Today I Choose to be Collected: When All the Snakes in Your Head Are in Line (Until They’re Not)

I’m not one for a big temper. I manage to stay collected most of the time – maybe it’s from growing up in an erratic home where keeping your cool and walking on tiptoes was a survival skill. Part of that is frequently talking myself off a ledge when things go wrong rather than addressing them. (We might need to unpack that at another time.)

The one disadvantage of this strategy? Lingering resentment or upset remain and slowly build over time. Then when you least expect it, the slightest thing can completely send you over the edge, leaving you uncollected, in a spectacular way.

In our house over the years, this is lovingly referred to as “Mom blowing like Mount Krakatoa.”

The Anatomy of an Eruption

A seemingly minor occurrence at the wrong time results in total loss of collection. I recall my youngest, Tyler, who is very logical and precise, having a difficult time writing a fictional story because – and I quote – “How can I write about something that didn’t happen?”

Hours later, I blew. Jesse and Curtis scattered while Tyler bravely faced it head on. At one point I snapped “Son of a bitch!” and his lip quirked up, holding back a laugh. It was just what I needed to collect myself – after I stopped laughing.

What Collected Actually Means (Hint: It’s About Snakes)

To me, collected means having all the snakes in my head in line, having my resources to keep it together. The snakes are all those thoughts, worries, misinterpretations, overthinking, assigning erroneous meaning to other people’s actions and words.

When they’re not in line? You ruminate, overthink, have imaginary conversations telling that person what you really think (which of course you would never do). It’s an unspoken thing, but Curtis definitely knows when I’m fraying at the edges despite the calm, cool, collected exterior and smile on my face.

The Build-Up to Mount Krakatoa

Initially, it doesn’t feel like much. Some wrong communication where I internalize it, decide it didn’t necessarily mean what I feel like it means. Then work 10 hours and have to figure out dinner while Curtis is on the couch, sink full of dishes.

Over time, these build and layer. Somewhere they morph into: I’m not appreciated. People are taking advantage. No one sees how hard I’m working. No one cares. The story builds with all these little legs of belief. The internalization gets harder, shoulders rise higher, little voices of negativity start nagging until something small sparks the tinderbox.

Game over.

When the kids were younger, eruptions came every six months or so – infrequent enough that no one knew when it was coming but frequent enough to leave mild terror in their hearts. (Okay, maybe not that bad, but…) These days it’s more like once every couple years.

The Great News Escape of 2020

The last eruption I remember was 2020 during COVID and a house remodel. Curtis and I were living and working from our bedroom; the rest of the house was completely torn apart. It was election time. Curtis loves the news. I hate the news.

After hours of political nonsense on the TV, I begged him to turn it off. He said, “We have to stay informed.” I took my phone, went to my car in the driveway, and happily watched a movie.

Until the movie was over.

Then it occurred to me: “Where in seven hells does that man actually think I am for the past two hours?”

And there she blew.

(After I blow, I regain collection really quickly except for the lingering embarrassment over blowing. LOL.)

When Collection Matters Most

My collection during the days in the ICU with Curtis actually amazed me. I couldn’t believe the strength and resilience I had in those circumstances. Curtis spent days with ICU psychosis – disoriented, angry, scared, lost. He would sleep for a few minutes, wake up disoriented, and I would calmly say:

“Honey, you’re in the ICU due to complications with your surgery. You are on medications that are making you confused and making you see things. They aren’t real, but I am here with you.”

I literally said this hundreds of times a day. Each time, it calmed him and brought him back to a sense of security – and me back to a place of collection.

One of the nurses who had been with him several days, John, commented that in all his years as a nurse, he had never seen a loved one be such a source of strength and comfort to a patient. But even strength has limits. And when the snakes escape, they really escape.

When the Snakes Escape

That collection came from necessity, love, and wanting to have some control over something, however small. But I broke down memorably twice.

When the doctors told me they couldn’t guarantee he would survive – that he was in critical condition – I went out to the waiting room and bawled. I sobbed and moaned and wouldn’t have recognized myself. The snakes went everywhere at that moment and were not to be contained.

