This post was brought about as a combination of two things: 1. thoughts I’ve been having lately, and 2. a response to a friend of mine who commented recently.
One of the biggest struggles I’ve faced as a mother is the intense desire to pity myself. I am NOT a selfless person, by any stretch of the imagination. On a good day, being a mom is challenging. I like challenges, especially if they can be overcome. It’s permanently ingrained in me.
On the BAD days, however, the Pity Monster is waiting. I just want to curl up into a ball and close my eyes until it all goes away. The thought is constantly popping up in my head: “This is NOT your life! How can this be your life? How did you let it get to this? You deserve so much better!”
What I’ve come to realize, is that the extent to which the day was hard does not directly correlate with how hard the day was! In some ways, in fact, the difficult days are easier, because I feel justified in saying, “Yup. This sucks.” For example, the last few days, I’ve been dealing NONSTOP with poop and vomit. Last week, G had 2 poop blowouts/day, along with Claire vomiting and having bloody diarrhea all over the house (and my foot…ugh). For some reason, while I was temporarily exasperated by the whole thing, I wasn’t undone. I felt okay. Sure, I gladly accepted Jesse’s offer to finish bathing the dog for me (she had been rolling in her own feces, so she was DISGUSTING), but I didn’t feel like I was at the breaking point.
But there are other days when I feel as though life is just too difficult. It can be something as simple as G dropping his pacifier for the upteenth time.
And I feel the Pity Monster creeping in.
It causes me to stop relating with others around me. Jesse says, “Whew! I am Sooo tired!” and I give him a glare and launch into how I was up all night with G, he has NO RIGHT to talk! Courtney tries to say that Jonathan only took three naps that day, and I interject how I would kill for that. Instead of being able to hear other people and accept their struggles as valid, I can only hear the din of my own thoughts, telling me that my pain is sooo much worse than anyone else’s. Not only that, but my pain can often become more precious to me than these relationships. It’s almost like I’m saying, “Don’t you DARE try to take away my pain!” because if someone discredits it, I feel as though I’ll be exposed as a failure.
I think that mothers are very prone to this feeling. We are each deeply attached and connected to the way in which we parent, because it isn’t just a job description, it’s a calling. When that baby enters the world, a whole new level of love and commitment opens up. Naturally, how one first comes to know and navigate this new world is of first rate personal importance. Every mom wants to share the details of how they did it, because they can’t help but fixate on it. Who wouldn’t? Life, as we knew it, has changed forever.
Naturally, as a result of being so wrapped up, it’s difficult to see the forest through the trees. Every problem becomes a huge deal. Many emotions are overblown (this could also be due to the sleep deprivation). Add in the hormones, and sanity is all but a distant memory. (Disclaimer: I am not trying to say that the reason Moms have hard days is only because their emotions are out of whack. I love it when Jesse has a chance to “play mom” for a day– he always comes out of it with a greater appreciation for how much work it is to care for a baby!)
What I AM trying (ever so feebly) to say, is that a natural result of all this is that Mothers can feel very alone. They spend all day, fixated on a million tiny details that don’t mean a thing to the average Joe, but mean EVERYTHING to them and the well-being of their baby. A stay-at-home mom has this double-fold, especially if they were accustomed to being out in the world, amongst others every day. Ever wonder why so many moms blog? They’re LONELY! You would be too, if you spent all day with a little person who can’t speak!
I think that the Pity Monster feeds voraciously on this lonely, myopic Mom. If you already feel separated, in large, from the rest of society, then it is merely a tiny step towards feeling like your pain, your struggles, are worse than anyone else’s. How hard the problem actually is, at this point, is irrelevant. Anything, even something small like dropping a pacifier on the ground, will encourage the Pity Monster.
I write all this because it’s something I’ve been struggling with a lot over the past few months. Giving in to pity, even for a split second, pulls me into a despair vortex like no other. In an effort to stay sane and not let the drudgery of the day to day hardships get to me, I’ve taken the offensive approach– combat these feelings with humor and optimism. Even if G only smiles once, I take that and run with it. Even if he’s screaming his head off at me, I talk away happily back at him. If he’s screaming and nothing I do helps, I leave him in his crib and try to get something productive done in the kitchen. That way, I am at least distracting myself from the lurking pity and despair.
