The Two Moms Who Exist Inside Me
A tale of mental health, burnout, and trying to find my way back
Welcome to the Trauma-Informed Take, where we discuss mental health, parenting, religion and religious trauma, and the patriarchy. I think we touch on all those topics at least to some extent today, but I focus much more directly (and *gulp* personally!) about mental health in this article! Would someone you know benefit from this article? Please share it with them!
I have two mothers inside me.
One mom – I'll call her Christine, since she’s the one I hope is home base – is sweet, fairly patient, and says the “right” things to her kids. She is present to them during the day – not just physically, but mentally, too. She takes delight in the little ways they are growing up, or the new things they are learning. Most importantly, she’s satisfied with her life.
The other mom I’ll call Sad Sally (no offense to any Sallys out there). She is tired, but not just tired – she's despondent. She is irritable and snappy because she is stressed and overwhelmed. She wonders why in the world she signed up for this mothering gig in the first place. She cannot remember feeling happy. And sometimes, she wishes she did not exist.
These two moms coexist inside me. Sally can be on the outside for a week or two at a time, and then suddenly Christine is back at the helm. And Sally can even be the one existing in my head while Christine’s voice comes out my mouth (even I don’t know how this happens). Sometimes the shift occurs within hours, or minutes. Small things can set off Sally – the whine of the baby, or a long day packed with clients, or a tiff with my spouse.
I am aware of the relative ease of my life. I hear stories from my clients and others in general, all the time, that would bring me to my knees if it were my life. I don’t know if I have the stamina for such hard things. I marvel at their resiliency and capacity to keep on living, and wonder why I would do in their shoes. Whether I would have the will to survive at all.
One thing I have been wondering lately is whether I just have a more sensitive nervous system than many other people do. By “nervous system,” I’m referring to the way that I respond to sensory stimuli. For instance, we went to a busy downtown event in our small town last weekend, and it was too much for me. Or another example: No parent loves the sound of their children whining and crying, but it more quickly threatens to overwhelm me than I wish it would (or frankly, is practical for our lives).
And when I get overwhelmed by all the things and it goes on for too long, I find myself dropping into depression.
In trying to puzzle out why I dip into despondency sometimes, I’m going to lean on a little psychology to help enlighten me. We talk about the “Window of Tolerance” as a mental place where people can respond to life’s challenges in a resilient, healthy way. Hiccups come and we respond appropriately and keep moving on, no problem.
But above our window of tolerance is a place of high stress and anxiety (hyperarousal, meaning too much arousal). It’s our fight or flight response, where we get activated, our heart rate increases, and we’re ready to take action. It feels jittery – irritable – snappy – stressed. It’s our body trying to provide us the energy we need to take action on a stressful situation.
The problem is, we can’t stay in that space for forever – we'd get completely worn out. So then we sometimes fall below our window of tolerance, to a place of depression (hypoarousal, meaning too little arousal). We are tired, shutdown, nonfunctional, sad, despondent. This is the freeze response, or the lay down and play dead response. The “Maybe if I just stop feeling everything, things will go away” response.
It’s hard to feel that way.
In an effort to have compassion on myself, I’m trying to practice gentleness with how I feel and also see if there’s anything I can do to ease the sense of being overwhelmed and fried. Luckily for me, I am self-employed so I do actually have some control over my work, but it requires me to rein in people-pleasing and a belief that it is my job to fix things for everyone.
I’ve realized the breakneck pace I’ve been seeing clients at is probably not sustainable for the long term: some people can see 7-8 clients a day multiple days a week and be fine, but I am not one of them (especially because so many of the other hours of the days are filled with active childcare). I have to learn to be okay telling people no, I can’t see them right now. I have to be determined to carve out some kind of rhythm in my weeks that feels like I’ve got oxygen flowing, instead of gasping for air, trying to keep my head above water.
I’ve got my Ideal Mom / Good Christian Woman programming still ingrained in me in some ways, I suppose (referencing last week’s article): I “should” be able to tolerate whatever life throws at me and be able to pour from my continually empty cup, because Jesus is the one filling it (religious version). Or, secular version, moms are just “supposed” to be exhausted and burnt out, because #momlife, right?
