Wow, what a morning we’ve had. It’s not even 10am and I’m feeling all sorts of rubbish. Not physically, but emotionally and mentally.
You see, my sweet new baby girl likes to wake up at about 3am every morning and not go back to sleep for a while. It’s been happening for a couple of weeks now and it usually takes about half an hour or so for her to get sleepy again and go back to sleep. Well last night she was restless and pretty cranky til 6. Yippee.
My other two big girls came in to see me and baby just after 6 and I decided to admit defeat and get up to start the day. Big mistake. I should have stayed in bed. Til at least 9 or so maybe…
Obviously being Friday a sleep in isn’t possible because my two eldest need to go to school, and today I really NEEDED them to go so I could take control of the house again.
Oh, did I mention that my husband is away this week?
So up I got, trying to hold it together. Breakfast was interesting…
Little Miss 2 vomited. She’s totally fine now, but in the middle of Miss 7 and Mr 4 making their own breakfast and somehow forgetting how to use the toaster, needing me to open the peanut butter, the expensive glass honey jar smashed on the floor and baby girl screaming in my ear for goodness knows what, I snapped.
And now, I feel like rubbish. I don’t really care that I’m tired. I care that my kids probably think I’m a monster. And it makes me cringe to think they are going to remember crazy, cranky mummy for the rest of their lives.
Mummy-guilt is the worst. It can eat you up. It can cause all sorts of shame. And shame makes us feel like we are not worthy of love. Brené Brown, in her book The Gifts of Imperfection defines shame as something that “keeps worthiness away by convincing us that owning our stories will lead to people thinking less of us. Shame is all about fear.”
I’ve been thinking on this for a week or so now. We tend to cover up our shame. Sweep it under the carpet for no-one else to see. But it’s there. And it grows. It makes you feel worse and definitely completely unworthy of anything good. I am useless. I am a horrible mum. I can’t handle motherhood. What will people think of me?
But what if, as Brené suggests, we OWN our stories? To embrace your vulnerabilities and let it be. Talk it out with someone. Say, “I feel shame about my behaviour this morning but it doesn’t define me.” “I am still a good mum, and exactly the mum that these kids need”.
Owning our stories means being okay with the fact that we are not perfect. Who on earth wants to be perfect anyway? That’s a massive undertaking and is exhausting to maintain.
Why not be vulnerable? Why not be real?
With social media being basically a lifestyle, and for some people an addiction even, I have for years abhorred the fact that it is a medium for people to show the best of everything, but not so much the real stuff. I mean, why post a horrible picture when you can post a filtered one right? I’m guilty of that too. But lets be more real with what we post on social media.
Being real is exactly why I started this blog. I got sick of the pressure to be perfect all of the time. I’m not going to pretend that it wasn’t my own fault for feeling that way, but the ‘perfection’ that people like to portray doesn’t help.
So I want to encourage you all to be real. Be vulnerable. Ask for help if you need it (I’m still working on that one). Talk about your failures.
And remember, you’re flipping awesome. Just as you are.
The picture I’ve chosen for this post is a shocker in my opinion, but that’s why I posted it. I was super tired. My hair is a mess. I’m VERY conscious and yes, ashamed, of the amount of weight I’ve put on! The photo is blurry. But I have to laugh when I see it because literally a second after I took the photo, my sweet baby girl vomited up a storm all over me, and herself.