Mutha Magazine Article Allison -

Allison remembers the exact fluorescent hum of the Stop & Shop on Route 9. It was 2:47 PM on a Tuesday. She had thirty-three minutes to get the gluten-free dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets (the ones her youngest would only eat if the eyes were perfectly spaced), almond milk, the specific brand of cheddar bunnies that didn’t have “weird coloring,” and a sympathy card for her mother-in-law’s neighbor.

Her legs went soft. She didn’t faint. She simply sat down on the linoleum floor, right between the flaxseed and the chia. She pulled her knees to her chest. And she wept—not the elegant, tear-streaked cry of a movie mother, but the guttural, snotty, animal sound of a creature who has been running for so long that the idea of stopping feels like dying. mutha magazine article allison

It has been fourteen months since the cereal aisle. Allison is not “cured.” She still loves her children with a ferocity that frightens her. She still packs lunches sometimes, but now it’s because she wants to, not because she believes the universe will collapse if she doesn’t. She still cries in the car. She still has days where she wants to walk into the ocean. Allison remembers the exact fluorescent hum of the