Because women are expected to silently shoulder everyone’s burdens, be ever-available to help those who need it (yes, every counseling referral who calls me seeking help counts), and take joy in the constant outpouring of energy.
I don’t even believe this! But this patriarchy / Christian patriarchy bullshit is really hard to deprogram.
I sometimes still feel I am trying to figure out the “rules” for how to be a Good Person outside of evangelical / Christian tradition I was raised in. Is it okay to tend to my needs first? I mean... is it really okay? I thought being a Good Person meant self-sacrifice and believing that my needs are not really that important.
Sad Sally begs to differ. She knows that when Christine is not taking care of herself, Christine ceases to exist and Sad Sally appears – and as I already mentioned, Sad Sally has a lot of times when she doesn’t want to exist.
I don’t want to be in that place, and honestly, it really doesn’t serve anybody. Not my clients, when their therapist completely burns out on them. Not my loved ones, enduring my moodiness, constant irritability, and unhappiness. And certainly not myself.
So here I am, accepting my sensitive nervous system and also accepting that there are things I can do to help myself feel better, or just trusting the dark time will eventually end. And practicing actual self-care where I pay attention to the messages my mental health is screaming at me.
And on a positive note: I went through a couple of Sad Sally weeks recently after a couple of months of frenetic work pace (turns out it really was too much). But I’ve been feeling better this week. The baby finally cut his teeth (the fussing now makes sense!!) and can sit up on his own and he’s really adorable. And my darling daughter, almost 3, “read” Go Dog Go to herself ALL THE FREAKING WAY THROUGH and she’s amazing. She was a late talker so it’s awesome to see her blossom like this.
And for today, I don’t doubt that my life is worth living and there are so many things to hope for.
Do any of you have another side of you that’s “not yourself” who comes out when you’re feeling down? (I only named her “Sally” for this newsletter, but I’m actually finding the characterization* helpful!) Have you become aware of your stressors that push you outside your window of tolerance to feeling anxious or depressed? I’ll meet you in the comments if you want to process the good, hard, ugly, and hopeful together!
*To be clear, this is not Dissociative Identity Disorder, but you should check out this blog for some fascinating takes from someone with DID.
There's a lot of necessary stuff, balls to juggle and balls to drop, and sometimes it's all too much. And that's probably the bulk of it. But please remember that, assuming you don't want it, you may not have to do the intense, people-y event things. Those memories are still fun for your kids if they're done with someone else! Dad-time, grandpa-time, auntie-who-love that-stuff-and-cousin-time, neighbor-whose-kids-you-sometimes-feed time.
And giving the kids an idea that people, parents included, are allowed to have preferences and boundaries, is an incredibly valuable gift to them. It sends the message that they're allowed to do that too.
You sound like you might be a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), Christine (laughing as I offer the therapist a “diagnosis”). We have a higher level of sensitivity to both the outer and inner worlds and need a lot more quiet inner processing time to feel fully well. It’s not something that’s broken, just our personality, like extroverts need lots of people time to feel well; we are the opposite. Specifically about parenting, overwhelm happens to all parents, especially when the whining and crying starts. That’s when tag team parenting really helps, and I’m sure you guys do that for mutual survival. I hope you can accept yourself as the person you are with your particular needs, and continue to show yourself the same compassion you show clients and family. As you said, you can’t help others if you are depleted all the time. Your needs are valid and it’s OK to honor them and carve out whatever “me” time you can find or create each day. Maybe sharing those needs with your husband and building more of an external support system could also help—older ladies at church, for example, who might pop in for a bit of the joy of taking care of two cute kiddos while you go running or to yoga or meditation or whatever? Sorry for all the advice when I know you know all this, but maybe it helps to hear it from others: You are valid, your needs are valid and important, and it’s OK to try to meet them. Thanks for sharing so openly, and I hope you will get the help and support you need to make it through. And lastly, I know what you really need is this from other HSP parents who have been there and totally understand: 🤗❤️🙏 Please take good care of yourself.