Tired/Sad/Dysregulated Moms

I see you

Sometimes I treat the random things that show up on my Instagram feed like a divination tool. And yes, I know it’s just the algorithm. The algorithm has the data to know I will watch woo woo, astrology, pro wrestling, toddlers, mom stuff, and for some reason, Euphoria hot takes. So when I see the perfect thing at the perfect time, it can feel like some sort of sign, especially on those days that I’m desperate for one, when I’m asking for one.

The other day, I saw a post from an account I don’t follow that said:

If Becoming a Mother Without Your Own Mother Has Been Hard, Science Explains Why: Research across thousands of women has now measured what that absence means for postpartum health.

I’ll save you from the sixteen slides of text, but basically, “A 2023 meta-analysis of 11 studies across 3,391 women found a significant link between grandparental support and postpartum mental health. The effect was strongest when the support came from the mother’s own mother, more so than from a partner, a friend, or a paternal grandmother.”

Feeling seen is one of my favorite feelings to feel as a human, and that feeling has been the most longed for feeling I’ve had ever since becoming a mom. Especially after Patty, the woman who felt like a mom to me and the person who saw me more than anyone, died. So when I saw this post—during a time when my depression was bad, my anxiety was high, I wasn’t sleeping, I was overstimulated, overwhelmed, dysregulated, depleted, in survival mode, and still grieving Patty—it felt validating to see it. I needed to see it.

Yep, I’ve been having a hard time. I feel ashamed of sharing that, because I feel like people would think that I should be doing better by now. Maybe I think I should be doing better by now. What even is wrong with me, I imagine people thinking. Shouldn’t I be over Patty’s death by now? Shouldn’t being a mom be easier by now? People have it worse than me. There are terrible things happening in the world. It shouldn’t feel this bad.

They say a woman’s brain is different in postpartum for three years (though someone recently told me it’s actually seven—I’m too tired to verify this right now) so there’s that, but could it also be perimenopause? Probably. I also experienced a huge crash after the exhilarating thrill of making my own TV pilot, which I realized afterwards was a great distraction from the depression to begin with. And during this insane experience of an 18-month-old son (IYKYK), I’ve realized that my nervous system still remains completely dependent on how my son is doing. I am an anxious mess around his sleep, his naps, his eating, his everything. I logically know everything is ok. But my body doesn’t seem to be able to know that. And if you’ve been following my journey on here, you know I’ve struggled with this for awhile, I’ve been on and off meds, and at some point I kinda just accepted my new baseline.

But anyway, seeing that post was helpful to know that perhaps my grief over Patty has affected me even more than I thought. Perhaps there’s even a different type of grief over my mom, too. Perhaps none of this is just me.

There are so many ways that it’s recently felt harder—the meltdowns and big feelings that he doesn’t have the brain to regulate, his frustration from not being able to communicate just yet, the sleep regression from all the growing he’s doing, the teething, getting sick, peak separation anxiety, the now-picky eating and inconsistent appetite, his difficulty with transitions, the constant vigilance needed as he’s running and climbing and jumping and testing boundaries. I do find some things “easier” (I feel a need to put that in quotes for some reason) in the sense that I’m more experienced, and I’m much more confident. And I’m so strong. My resilience has developed to levels I never even thought were possible. The day could be going terribly, life could be the hardest it’s ever felt, my cup could be completely empty, and I’m going to show up anyway, because I have to.

Today is Mother’s Day and it used to be the most triggering day of the year for me. My core wound of wanting to be seen by my mother has shaped my entire life, my relationships, and my self-worth, and I am always working on my healing. But it was wild how that trigger softened after becoming a mom—mom stuff no longer activated me, because I was now the mom. Mother’s Day became about something else.

And as time passes and I experience more, I understand my mother more. She was absolutely exceptional at being a mom. I truly can’t believe she immigrated to a new country, had three kids, worked full-time, was sick or in pain all the time, and did SO much for me, flawlessly. Now when I think of all the wounds she caused from the emotional parts, I understand that she simply couldn’t, with what she had herself. It really wasn’t her fault. Now I recall all the times she said she was tired, and I understand, I understand so deeply. I see her as a mother, from the viewpoint of a mother, and I simply see her.

I have recently started going to a mom’s therapy group, and I’m hoping that helps me. I’ve realized that losing Patty was beyond just losing a mother figure and best friend—I have been more isolated than ever. It’s bad. I’ve surrounded myself with barely anyone. No parent should be so isolated during the first years of having a child. No person should be so isolated in life, ever. I’m grateful to this experience for guiding me toward a better, more healthy way, pushing me to get out of my comfort zone and open myself up. It’s my priority now, and writing this is another way of me pursuing that.

Meanwhile, today I bow down to all the good moms out there. You do so much and you deserve to be seen and appreciated and honored. I know it so often feels like you’re not. But I see you. Moms see you. Whatever struggles you are going through right now, you’re not alone. Thank you to all the mothers who have helped me feel seen. I love a “me too” and “that’s normal” forever. And I’m so glad you would understand how hard it is to do literally anything and how hard it is to write a dumb Substack. How hard it was to finish this. How hard it was to share it.

Happy Mother’s Day.