As I sank onto my bed, I felt the familiar feelings of regret at my outburst and despair that I’d ever be able to change. All the books and articles I read, the classes I took, the advice I got, the tefillos I uttered — they gave me a lot of tools, but most of the time I got angry before I could even access them. I had made a little progress here and there, but I was still so far from where I wanted to be, from where my family needed me to be.

Then COVID-19 hit.

I reached a breaking point on Chol Hamoed Pesach. I was hiding from my family in the bathroom, thinking about how I was so overloaded and overwhelmed, with all my kids home and no break, ever. I thought I’d been stretched thin before, but now I was barely functional. I couldn’t go on like this, it wasn’t an option. I needed to pull it together. But how?

Out of all the many anger-management tools at my disposal, I decided that the one thing I should focus on was to monitor my emotional state. Maybe if I paid enough attention to my mood I could catch myself before I exploded. It seemed like a long shot — I’d never been able to catch myself early enough before — but I had nothing to lose.

The next day, sometime in the afternoon, I was standing in my kitchen. It was dirty. Everyone was hungry, but no one wanted to eat anything I suggested. Someone wanted a cup of water but couldn’t be bothered getting it herself. My husband was also in the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator. I felt that familiar feeling of overwhelm start to creep up.

“I’m feeling really frustrated right now, and I need to take a walk,” I announced.

I put on my coat and scarf and hurried out of the house. As I walked very briskly down the street, I was forced out of my gloom by the thought that every home I passed was certainly dealing with their own unique situations.

I thought about how my stressors, while stressful for me, weren’t really so big, objectively. I just wasn’t managing them well. Most encouragingly, I had, for the first time, successfully avoided an explosion. It wasn’t an impossible goal. I could do this.

These days, I’m doing much better. It’s not like I’ve totally fixed this middah, and now I’m calm all the time. I wish. But the hope I felt on the day I took that walk enabled me to establish better coping mechanisms.

When I feel myself getting worked up, I say out loud, “I’m starting to get really frustrated.” I go outside and breathe some fresh air. I ask myself, “Is this really a big deal, or does it just feel like that right now?” I remind myself that Hashem is in control, not me.

And I try to get more sleep and take the time to eat reasonably well so my physical needs are balanced. If I do lose my cool, I don’t feel despair anymore, and that helps me calm down faster. All those years of hishtadlus have finally paid off.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 712)