I have not felt like a good mom lately.
And before many rush in to reassure me that “none of us are perfect parents” and lament systems and cultures that put unrealistic pressure on us; I do understand that. Honestly I do.
This isn’t about me feeling bad for not being perfect. This is me feeling bad for me not feeling like me.
Part of it is that (like I’ve shared) that I have had a large amount of stress in my marriage for a year and a half, and that halfway through that I hit burnout mode. I could see the signs and hit the brakes on anything that didn’t feel essential, even things I like for my own sake (but, “because PDA” meant they still triggered my anxiety).
I can see signs of recovery; gradually my house is climbing up to my own standards, I’m able to go out more often and enjoy myself without feeling automatically triggered and exhausted. But what feels like the “last stretch” is me having very fragile tolerance for anything involving being around young children. The natural needs, sounds, visual stimuli are all to be expected and yet my nerves jump and I’m snapping at my kids just being kids.
As I do my brain starts whirling looking for solutions: What is my body saying it NEEDS? What are the kids saying with their behavior they need?
My need I realized is that I absolutely do need predictable breaks. My kids are home 24/7 and have erratic sleep schedules. I’m here on my own now, no partner to pass the responsibilities to on a regular basis.
What I do have is a parenting partner with his own place and who wants to see them. Recently that has looked wobbly as he finds his bearing (he has his own diagnosis and mental health needs to juggle along with a full time job, so I’m not casting shade), but I realized how important it was for me to have a consistency as part of this arrangement.
I remembered a quote from Anne of Green Gables,
“Oh Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them”
In my case it isn’t merely about pleasure, it’s about the mechanics that go into allotting internal resources as needed. The me who knows she is going to have time alone to herself for two days is able to take more risks through the week than the me who doesn’t have that certainty.
With my PDA as well I notice that my ability to rest during my restful periods is cut almost in half because it adds an element of “pressure”; the uncertainty factor turning my brain on high alert that “Now is it! Get the rest in while you can because before you know it, it’s gone!” There have been times I’ve walked away from breaks without feeling rested at all because my internal alarm system is on high alert through the entire thing.
And by my ability to “take risks” I mean activities that may lead to enrichment are also activities that have an equal chance of exhausting me, depending on so many factors. If I don’t know that I’m going to have protected time to recharge then I’m less likely to take that risk, and am more likely to duck down into low power mode.
Low power mode is less of myself I have to offer my kids. Less flexibility, less resilience, less patience… less of me being able to offer my full attention to my kids because I’m exerting so much attention into not ending in highly dysregulated, explosive territory.
I do love my kids and I will never strive for the impossibility laced in “perfection”, but I do believe in the holistic goal of wanting my kids to have the gift of a parent who can give them her attention; not only one who is scrambling all the time for essential resources.