There is a song titled “Be Kind to Yourself” by Andrew Peterson. He wrote it for his then teenaged daughter who was in the middle of that awkward stage of life where everything about oneself feels wrong: where you are your own worst enemy. There is a little part of me that I guess held on to that awkward stage of life because I am (chronologically at least) an adult, and I struggle when I look inside myself or in a mirror to find anything worth much.
I’m not especially proud of the bit of me that cannot seem to shake the feelings of inadequacy that have plagued me most of my life. Therapy, good friends, and the like, help; but there are still days when I feel as if I am absolutely the worst.
Today, for example: My kids are old enough that though I make sure they are awake on time they are primarily responsible for getting themselves ready for school and out the door on time. I am there for moral support and help finding lost shoes, but mostly it is on them. I am recovering from a bout of COVID that has had me exhausted long after the other symptoms have abated. So, I phoned in my duties this morning. I woke everyone up and retreated back to bed for rest.
This should not have been a problem, but it was. Two of my girls informed my son (who is the taxi driver to school) that my youngest was staying home today, and they got halfway to school before the youngest came into my room crying she got left at home. We are down a vehicle due to a mechanical issue, I didn’t have a vehicle to take her, and my husband was already at work. S,o I had to call my son back to pick her up causing everyone to be quite late to school.
I spent the rest of the morning berating myself over how irresponsible I was. I vented to some friends and they were quick to point out it was fair to assume the kids would do what they needed to do since they had consistently been doing so for a while now. I volleyed back that I am the mom and, therefore I, am the worst. They were not amused.
And this is just one example of how I feel I fall short as a parent. My kids were adopted. I feel like they should get a five-star, always-on, happy mom and I am failing them so hard. But, if I take a step back and evaluate from an outsider’s perspective it isn’t as bad as I tend to tell myself it is.
My kids are loved. They are educated and have easy access to what they need to be successful. We have a home and a yard to play in. They have toys, games, electronics, and pets. And they have my husband, myself, and each other. And I do try to make sure I show them my truest feelings without overwhelming them. So, I’m not really doing as badly as it can seem to me during a self-deprecating spiral.
I was reminded by friends to interrupt the thoughts that start to intrude with truth. It is unfortunate still that I have yet to extend the grace I give to others to my own self. I am trying nonetheless.
I wonder if many of us feel this way because of internalized ableism. There seems to be an inherent belief held by many that if someone isn’t actively producing something, they are a drain on society and, therefore, a waste. It calls into question what that means about every relationship I have if all I see them as are people producing a product. Of course, I don’t see people that way. Even people who, by rights, are producing a product, they are so much more than that. Their value as a person doesn’t diminish if they stop being able to produce. My kid doesn’t stop being my kid because she is failing in math. That’s absurd. Her value is in no way changed if she has the stomach flu and throws up on the floor. I’d want to arrest anyone that implied otherwise.
I still find I accuse myself of laziness, not fatigue or sickness, when I have to slow down. It’s galling to know on paper that I have a reason to need rest but seem to be unable to take that rest without feeling guilty.
My sweet husband gently called me out yesterday when I was self-flagellating about not getting laundry done. “If I’m sick,” he said, “what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to rest.” I said, a bit confused.
“Okay and if I have to sleep all day and you’re responsible for everything to do with the kids and every meal and chore so I can get that rest, or you have to let things slide because I’m not available to help, are you mad at me?”
“Of course not. That’d be stupid. If you’re sick you need to take care of yourself.”
“Uh-huh. So if you are sick, and need to rest, should I be mad at you?”
“N-no, I guess not.”
“Okay then, if none of us are mad at you, why should you be mad at yourself? Why do you have a double standard when it comes to people being sick?”
Frankly, I feel like he was playing dirty. I was groggy and my ability to process information quickly and pop out my normal quippy responses was inhibited. But, he had a point. I am much more willing to allow others to take what they need than to let myself.
I suspect I am far from being the only person who struggles with this phenomenon. So, I suggest that perhaps we make it a point to remember: “Be kind to yourself. You’ve got to learn to love, learn to love, learn to love your enemies too.”
