I won't bore you with the joy in my motherhood journey. I'm sharing how I lost my shit and got it together again. I have a clear pre-and post-survival mode perspective to my motherhood journey that was interrupted by an existential crisis on a hiking trail where I probably met my spirit animal.

The Perfectionist Fails. 

As a perfectionist, I wouldn't say I was excelling. I functioned well enough off little sleep as a full time working mom. The little time or energy I had conserved was utilized for a shower, laundry, cooking, cleaning, maintaining relationships with my husband, friends, or extended family. I was at the bottom of my to-do list. Something was always a disaster and someone was always disappointed. 

My Dirty Little Secret:

My mental state depended entirely on the health of my household. I told myself, "You are a hot mess" like a dirty little secret playing like a broken record. When we were in good health. I'd feel guilty for not doing more.  Poor health meant we lined up in an assembly line waiting for the waves of illness to pass through. Parents can't complain about this. We are supposed to be grateful our children are building their immunity. I silently suffered, feeling ashamed I couldn't handle this more gracefully. Then, I would play my Oscar worthy sob story.

My sob story:

On my dark days, I'd play my sob story on repeat. Maybe it was more of a telenovela.  No stranger to hardship, I overcame adversity like a knight in shining armor in my youth. Until "mom struggle" knocked me off my horse. From challenges to conceive, the heartache of a miscarriage, a traumatic childbirth experience, my son's life saving surgery, COVID separating my family after my daughter's birth. It helped me justify why I was a disaster, a casualty, a victim of life being unfair.

Rock Bottom:

I hit rock bottom just after my daughter's first birthday. She had a runny nose one morning and acute respiratory failure that afternoon. We spent a week in the pediatric ICU watching every monitor and beep of the machines hooked up to her as she fought to breathe on her own again. There was no time to fall apart. 

Survival Mode:

She recovered and we were home. I was clearly trapped in “survival mode” with some PTSD.  I looked high functioning. In reality I felt like a wounded soldier left for dead and no one was coming to save me. I felt like no one could save me.

Existential crisis meets spirit animal?

A few days post-hospital, my husband and I went on a hike to clear our heads. I broke down crying and pretty much had an existential crisis which included a unique encounter with a wounded animal. Perhaps my spirit animal. (More on that later). However, something shifted in my perspective that day. Old me was over. I decided to let everything go. The dead weight - just heavy armor that slowed me down.  With newfound strength, I was going to rescue myself.

Self-Care Fluff:

I learned there was a lot of garbage in the self-help section that was not helpful and honestly out of touch to a busy mom lifestyle. Companies and modern marketing have literally ruined our concept of self-care as health care. 

A Year of Change:

I spent the next year and a half tending to my new identity, pulling weeds and planting seeds. I experimented with the science of behavioral change, focusing on each pillar of self-care as healthcare through the lens of busy mom life. I realized I was never a hot mess. I had a broken system. I tweaked my environment, broke vicious habit loops, killed perfectionism, had tough conversations and stopped talking to myself like an asshole.

New You, Mama

As I took action, everything improved. I became a "new" me.

I'm not special. Mom's everywhere deal with hard stuff. I can't take away your hard, but I can celebrate your strength and resilience. If you are trying to get off the struggle bus, I welcome you to join our community that normalizes self-care without shame, blame or guilt and explore the information and tools I share here. Thank you for letting me be a pit stop on your motherhood journey.