“Mom, can you hold this?”
I carry everything. On a good day, I’m lugging around one kid’s coat, one husband’s wallet and cellphone, plus my own coat, cellphone, wallet, and handbag. Lately, my outsides are feeling just as heavy as my insides. Not only do I feel responsible for carrying all my family’s gear, but I also feel pressure to carry their emotional load too. After years of the heavy lifting, I’m collapsing under the weight of it all. Why can’t I just stop?
My job description is all about the carrying.
I carried my son in my belly. Then after he was born, I carried him in my arms and carried his diaper bag on my shoulder. Now I carry coats, toys, phones, wallets, and any emotional baggage that’s weighing my family down. Some self-reflection has revealed I’m like an ant. I can carry up to 5,000 times my own body weight. For those not good in math — that’s a lot.
As the nurturing mother-figure in our household, I help my 7-year-old son problem solve feelings all day long.
Don’t misunderstand. I knew this would be a big part of motherhood, and I love working with him to figure out why he feels frustrated when his Legos don’t latch or his friend didn’t meet his expectations. But it doesn’t stop there because I also help out my not-so-7-year-old husband navigate his own sea of work, friendship, or sports team disappointments. When my husband needs a sounding board, that can actually provide some sound advice, I’m so there. I’m on call all day, every day, and even ready to go on holidays.
What gets me down, is that while I’m doing all this helping, listening, and hauling, when it’s added to my list of other expected duties like personal chef, schedule director, timekeeper, and my own work, I’m left holding all the bags.
Whether it’s an internal pressure I’m putting on myself or an external one society has placed on me, I can’t shake this feeling of deep obligation that I’m supposed to be of constant service. It moves me forward without a break.
At the end of the day, I feel stuffed full about to pop.
The anticipation of this bursting leaves me on edge and frustrated. My work may be invisible, but I’m still weighed down underneath it. I might be able to carry 5,000 times my weight, but should I?
I don’t want to stop modeling support for my little guy, but I need to find a balance.
So I’m going to take some baby steps back so my guys can begin tending to their own emotional well-being. I’m also going to talk about how I feel. This will give us a chance to connect more equally and give me some much-needed space to set down some heavy stuff I’ve been carrying.
So when I hear my son say, “Can I help you carry that?" I know I’m on the right track.