Another day, after 13 hours at the hospital, I was heading home at 11 PM. The hospital was 55 minutes away (due to the hurricane destroying the hospital he’d been evacuated from). I was five minutes from home when he called, terrified, and begged me to come back.

Of course I did. But I cried a good deal of the way, feeling badly that I’d left, that he was terrified, and also because I was exhausted.

The Worst-Case Strategy That Works

In the face of something big, I take it out to its worst possible conclusion – not in a negative way, but just so I can know that even if the worst happens, I’ll be okay. Then I can go back to being collected.

When Curtis’s glider kit business ended due to legislation, I immediately mapped out our bills with nothing coming in from him at all, just to make sure we could make it on only my income. It was tight but doable. I was able to breathe again. Knowing we’d be okay even if nothing came in on Curtis’s end let me release the worry about what he was going to do.

(Of course he found another job and started earning again, but I was collected throughout.) Collection isn’t always about money. Sometimes it’s emotional triage – like when Al’s inner Chicken Little flaps into frame…

Managing the Eeyore-Chicken Little Moments

When Al is having his moments, I need to rise to the occasion – we can’t both be going off the deep end. I start reminding him of our blessings and how much we’ve come through. It’s weird, but his crisis makes me more collected.

It’s when I’m dealing with work stressors and he’s not paying attention to them that I really start to go off the rails. There’s a certain amount of strife I can deal with, but when they start piling with no reprieve, my resources wane until I can’t keep it collected any longer.

The Evolution of Collection

I was far less collected at 40. The additional 20 years have given my table of beliefs far more legs – even in the face of adversity or stress, I’ve always come through everything.

The evolution from erupting every six months to every couple years? The kids maturing and moving out helped a lot, but so did age and wisdom. Being grateful for them every morning helps too.

🐍 Your Snake-Wrangling Toolkit

Daily Collection:

1. Name Your Snakes – Identify the thoughts, worries, misinterpretations
2. Resource Check – When resources are full, snake-wrangling is easy
3. Worst-Case Planning – Take it to the conclusion, find it manageable
4. Create Space – Sometimes sitting in the car is perfectly valid

Crisis Collection:

1. Find Your Mantra – Mine was explaining Curtis’s condition hundreds of times
2. Accept Breakdown Moments – Snakes will escape in waiting rooms
3. Use Necessity as Fuel – Sometimes you’re collected because you have to be
4. Let Others Witness – Nurse John saw my strength when I couldn’t

Mount Krakatoa Prevention:

1. Track the Build-Up – Notice when stories start forming
2. Address Early – Don’t let dishes become “no one cares”
3. Find Your Interval – Mine went from 6 months to 2 years
4. Have an Escape Plan – Cars are good for movie watching

The Truth About Being Collected at 60

Being collected doesn’t mean never erupting. It doesn’t mean the snakes are always in line. Sometimes it means saying the same calming words hundreds of times while your husband has ICU psychosis. Sometimes it means mapping out bills to prove you’ll survive. Sometimes it means watching a movie in your car because the news is too much.

Curtis definitely knows the signs now. He’s great at giving me space or whatever I need. Sometimes he just provides a supportive platform to listen to my grievances about work without trying to fix anything – just commiserate and empathize.

If I have all my resources, snake-wrangling is easy. When something has taxed my resources or too much has built up, sometimes it’s like a volcano – it just has to go off.

The key is knowing this about yourself. Recognizing that tip-toeing isn’t the same as being collected. Understanding that sometimes staying collected when someone deserves your eruption leaves you disappointed in yourself for putting their comfort so far above your own.

At 60, I’ve learned that true collection isn’t about perfect composure. It’s about having most of your snakes in line most of the time, knowing when Mount Krakatoa is building, and having a husband who doesn’t notice when you’ve been watching movies in the car for two hours.

Where in seven hells did he think I was? Becoming collected, that’s where.

Join our community of women wrangling snakes and preventing volcanic eruptions. Share your best Mount Krakatoa moment or your most creative escape plan below.

P.S. To all the partners who don’t notice we’ve left the room for two hours: We love you, but seriously?