I’m a therapist and I still lose my temper sometimes

There’s a particular kind of guilt that comes with this.

Not just the usual I wish I’d handled that differently, but something sharper. A quiet voice that says, you should know better than this.

I do understand the theory. I talk about regulation, nervous systems, repair. I sit with other people in these moments every week.

And still, there are days where the noise, the repetition, the constant pull on my attention… something in me tips. It’s quick. It’s physical. It doesn’t feel thoughtful or considered. It just arrives.

Afterwards is usually where it lingers. The replaying. The tightening in my chest. The urge to make sense of it, or undo it somehow.

What I’ve come to understand over time, is that knowing why something happens doesn’t make you immune to it.

Motherhood has a way of bringing you right to your edges. Less sleep, less space, more responsibility, more noise. It narrows things. Your capacity isn’t fixed. It moves depending on what’s going on around (and inside) you.

And anger, more often than not, isn’t random. It’s a signal. Usually pointing to something like overwhelm, or lack of support, or the quiet build-up of needs that haven’t had anywhere to go.

That doesn’t mean it’s comfortable to sit with. Or that it always comes out in a way you feel proud of.

But I’ve started to think less in terms of getting it right in the moment, and more about what happens after.

Coming back. Softening. Letting your child see you repair, rather than pretending nothing happened or holding onto the idea that you’ve failed.

It’s not a perfect process. It’s not something I always get right.

But it feels more honest. And, in a quieter way, more sustainable.