain becomes too great to manage, I let even the most basic tasks go. But I’ve come to realize it’s better to allow myself a little time to collapse in order to find renewal.

Crisis is not the end of the world, no matter how much it feels that way at the time. I know my nature and how fiercely I love my family. I know I’ll reemerge as strong as I was before. Life will return to peacefulness; the house will be clean, and the table will once again see meat and vegetables lovingly prepared. And the sun will once again shine for me, too.

In the end, the kids won’t remember the torment of family crisis as I experienced it, but they will remember how we came out on the other side in one piece — together.

L. ‘Ailina Laranang lives in Lafayette with her husband and five homeschooled children. Contact ‘Ailina at alaranang@gmail.com.

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Claudia B. Laws
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