Burnout in Motherhood
Once we decided our family was complete it hit me: all I’d been planning for my entire life was done. I was a wife and mother: the pinnacle experience of womanhood (or so I’d been told). I believed that this was my purpose, but something was amiss. Why wasn’t I fulfilled? Why was I yearning for more? Stress had been quietly eroding this glorified role for years. Keeping up with my own idealization of motherhood left me depleted.
When we decided to have our third child, I bypassed my inner Knowing that told me to wait, to give my body more time to recover, and got pregnant anyway. Cue the worst pregnancy and most painful year of my life. Every inch of my body was covered in hives (now, four years later, I still get them occasionally). Suffering from a chronic illness woke me up to my own limitations. I could see the impact of stress on my body - it flared up in itching, red welts.
As a stay-at-home mom with three kids, burnout quickly took over. In the throes of a newborn and toddlers, plus suffering with a chronic illness, my capacity to dream grew dim. My purpose felt mundane and insignificant after loading the dishwasher for the third time that day, accepting that my house would never be clean again. My world got smaller with each toy I picked up. I felt all of my passions had fizzled, or been forgotten. Every bit of my energy was poured into three little humans’ survival, care, and routine while I was left empty. Even with continual support and help from my husband, burnout set in like dried cement.
Longterm survival mode brought discontentment and looming sadness. The parts of my heart once bursting with zest and creativity, had gone quiet. I had to take Motherhood off of my glorified pedestal. After all, if it was supposed to bring me complete happiness, why was I feeling angry and unfulfilled? It felt wrong and selfish to say that I wanted more for my life than Motherhood - but who told me that? Why did I still believe it? I stopped telling myself how I “should” feel, and accepted what was real for me. I stopped resisting my own experience and moved forward with a plan of self care.
I had a deep-dive conversation with my husband about my pain and my needs. He was fully supportive of doing whatever we had to do. I reached out to my counselor, a medical practitioner, several friends for moral support, and started taking time for myself daily. I started writing, dreaming, creating, slowing down, saying “no” a lot. My body became my confidant. I listened when She told me to rest, create, work, and play. There wasn’t an overnight fix, but I slowly started coming out of the darkness. Now, I am thriving in relationships, health, and creative pursuits.
Discontentment used to be a negative word. Religion had taught me that to feel it meant I wasn’t grateful or holy enough. Now, it speaks to me. I allow it to illuminate a part of my imagination that’s gone dark, showing me where I need to dream again, where I’ve been ignoring my own needs, and what changes I need to make to have a more fulfilling life.
Motherhood was my idol, and it didn’t help me. I started a personal revolution. An identity revolution. An expectation revolution. If you’re experiencing burnout in motherhood, let your people know where you are, that something needs to change, and that you will be getting help. Don’t ask. Name your needs out loud. It’s your inherent right to have them met. Get curious about your feelings. Don’t judge them. Don’t resist them. Find out where they came from, and decide for yourself if the belief behind them is true or not. Remember who you are again, outside of “Mom.” What lights you up? What brings you pleasure? What delights your heart? These are questions worth asking. There is no timeline for healing. Contrary to popular opinion: you have time. So take it. You are a worthy pursuit.