Hi Lucy,
How to deal with the feeling that I hate being a mom (not 100% of the time but it’s scarily too often)? The lack of freedom, sacrifice in health and career, endless chores all the time, and frankly I feel like life becomes so mundane. On top of that, the toddlers don’t listen and suck all the patience out of me. I can barely do a good job at work (like pre-kids), and just trying to manage an okay performance. I am not sure how to help myself getting out of this negativity. Thank you.
Thanks,
Pam
Works at: New York Life
Dear Pam,
I once saw a quote on Instagram and it resonated with me so much. It went something like, "I love my children, but I hate parenting". I was like, oh my god, I thought I was the only one. Recently I found this article too, that touches on this topic perfectly.
The hardest part of all this is the disconnect I think between what we know to be logically true and yet still so emotionally so bad - that we should enjoy caring for the ones we love the most, that we should treasure every waking minute because they don't "stay small forever", but at the same time, it often feels like an emotional chokehold where we are condemned to the same nitty gritty daily tasks that drain and drain us.
I want to share something that happened to me about two years ago. I was working 8am - 5pm then 8-11pm every day, and stressed about childcare, stressed about my mom's health (she had a cancer relapse), and still stressed about COVID. At the time my older one had just started daycare, so she would get sick literally every week. She was a year and half and couldn't talk yet, so every evening she would come home from daycare and roll on the floor and scream for a good 30 minutes, and we were never sure if it was because she was just adjusting from daycare, if she was just too young and suffering from a full day of daycare, or if she was getting sick. I dreaded work, but I dreaded taking care of her even more. I drank wine almost every evening, and my breakfast was often black coffee and (I'm so embarrassed to say this) Flaming Hot Cheetos that I would wolf down during virtual work meetings. I fantasized about expensive luxury purchases like diamonds and handbags. Those were things that brought me joy.
I was on the edge all the time, and one day I looked around at our apartment and I snapped. I couldn't deal with the daily mind-numbing routine anymore, nor the thought of my kid's constant screams, nor the scaffolding that had been outside our window for two years, nor the crushing, never ending pressure from work, nor the anxieties about my mom's health. I looked around the apartment and I saw mess here, mess there, and I started throwing things. I felt such a blinding rage. I flipped chairs, I pushed all the stuff off the table and paper flew everywhere. I trashed my daughter's pile of stickers. I threw her books on the floor. And I just screamed and screamed like I was possessed and all I could hear myself say over and over again was "I can't do this anymore". I just kept saying it, over and over and over, while shaking and hyperventilating.
Immediately after my "episode", I felt ashamed. I was ashamed that I couldn't handle the things that I had always thought working moms could handle - and with grace. I was ashamed that I had trashed the little things that had brought my little love so much joy, that had come to represent beautiful memories of childhood and innocence. I was ashamed I had lost control.
It took me a long time to come to terms with my behavior that day. When I finally did, I asked myself what "this" was that I said I couldn't do anymore. Was it work? Was it living in New York? Was it childcare? Was it living in this apartment? Was it being married??????
And I looked around and I realized all of my life was in fact, fine. There wasn't a single part of my life that I truly "could not do" anymore. No, I had snapped because of the pressure I was putting on myself - and the craziest thing was, I didn't even realize I was doing it. I was raised to strive for perfection, taught to strive for "high performance", and conditioned to have a desire to control for every outcome. I had these implicit expectations of what my life looked like and what parenting looked like, and whenever it deviated, I would become anxious, depressed, and angry.
Things got a lot better after that, because honestly, I let myself go a bit. It was okay if my kid watched a lot of TV one weekend; it was okay if our home was a mess; it was okay if my kid spilled things or her hair wasn't washed for a week; it was okay if she ate nothing but snacks one day. It was okay if she never wanted to go outside (we spent countless weekends just being indoors and not seeing the sun).
In yoga, a large part is about finding peace in situations of constraint. We go into these poses that are straining and uncomfortable, and yet, we have to find "space" in these poses by breathing into them. Whenever I feel constraints tightening their grips on me in life, I always remind myself of what it's like to be in these yoga poses. Space is not created in the absence of constraint but in lieu of them. We will never be completely free of constraint in life, but we always have the freedom to choose how we respond to them.
So, I challenge you to find that space in the mundane and breathe life into it. It could be that you explore a new place with your family one weekend; it could be that you take some time off from work for a much needed vacation; it could be that you jump into the bath with your child and splash around; it could be that you grab your husband one evening after the kids have gone to bed (prob like 12am at this point but still) and open up a really, really expensive bottle of alcohol. Ask yourself, what does "lightness" and "joy" look like in your life? Close your eyes and picture it, dare to imagine.
Warmly,
Lucy
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