Why, as moms, do we think we have to be all things? On top of this, why do we expect that we can do this all with a perfectly cheery attitude and Insta-worthy home while keeping a regular exercise program and scheduled mental health check-ins?
Then top on a good heaping of mom-guilt of “Am I screwing my kids up?” and “How many nights in a row is it bad to not serve vegetables?” mixed in with, “If I sign them up for (fill in sport here), will I be exposing them?” sprinkled with a bit of “Am I spending enough time with them?”
Oh, right, and do that all in the middle of a pandemic?
At some point, we are going to break.
I’m nervous as a person but didn’t realize this was anxiety until late in my life. I am still learning how to identify an anxiety attack because they feel different depending on the situation. Sometimes, it is a feeling of spinning, weak in the knees, and almost flu-like. Occasionally, I’ll see stars, and my blood pressure will rise or drop. Other times, I can feel my heart start to beat fast and it is like the noise around me becomes walls, pressing in on all my sides. Finally, the one I do not seem to recognize as anxiety, it can feel like I have to fix a situation… now.
Covid really has sucked for us anxious folks. Especially when one of your regular triggers for anxiety is illness in the people you love. I am not good with flu season so this was another level right from the get-go. Two years later, I’m pretty worn out.
And you know what, it’s okay to say that your soul is tired. It’s like my husband says, “No one gave you instructions on how to be a parent during a pandemic.”
Yesterday was rough in my world. An email that was not meant to be critical whatsoever hit a very sensitive spot in my heart, yielding the line of thinking, “Am I screwing up my kids?” I spent five hours a decent chunk of the day in tears or fighting them back, not fully recognizing much of my reaction was anxiety talking and convincing me I needed to fix something now… but also knowing I couldn’t. It was a precarious place.
Finally, my husband held my hand and repeated words I needed to hear again. “It is okay to not be okay, you know? You’re parenting in a pandemic. This isn’t normal.”
He is right. Nothing about this is normal. How are we supposed to be okay in a situation we can’t figure out and pretty much no living person can give us any advice on how to handle this from a parenting perspective?
I didn’t give myself that grace last night.
I knew I had to sit through really hard thoughts and a lengthy spirit-crushing, mental ping-pong game. I knew it would pass… usually sooner than five hours. So I waited, and although I couldn’t give myself grace, my husband gave me it instead.
This pandemic is no joke. If you are struggling, reach out for help. Talk to someone. Call up insurance and see if you can have appointments through teledoc or online therapy. Ask a friend to go for a walk and get away from the spot you are sitting. Normalize that this moment is hard and it is perfectly fine to say, “Hey, listen. I’m not really good right now and I could use a friend.”
Because it is okay to not be okay. When we normalize that, it becomes easier to find a friend to sit with you through it until you are back again… even if it takes five hours.