Really, there’s not much else I can do. If the kid is gonna scream, I think, the only thing that I can control in this moment is my response.
I haven’t built up the nerves to withstand days upon days of incessant screaming, because, thank God, I haven’t had to. God has allowed me to dodge quite a few bullets thus far in my short time as a parent. Perhaps those same bullets are waiting for me later on down the road. I have no way of knowing. I can’t control it.
But I can control my response and fight hard to keep everything in perspective. Remembering my priorities also helps, because who cares if I have a clean house but my child is neglected and miserable? Who cares if I checked off every box on my chore list, but am too tired to relax with Jesse in the evenings?
My response to these things is all that matters, because it’s all that God has given me to control. Maybe when I’m done solving that, I can move on to World Peace 🙂
Related postsThat God May Be Glorified |
Bad Day |
Manic |
Motherhood Is Not My Calling |
Courtney says
whew, tough thoughts, kelly. father joe once counseled me that feeling alone was pretty much satan’s number one tactic in taking us out. like the animal that’s alone in the herd is easily taken out by predators, if satan can get us to feel alone, he can take us out. we’re not really alone, but it sure does feel like that sometime. i’ve been thinking a lot about control recently, too, and how i quickly begin to resent God for giving me people in my life who i love so much, but giving me absolutely no control over how they interact with me, affect me, live with me, heck…even survive this life. i’m emotionally attached to the people in my life but have no control over what they will do to me…sometimes i wish God would help me protect myself more. and then i come to think of God as one of the persons i need to protect myself from. and there i am…feeling VERY alone, exactly where satan wants me. so i control what i can…housework, family (as much as possible), schedules. ultimately, you’re right, all we can control is our response to things, but that feels so reactive instead of active. but i think it’s actually more active than we give it credit for…it’s some of the hardest action to do…controlling our responses. thanks for the thoughts
(ps i’m actually VERY happy these days if j takes 3 naps…it’s now the lengths i get upset about. what are you thinking, kid?! only an hour!? i wanted two!!! 😉 well aware that some days, you’d be THRILLED for an hour. i’m a baby when it comes to my time) 🙂
Beth says
I can definitely relate. I’ve been there. I AM there.
It’s the strangest feeling when I’m instantaneously overwhelmed and Jackson is whining and Avery is crying inconsolably and I just don’t know what to do. And in my head, I’m trying to reason with myself. “She’s a baby. Baby’s cry. She’s not normally like this.” But the pity monster responds: “So what. 4 months of no sleep. I can’t take this. I can’t do this right now! Enough is enough.” But it’s part of the job description to deal with it. It’s not optional. You just have to get through it somehow.
And the way we moms interact with each other can be brutal. I remember one day I shared with a friend that Jackson had said “Elmo” out of nowhere and it was just amazing to me. He just looked at a picture of Elmo and said it. And my friend’s response was “Sesame Street actually did a study and determined that was the easiest name for babies to repeat.” Hard to describe the tone of it, but it was, in a word, dismissive. Even condescending. And I was so sad. It was more than a year ago, and it still makes me sad. Because that was the highlight of that day. That week. These details that meant nothing to her, were everything to me, and my whole life was (and is) wrapped up in these little moments. And apparently it was “easy” and “every kid can do that.”
And yes, blogging is a way to cope with loneliness. And to be able to use an adult vocabulary and feel like someone, somewhere can “hear” you and understand you. And relate. Or that someone besides you cares that your kid said “Elmo” for the first time or is learning to count and might even get a smile out of it.
Thanks for posting this. Thanks for encouraging your fellows moms to approach the challenges with the right attitude.
Pam Bartel says
Kelly, great thoughts from you and the ladies who commented. Being able to control our responses and keeping the right perspective is so important when your kids are babies and as they grow up. I wish I had been able to be this articulate about how I was feeling when I was your ages. I also grieve the fact that I have at times been one of those moms who have not rejoiced with other moms about their child’s accomplishments, but rather judged them or envied them.