Sometimes parenting can be the loneliest existence.
You wouldn’t think so what with the constant activity that comes with having children. But when the chaos dies down and you have a moment to breathe, you look around and realize you’re standing on the edge of an abyss, some dark place you’ve conjured up in your mind. And you’re alone. It dawns on you that you’ve been spending so much time tending to your kids, maintaining your household, running endless errands, trying to stay on top of your job (the one outside your familial cocoon), and all the other mind-numbing chores that pop up daily that you haven’t touched base with a human other than your spouse for weeks. And by “touch base” I mean emotionally connect, not the required schmoozing a professional job may entail.
That was me this week.
One day out of the blue I stopped moving and looked up, and this sense of despair came over me. I felt so alone, so fully and completely alone. I’ve been on this sad version of autopilot for weeks, plugging away at the monotony, not thinking outside the box of my parenting “to-do” list. It’s so easy to lose track of time in those moments. The days fly by in a blur and family and friends become somewhat of an afterthought, although not intentionally.
But then the spell will break and after begrudgingly admitting the extent of your loneliness, this overwhelming urge for companionship takes hold and the only thing you want in the world is to reach out for affection, reassurance, solidarity. But you can’t. Because in your warped mind you fear your loved ones will reject, misunderstand, or even judge you. After all, you’ve neglected everyone for so long now that they couldn’t possibly want to hear from you, let alone sympathize, right? Not to mention the fact that it’s hard enough putting yourself out there as a human being, as a woman, let alone as a momma acting as if being a momma isn’t the single most rewarding existence in the world. It sure as hell can be, but many times it’s not. That’s just reality—or maybe it’s just my reality.
I often wonder if other parents feel this way. Like a hamster on a wheel, just going through the motions day in and day out. And if they do, why don’t they ever talk about it? Are the subjects of loneliness and unhappiness in parenting so taboo that everyone must keep them all hush, hush? Is there nowhere to turn? Aren’t we all in the same on-the-verge-of-capsizing boat? If so, then why are we afraid to put ourselves out there and admit we’re lost in a sea of worries, anxieties, fears, despair?
After a few days of these thoughts, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and broach the subject with my friend, someone who always gets it, who always gets me. We got “talking” about the overwhelmingness of life and I asked her if the constant busyness, the constant chaos makes her lonely. She responded with this gem (hopefully she won’t mind me quoting her, LOL): “Yes I do. Because the truth is no one fully understands your specific circumstance, so it’s very lonely.”
Oh man, I can’t tell you how happy and relieved I was to hear her say that. Because she is so, so right. She couldn’t be any righter, in fact. We mommas—and daddies, for that matter—are all in the same boat (yes, I’m going to continue with my cheesy boat analogy), rowing against the same currents, and yet we’re all in different places, scattered across an ocean of circumstances that are unique to each of us and our families. And that unfortunately makes it hard to reach out because we’re afraid others won’t understand and will judge us as a result of that misunderstanding. When you think of it in those terms, though, that’s the thing, the life-saving solidarity that we all crave. I don’t think I’m being overly presumptuous in saying that.
We are all looking for someone—anyone—who’s like us, who understands and appreciates the hardships and challenges we are living every day, even if that person’s circumstances differ from ours. Maybe you’re a stay-at-home with no village. Or maybe you have a village but it’s impossible to keep track of who’s who and what’s what. Maybe you’re a working parent with one foot at the office and the other at home. Maybe your spouse works long hours and you’re left to handle the rest. Maybe you’re a single parent, juggling home and work all on your own. Maybe you have a sick child. Maybe you’re a widow. The situations are endless.
And yet, the circumstances don’t matter. Because when you finally get up the courage to put yourself out there, you discover that you’re not alone. There are other parents out there who feel just as stressed, just as lonely, just as afraid. They just happen to be on a different road. And maybe they just don’t like to broadcast their insecurities like some of us. 😊 In the end, though, we’re all heading toward the same destination. And when we get there, I hope we’ll all band together and throw a damn big party in celebration of our unique journeys and the fact that we made it, probably not unscathed, but not broken either.
That’s the life raft I’m going to hold onto, and I hope you will too.
Oh, and one more thing. I may not have any answers, but I’ll tell you what I do have. I have an arm to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, and an ear to listen. So, if you’re a parent out there who needs a friend, I’m here. We can get through the hard days together.