I just need to TAKE A SHOWER, the voice in my head screams. I just want a moment of solitude, to fold laundry without a child clinging to me. Wait. No. I DON’T even want to fold laundry. When did my days become so monotonous that my ability to fold laundry became a measure of my worth? Ugh.
That inner voice is relentless. Chaotic. It doesn’t even feel like me. But, of course, it is. It’s my hidden mom voice, the one that echoes in my mind during my toughest days—when my toddler is being obstinate, when the baby is teething, and when deadlines loom larger than life.
In those moments, escaping that mental space feels almost impossible. I walk through the kitchen, and my partner, Jake, glances at me with concern: “Are you okay?”
I hesitate, then reply, “No.” I’m lying, of course. Tears have been streaming down my face, but I struggle to articulate my feelings with the kids watching. So I say nothing.
As the day continues, I attempt to recover, but my emotions are as clear as the plastic sippy cup on the counter. “What’s bothering you?” he asks gently.
I can’t hold it in anymore. I spill my thoughts, even as fatigue weighs heavily on me. I don’t recall my exact words, but it was something like this:
This is incredibly difficult. We used to have such a vibrant life. I used to venture out, connect with friends, dress up, and enjoy late-night conversations. We went on weekend adventures, and I danced in the front row while you performed. The bar was filled with familiar faces. I used to shower daily, maintain a clean house, and feel energized.
Right now, I feel like I’m losing myself. This home we were so excited to buy feels more like a cage. I live here, work here, and parent here. Getting out is a Herculean task with nap times, breastfeeding, and toddler tantrums. What’s the point of leaving just to be the mom in Target—dressed in spit-up with dry shampoo as my only nod to personal care and chipped nails as a reminder of the vibrant person I used to be?
My existence has shrunk to the point that even a trip to Target seems unjustifiable, and I’m utterly spent. This isn’t who I am, and I can’t keep going like this.
In the yard, while the kids nap, I’m outside doing chores. The soothing sounds of the ocean from my son’s noise machine drift through the monitor, becoming the soundtrack of my life, almost inaudible now. I break down in the driveway, sobbing into Jake’s arms as neighbors pass by.
“What do I do?” he asks softly. His tenderness comforts me but also deepens my despair. I realize he’s just as confused about how to help me as I am.
We’re not accustomed to me facing problems that don’t have straightforward solutions. I retreat inside, grab my laptop, and begin to write. Writing has always been my refuge when I feel lost.
That was months ago, and I’ve come to understand this: The only way to move forward is to go through it. Motherhood is exhausting, and raising a baby is no easy feat. The toddler years are bewildering. Let’s not sugarcoat it.
Yet, there might be beauty in that breakdown. It was rooted in the feelings of powerlessness, isolation, and the overwhelming responsibility of nurturing little beings. When we shed light on these themes, it becomes clear that they resonate with many mothers.
In a period when the last thing you need is another hurdle, it serves as a reminder to rise above. While I wish I could say I had an epiphany right away, the truth is, I spent the next hour writing and crying while battling that mad mom voice in my head. Then, I decided to step out, treating myself to coffee and a book while wandering around the local bookstore, aimless yet alone.
That day marked a pivotal moment. I couldn’t escape the deepest breakdown of my motherhood journey without substantial reflection and change.
So what’s next? I repeatedly asked myself. Is this how it’s going to be, or will I take action? The answer was clear: I would not succumb to my misery, wrapping it around me like a comforting blanket. There’s always something to be done—the problem and the solution all in one.
The responsibilities of being a mom, partner, homeowner, and self-employed woman are never-ending. There’s always something on the to-do list. Yet, there’s also always something I can do to nurture myself—always.
I had to embrace the duality of that phrase, learning essential lessons along the way. Being a mom doesn’t equate to the picture-perfect moments I once envisioned. I find myself balancing between being a working mom and a stay-at-home mom, with neither role being glamorous or easy. Both are fraught with guilt, uncertainty, and yes, a mountain of laundry.
Instead of fixating on the laundry pile, I needed to reassess my expectations. And where did I place my own needs on that infinite to-do list? I can’t expect others to fulfill my needs; I must express them and take what I deserve without guilt. It’s essential to be kinder to myself.
This realization might seem simple, but it’s been a journey of letting go, compromising, and reassessing. My children are young, and I have many more years of this balancing act ahead. If I lose myself in the process, what becomes of me when they grow up and leave? I don’t want to find out the answer to that question.
I can’t claim to have everything figured out. I can’t say motherhood will ever be simple. But when I asked myself, “What’s next, Mama?” I found my strength. I regained my sanity, silenced that frantic voice, and stopped resisting the inevitable chaos of motherhood.
Whenever I feel myself drifting from this lesson, I return to that initial question: What now, Mama? One thing is certain—there’s always something to tackle.
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In summary, embracing the chaos of motherhood can lead to personal growth and newfound clarity. Acknowledging the challenges allows us to find solidarity in our experiences, providing the strength to confront our struggles and prioritize our well-being.