A reader sent me this question:
How do you get on Facebook and not feel insecure when you see pictures of classmates who now have bigger houses/better jobs/more children/more money, etc.?
Great question, and a problem that I’m sure many of us struggle with. First, some data:
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A few days ago, I stumbled across a New York Times article from last year called The Birth of a Mother. The piece discusses matrescence — the transition into motherhood — and some of the common emotional challenges experienced by new mothers. I could relate to much of what was in the article, particularly the part about ambivalence.
In my experience, few new mothers talk about these things openly. Our society tends to focus far more on the baby than the mother, and once birth has occurred, we expect mothers (and fathers) to be themselves again in no time. Many women internalize these unrealistic expectations, and they hide the disappointment they inevitably feel because they believe they are supposed to be feeling pure joy.
Every now and then, I have a recurring dream that many others have experienced as well. I’m in a classroom, and it’s the end of the semester. I had enrolled in this class but had forgotten about it. I haven’t been there in weeks. I haven’t done any of the reading. I know none of the material. It’s almost time for the final exam, and I’m panicking. I’m completely unprepared, and I’m going to fail.
When this dream appears, it’s an obvious sign that I’m feeling overwhelmed. I usually try to take it as a cue to reassess my priorities, remove a thing or two from my schedule, and maybe set aside some time to meditate, exercise, or otherwise relax and regroup.
“People at war with themselves will always cause collateral damage in the lives of those around them.”
― John Mark Green
I’m convinced that a significant amount of the stress in my life comes from assuming I know what other people are thinking. Case in point: after being away on vacation, my yard was a mess this week. The grass was overgrown and there were weeds everywhere. It finally got mowed Saturday afternoon, but every time I saw it this week, I felt anxious and guilty. I feel this way every time the yard becomes overgrown, and it has nothing to do with the grass. If I lived on some remote parcel of land far from any other houses, I wouldn’t give it a second thought. I care because I don’t want my neighbors to think poorly of me. I assume that they are judging me every time they drive by my house or look out their windows.