Silent Eruption

I’m on the brink.

Stressed. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Shaken. Scared.

But it’s bottled deep. Because I need to be a dad and a husband. I need to be a performer. I need to be the one who delivers.

Yet I feel behind and buried. Almost crushed.

I’m not sure I can continue. Not sure I can find a moment to breathe.

One change to the plan. One small shift. It all feels like catastrophe.

And so I stay silent, hoping the lava never reaches the surface. Hoping it won’t burn or scar anything I love.

But I’ve recognized something.

The path to calm isn’t pretending the volcano isn’t there.

It’s speaking.

Admitting there’s pressure beneath the surface.
Declaring that plans and expectations must be clear.
Acknowledging that my neurodivergent brain needs structure with no surprises. Communication, not assumption. Compassion, not criticism.

Silence doesn’t prevent eruption.

It guarantees it.

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