The Complexity of Overwhelm

It’s 8:15am and we head off for a bike ride, ‘this will be good’ I think, ‘sun, fresh air, physical activity’.

Like you, we’ve had so much sickness in our house – it’s a relief to get outside.

My youngest has a hard time in the heat, with sore legs and I ride over a huge prickle, bursting my tyre.

Sensing some frustration I do my best to regulate – deep breaths, notice the wildflowers and the breeze – this didn’t go as planned, but my eldest is having a fab time, the sun feels good. Bring in some compassion for my daughter, and myself.

8:45am

As we approach home I think ‘it’s still early – we’ll head out the back. I’ll do a quick workout while the kids play’.

“I’m hungry, can we have some food?” they ask, pulling blueberry muffins from the fridge. Yes they can, this will buy me some time while I get moving on cutting some apple and filling water bottles.

Then my daughter is behind me with a party horn/whistle thing. She’s not 100%. I think of all of the germs she’s about to spread around the house, “I’m sorry sweetheart, we can’t play with that right now”. (In hindsight, I could have directed this play to outside, but already feeling a little overwhelmed my rational brain was not in control).

As I take it from her she lets me know how sad she is with my choice. She runs to the drawer, trying hard to get in. *lid flips* I throw the Tupperware I’m holding into the sink, my head is in the clouds and I’m frustrated. A glare at her, and storm over to the drawer.

I notice what’s happening in my body, and my response. I close my eyes, take a deep breath. I remind myself I am safe, emotions are safe; she doesn’t have to be happy with my decision.

I’m trying so hard to be with her, hear her sadness. I’m sitting against the drawer – comforting her, but blocking access to the drawer. She’s sad and then angry. For a small person, she’s got a loud voice.

I see crumbs all over the floor, ‘from the muffins’ I think, ‘I should of told them to eat at the table, I need to sweep the floor’.

Meanwhile I hear my son, “hey Google, play skeleton dance!” and suddently the song is blaring from 1 metre away.

A fly lands on my knee.

My top has that damp smell, ‘I must of left it in the washing machine for too long’.

My daughter starts opening other kitchen cupboards, I can’t help but notice how disorganised the Tupperware cupboard looks ‘story of my life’ I think.

You’ll notice what’s happening here, my thoughts are compounding, spiralling. I’m seeing evidence of all of my ‘failures’.

My lid is flipped again, but I’ve bitten my tongue.

‘All I want to do is a work out’.

‘There’s too much noise’.

‘I just need some space’.

Although I’m annoyed that my eldest has turned on Google (more screen time), I recognise that he is safe right now, and doesn’t need me.

I pick my daughter up and move to a different room, less noise, less mess, less light. I practice some self compassion, I’m finding this moment really hard – for SO many reasons.

She’s stopped yelling, she’s being comforted.

We’re able to co-regulate. I apologised for acting scary earlier.

It’s 9:35am.

We have the snack I was in the middle of preparing, a drink of water, Google turns off and we sit down for some Lego together. (Lots of tending to the sensory system here!).

This is when I start to reflect…

There is so much contributing to feeling overwhelmed.

The sensory input – the noise, the mess, kids on me (also my need for movement).

The thoughts – consumed by the perfect mother myth, the should, the shark music influencing me to believe something safe is unsafe.

The competing demands and mental load. The lack of support (my husband is on his 26th day of shift work, I live far from family).

I share because yes I am an OT, supporting mothers WITH this and I am human working on this too.

I share because overwhelm is so complex; it’s personal, environmental and occupational.

I did all the things in my toolkit – sensory strategies, mindfulness and self compassion to regulate my nervous system. I called on my knowledge and understanding of secure attachment and parenting. The truth is, I’m still mothers alone today and the space I need is not accessible in the way I expected it would be.

So instead, I’m changing the demands to meet my needs (whilst noting to investigate after school hours at creche). The TVs going on, I’m going to get some deep sensory input doing a workout and I’m going to cook a delicious lunch while listening to a podcast. This is one of my stability strategies. The kids will be thrilled for some time on the couch, especially after a big morning. We’ll head out again this afternoon.

It’s not ‘ideal’, but it’s workable for us all today.

When we can reflect and acknowledge what is contributing to overwhelm in motherhood it is validating.

It makes total sense that we flip our lid from time to time.

Previously, this story would have spiralled for me all day, it would have been accompanied by guilt. The noise inside my head, louder than the noise outside.

My flipping of my lid louder and mean.

The thing is, although just reading this feels overwhelming - it was 2hrs of my day.

Having done a lot of inner work (and outer work!) I can reflect with compassion, recognise the demands, hear my shark music, tune in to my physiological stress response and can seperate this from the perfect mother myth.

And I can comfortably choose security, repair and workability.

I’m still doing the work, and I get to work alongside mothers doing the work. If you want to know more contact me.