F*ck mom guilt

Let's abolish it for crimes against motherhood

Here is example 537 of when I kicked myself to the curb with a mere thought. In a one hour span on a Wednesday morning last week, I snapped at all three of my kids. New record.

1. I yelled at my daughter for the chronic problem of leaving stuff in places where they don’t belong. I threatened to put said stuff, including food, on her pillow. She didn’t like it, I said I didn’t care, and she exited the car at school drop off with an angry look and a door slam.

2. I also yelled at my son who got upset that I wouldn’t let him bring the crumbliest snack into my freshly vacuumed car.

3. I lectured my nephew about being late to school, with a line about how, in the “real world” when you’re late multiple times to a job, you won’t be allowed back. FYI, teens actually LOVE when you talk about these real world examples. Try it and watch the dead look on their faces as proof.

Afterward, I sat at my kitchen counter pissed.

Then guilt let itself in. Not all I had done was “bad” but I felt guilt for making my kids feel anything other than content. Whether I’m wrong or right in my parenting, guilt comes in many situations, it’s the same emotion from when I spent more time away from the kids working full time, or when I take time for myself away from my family. Fill in the blanks to a million scenarios here.

“Working parents bring a certain amount of guilt to their relationship with their children.” – Judge Judy

Remorse and regret washed over me like a tidal wave. I was knocked down, useless for the rest of the day. I cried. I let a blanket of self-loathing cover every inch of my being, suffocating each pore of dignity I had left.

Dramatic, no?

It’s like guilt blindfolds me from reality, prevents me from mothering, trying my best. I’ve read practical advice on dealing with the guilt. Unfortunately, in my research, I do not see a magic pill to fix it. So instead of only reading about it, I took some of this advice and made it my own.

Get stoic

The Stoic Mom writer Meredith Alexander Kunz’s daughter said something that I needed to read, especially with how I interacted with my kids:

“Everything I’m saying now is going to become history as soon as it comes out of my mouth. I might even regret it immediately. But I have to move on, since I have no choice. I will just find a better way to say it next time.”

I want to meet this kid! She’s right, what’s been said and done is out there and I can’t take-backsies. Next time I feel the guilt, I plan to grab my journal and write. In addition to vomiting my emotions through the tip of my pencil, I’ll write how I can do it better next time. And if I didn’t do anything wrong but still feel the guilty feelings, I will remind myself that I am doing my best.

I write stuff down a lot, in various journals scattered around my home, car, purse.

Feel it, maybe bitch about it, definitely let it go (and burn it!)

I used to say that mom guilt serves no purpose. I even suggested we abolish it forever for obstruction of mothering. I’d share this frustration with my crucial confidant, my mom mentor, one of my best friends — my sister. We talk often about raising our kids; her sons are older, teenagers. Guess what? She has mom guilt. My mom, 78-years-old, also has guilt after all these years. She feels guilty for working so much while we were growing up. I guess this does not end with more years you accumulate as a mother.

In that case, abolishing it is wishful thinking. But so is the endeavor to try to shove it away without proper procedure.

When I hated myself for a good portion of that Wednesday, I remember focusing on burying the feeling. What if I let myself feel the guilt? Rather than swim against the current, I can try to sit there and look at it square in the eye, like the old psychological tool for clutching anxiety by its balls, called “name it to tame it.”

If I let the creeper in and acknowledge it next time, will it be easier to let go? For guilt episode #538 I will name it and see its way out.

I may try lighting it on fire while I’m at it. My friend Lola recently held a workshop and one of our exercises was to burn a sheet of paper, written with notes on what we want to let go (no surprise, mine were thoughts on self-loathing). I was in my office with a bowl and a pink lighter, holding a lined sheet of words sabotaging my mindset. I flicked the lighter on, watched the paper burn, and almost lit my hair on fire. It was cathartic.

Maybe I’ll take those earlier mentioned vomiting journal entries and torch them, too.

Frame it

I wrote a letter to myself so that when I’m drowning in this feeling, I can read something that pulls me back to the surface. I can remind myself that I’ve been here before and in so deep that I had to write myself a letter and frame the dang thing!

For those of you who couldn’t read my writing in the feature photo, here is the framed note, currently hung in my office.

Dear Steph,

You did your best. What you did or said is now in the past. Learn from it and you will do better next time. Feel the guilt, it’s OK. Then take that feeling, crumple it into a ball and torch that shit up.

hugs and kisses,

Steph

Unpacking a few things I love: