Welcome back to Good Life, a newsletter about navigating our modern culture and staying sane in the process. This week, we discuss mom guilt and how it almost took me down.
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The Opposite Would Have Killed Me
This week has been an emotional rollercoaster both professionally and personally. Every day came with its own set of surprises, and none of them felt positive in any way. I’ve never been good with change, and there’s been enough of it this week to fill my plate.
So, of course, the added stress sent me into an all-too-familiar state of overanalyzing and planning. I wouldn’t say that I need to control everything to feel “in control.” But at the very least, I need to see a clear path ahead of me, not to feel like everything is devolving into chaos.
Unfortunately, for everyone around me this week, that’s not how life works. And when the chaos comes, so does my intense focus on making sure that everything else in our lives is in order. That means my girls and my husband usually get the brunt of it.
My husband, trying to lift our spirits, took us out to dinner during the week. This is something we try to avoid because we prefer eating at home. It gives us a more relaxed atmosphere, and it’s easier for us to break down the day with everyone. Because, as all parents know, the dinner table is the best place to hear about the comings and goings of everyone at school.
In passing, our oldest daughter mentioned that one of her friends had told her about something she was doing that she definitely shouldn’t be. I was only half paying attention because my mind was so full of all the other stressors that I almost missed it altogether. I mean, I was looking right at her as she was talking, but in reality, I was so far away in my mind that I might as well have not even been there.
But thankfully, I did. Even though it was a delayed reaction, I heard every word she said, and when I finally realized that her innocently telling me about their conversation was going to need my full attention, that intense focus I mentioned earlier went into overdrive.
Immediately, I began mothering her through the situation, and she got upset. So here we are at dinner, and we have me activated, our oldest daughter emotional, and the rest of the family sitting through what felt like the wheels falling off the bus.
All of a sudden, the world felt like it was spinning out of control. This is the last thing that I wanted for us that night. We had just been to confession, and we were supposed to be having a midweek break from the insanity going on. I felt completely responsible for it all.
Several things were going through my head. What would have happened if I hadn’t caught the conversation and never corrected her? Would this have led to her accepting this type of behavior or excusing it for herself later on? Why didn’t I wait until I got home to talk to her and just let everyone have a nice dinner? Why do I always have to be on top of everything all of the time? Couldn’t I have just let this one slide?
When people talk about mom guilt, this is what it really looks like in real time. I knew in my heart I had done the right thing and said the right thing, but the result left everyone with upset stomachs. My husband and I barely spoke that night before bed. I slept horribly. I woke up not even wanting to see anyone because even though I knew I did the right thing, I felt like the culprit of everyone’s heartache.
Our natural desire as mothers is to bring love and affection into our homes. And this felt like the opposite of that.
The girls went to school, and my husband went to work. My house had never felt more empty or lonely. Waiting to pick the girls up from school felt like years. I needed to grab them and hold them close. Tell them how much I love them and explain that everything I do, even when I am correcting them, is out of my intense love for them. But I was also worried about how everyone would be when I picked them up. Are they all going to be silent? Are they going to wish their father was the one to pick them up from school? Do they even want to see me?
If I am being honest with myself, my biggest fear was how this conversation had affected my relationship with my teenage daughter. We have something special. Everyone always warned me that when she became a teenager she would eventually hate me.
“All teenage girls hate their mothers. Just be prepared because it’s inevitable,” they’d say laughingly.
I hated their negativity. I have worked so hard throughout her life to avoid this situation. I am her mother and authority figure. And our relationship is one where she trusts me to do what is right by her and her sisters in every situation. She can talk to me about anything. It would kill me if this one conversation just changed all of that.
As I travel through the car line at school, I have to stop at the elementary school first. The little girls jump into the car one by one, all of them smiling. They gave me little valentines that they made in art class. Each one tells me how much they love me and why they chose the colors they did, because each one reminded them of me.
“This is going to be ok,” I think to myself. “I just need to get to the high school now.”
I spot our daughter laughing with her friends, and we make eye contact. She smiles and waves at me. Instantly, all of the fear and worry that had built up inside me all day long melted away. She hugs her friends, says her goodbyes, and jumps into the front seat.
My plan was not to mention last night at all. I wanted to avoid the conversation altogether. However, just as we were about to get onto the highway back home, she thanked me. She said that after thinking about it in bed last night, she knew that I was right. She didn’t want to hear it, and her emotion was just an outward expression of her inner voice telling her that I was right.
I had to hold back tears. It was one of those moments as a mother when you sit back, so relieved that crying feels like the only way to release the rest of the emotional buildup. She didn’t know how badly I needed her to say that, and I wasn’t going to ask for it just to end my own worries.
But she gave me what my heart needed. Our relationship was steady. All the work over the years was not in vain. The house is slowly coming back together again. The chaos is dissipating.
I love being a mother. It’s not always an easy job for sure. I have to balance so much. But even in my lowest moments, I am reminded that what I do has purpose.
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