Anxiety as a Mother Is All Consuming

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in a pool of worries. 

The anxiety of so much to do all the time. The mental load of motherhood looming over my shoulders at every turn.

My head bobs beneath the waves. 

The bottle prep, the getting everyone dressed, bathed, remembering medicines, getting the meals ready that they’ll actually eat—all rely on me. And it sits on a big list in my brain that I’m constantly adding to at all hours of the night. 

Then I am sinking in the worry, legs and arms struggling to bring me back to the surface. 

I'm doing the magical work behind the scenes, so the foundation doesn't topple over. So the baby doesn't cry for her bottle, and it's not there. So the toddler has her favorite stuffy to sleep with ready at bedtime, so there's no meltdown. 

Sometimes I yell and wave my arms.

I yell because I can’t take the overwhelm and bad behavior on top of all the things that need to get done. It’s a lot.  

My hair rises upwards as  I come up for breath.

For a moment, I feel at peace. There's a calm.  

And then, with barely a splash, I'm under again. 

My five-year-old screams because she had a nightmare. Then comes the anxiety that keeps me up late at night, worrying, and asking my partner, “Do you think she’s worried about camp, and that's why she had a nightmare?"

This is anxiety as a mother. 

Sometimes bobbing. 

Sometimes drowning.

But when I fall beneath the waves, I expect to come up, and I do. Because I’m a fighter. And my kids help tow me back to life.