March 12, 2016
I used to be an adrenaline junkie. A true thrill-seeker. I dove into experiences without a second thought—quite literally; bridge jumping was my jam! I fearlessly explored new places and met new people.
But everything shifted once my kids arrived. It wasn’t an overnight transformation. During the early days of my twins’ lives, I sought out small thrills wherever I could. Three times a week, I drove alone to my part-time college classes, and as I sped over the bridge on my way home, I’d rev the engine just enough to get that exhilarating rush in my stomach.
However, by the time my youngest was 6 months old, just stepping onto an airplane filled me with dread. Simply walking along the curb while a bus zoomed past became a source of anxiety. I grew increasingly anxious about spoiled food, minor health issues, and beach outings. Even carnival rides became overwhelming.
If there was the slightest chance—no matter how small—that something could harm me or my children, I’d spiral into panic.
Of course, small children have a knack for testing your emotional limits. I’ll never forget one evening when I was preparing dinner, and my downstairs neighbor called to inform me that my 5-year-old had figured out how to unlock our third-floor windows and was dangling toys and trash out, letting them drop to the ground below.
I keep telling myself that nothing has changed, but deep down, I know that’s not true. Motherhood has reshaped my perspective, making me realize just how critical my life is in a way I never contemplated before. Before having kids, I lived for myself. Now, the thought of my death feels catastrophic, a tragedy that would forever alter their lives. Being a mother has instilled in me a sense of being irreplaceable, and that weight can be suffocating. Sometimes, the pressure is too much for my mind to manage; I find myself doubling my medication just to get through a simple flight instead of enjoying the view as the ground shrinks beneath me.
Once a thrill-seeker, I now find myself obsessively counting whenever I’m in public (one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three children, one, two, three…).
I know it sounds absurd. I realize much of it is in my head. But motherhood has that effect on you.
I hope that in the future, as my children grow older, my constant worry about inadvertently ruining their lives fades away. I want to be the mom who rides roller coasters with my teens. I dream of being the mom who treks to Machu Picchu when my kids are off at college. I’m eager to embrace all the adventures I envisioned when I had kids young, to live boldly while they forge their paths.
But unless this anxious side of me diminishes like my kids’ baby fat, I might never become that daring mom. I could remain the woman who triple-checks expiration dates on groceries, secures every window lock, and watches rides from the ground with my feet firmly planted. I might spend extra years fretting over the little things instead of fully embracing life.
In 15 years, I’ll know the truth. If I suddenly find myself running off to Prague for a month without understanding a word of Czech, or leaping from a perfectly good airplane, or embarking on a DIY cob house project, I’ll understand that I’ve overcome my maternal neuroses. Until then, I’ll keep biting my nails and adding yet another deadbolt to our front door.
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Summary:
Motherhood has transformed my once daring spirit into one filled with anxiety. From the thrill of bridge jumping to a fear of flying and everyday hazards, my perspective has shifted dramatically since having children. I grapple with the weight of my irreplaceability and the constant worry about their safety. While I hope to reclaim some of my adventurous spirit in the future, for now, I find myself in a cycle of overprotection and anxiety.