There I was, in the middle of the disaster zone also known as my kitchen. A toddler screaming to be let loose from his high chair, the spilled milk from my 4 year old dripping onto his lap and puddling on the floor, the mountain of laundry looming to the left, the dirty dishes piled to the right, and me. No one ever told me about this part of motherhood. The part where emptiness consumes, loneliness magnifies, and the overwhelm of daily life is crippling.
As someone who defines myself as a mother, a moment like that meant I was doing something wrong. Only the social media worthy moments meant I was doing something right. All of the parenting books, magazines, and blogs helped feed my unhealthy striving towards “perfect” motherhood. Furthermore, the expectations I placed on the behavior of my children was akin to asking them to hike to the summit of Mt. Everest. When they couldn't reach it, I was angry and disappointed.
Being a mom had become my unhealthy, life-defining passion.
Growing tiny humans to be contributing members of society is filled with purpose. It is a wonderful thing to be a mother, but the trouble comes when it's the only thing. It became clear to me when my first two kids were past the toddler stage that my purpose for 5 years had been motherhood alone. I had lost my identity in the middle of toddlerhood. Every ounce of self was hidden under layers of diapers, snuggles, tantrums, and story times. I had been set adrift in a sea of mothering with no anchor keeping me grounded to life outside of it.
Was I a bad mom for wanting to claim some time back for myself? . . .
If you feel like you've lost yourself in motherhood you've come to the right place. Nourish yourself with encouragement and weekly support.