'I will be a better Mother tomorrow'...

The words that swirl round my mind at the end of many days, and how I am learning to love myself through them...

Hello to anyone who is new here… I am Lauren, a Mother of two daughters, a Writer Soulful Business Mentor, Website & Branding Creator, Human Design Guide, Sacred Space Holder and multi dimensional human being. You can find out more about my work here. Please do subscribe to join the journey, and if you enjoy this, and you do have the means, I would be so grateful if you chose to support my creations for £5 a month…

A circle round the fire with wonderful women on Friday night…

Hello dear heart

How are you feeling today? I mean really feeling?

I have been allowing fluidity to overcome me these past few weeks when it comes to my creative work and writing.

We spent two weeks in France with family and now I am navigating leavers parties and big emotions (from me mostly) for my eldest as she graduates pre-school in preparation for her start at school this September.

On Friday I sat with an incredible group of women around a fire for our Gather Circle and my heart gushed with the sheer ‘rightness’ that it brought to me.

There have been family events — some joyful, some mixed with grief and heartache — and above everything else a strong pull to slow for the summer months and let my creativity ebb and flow without structure.

I see myself as being in a season of gathering. Many, many ideas are dropping in, and the summer light is illuminating new pathways and possibilities, BUT… there is very little desire to actually take action. I have learned by now not to force things, and so with deep trust I surrender to this polarising sensation of ‘…not yet’ and am giving myself permission to immerse myself in my life away from screens to let this gathering season fully land.

So, you can expect a slightly more sporadic posting schedule for the coming weeks, and then come September I will be returning to my weekly Wednesday shares as I have realised that I really thrive on having a sacred rhythm for my words to be witnessed.

How are you feeling in this season? Are you feeling the pull of action, or the call to slow?

On to the words that have been simmering away in my heart for a little while…

‘I will be a better Mother tomorrow…’

It’s Saturday night.

I am standing in the darkness… my body swaying from side to side, arms throbbing and begging for relief — while simultaneously knowing that they will never stop holding no matter how painful it gets. Tears stream down my face. I am whispering ‘I’m sorry. Mummy’s sorry. I’m so sorry I shouted at you. Mummy’s so sorry.”

Sorry… a word that feels uncomfortably familiar to me these days. As it tumbles from my lips again an ache vibrates through my chest. A swirling cocktail of frustration, anger, sadness and… shame… ripples like shockwaves through my body.

My youngest daughter is a sticky mess of salty tears and sweat as she clings like a koala to my chest. Her arms and legs wrap round me now as her little toddler body grows — it was only a few months ago (it seems) that I could hold her whole body in just my forearms.

This is a familiar place - I have been here thousands of times before, but I don’t frequent it quite so much these days. Part of me wants to weep with the strange and reassuring comfort I feel in this awkward position, yet it is also tainted by waves of remorse and sadness.

As her tears subside and her breathing starts to re-regulate, the tell-tale sound of her trying to catch each breath after the sobbing has eased is a painful reminder to me that she has been crying for a while. I am instantly transported back to times in my life where emotion has taken over my entire body. They aren’t memories I want to relive.

A bedtime that began at 6.30pm and now, 3 and a half hours later at 10pm, I am still here rocking and shushing, soothing and settling. She is asleep now, but it is me that needs this movement side to side, left foot, right foot, hips swaying. It is me that now needs to regulate after waves of intensity have crashed over and over my head drowning me and leaving me gasping for air.

My mind reflects on the moments building up to this moment. Moments I am not proud of.

Moments of my voice raised, my touch not as gentle as it should be, my patience pushed over the edge and plummeted into a deep ocean that seems to be endless.

Moments where it felt like my body was burning, physically and emotionally. Moments where I had to step outside of the room and let her cry just to hold on to the threads of myself. Moments that I tell myself ‘no other Mother would respond the way you have’.

Moments where I feel broken and like I don’t deserve these beautiful daughters.

Moments where shame seeps over my entire body and threatens to devour me in one painful bite.

Resting her body down on the mattress I can still hear the faint irregularity of her breath, but her body is settled and floppy with sleep. Exhausted from the emotions flowing through her body.

I tip toe out of the room and go to tend to my weary and bruised Mama heart. As I place my own body down in bed, turning to a sound healing meditation and my accupressure mat to settle my nervous system so that I have a tiny chance of finding sleep, I find myself returning to a sentence I come to often. Too often…

Tomorrow I will regulate myself better. I will try harder to keep my centre. I won’t raise my voice. I won’t criticise my husband because he hasn’t done things ‘my way’. I will pause before reacting.

I will hold myself better.

Tomorrow I will do better.

I will BE better. I will be nicer.

Moments with my hands and heart full in France a few weeks ago

Despite knowing that I am only human, that I am doing my best, that I am not a ‘bad mother’, the deflation I feel and disappointment I hold towards myself is crushing.

My heckles raised already I snap at my husband when he comes to bed even though he doesn’t say a word. I imagine that I feel his judgement — which is of course my own projections but my guard is up, my inner defenses on high alert, my inner child protecting her wounded heart.

Managing my own expectations

I have high expectations. Too high. I am critical of myself and, I hate to admit, often critical of others. It isn’t something I ‘love’ about myself but I am slowly and gently teasing out the narratives that underpin these behaviours and I know they have been placed carefully there as a barrier against harm.

There is a part of me that doesn’t feel safe when things aren’t going ‘my way’… and not in a ‘stamp my feet’ kind of I want it my way… but in a way that feels viscerally unsafe. Is it perfectionism? Is it a need to control? Am I just a bitch deep down? Questions I ponder on a regular basis.

I spend many moments in a spiral of losing my patience, feeling guilt and shame, vowing to ‘do better’, resetting and trying to be compassionate with myself, then being grounded and centred until something pushes me over the edge again. It can be minutes… it can be hours… it can be days… but something will always cause me to freefall off that cliff again I can be sure of that.

The desire to be ‘nice’

I sometimes feel like such a fraud. My work is so focused on soothing others, holding others, being grounded and present to what is, responding with love… but not many people see the side of me that is highly critical, defensive and terrified of getting things ‘wrong’ and disappointing people.

There is a shadow side to me that I hide…

One of the things I am most afraid of others finding out is that I’m actually not a ‘very nice’ person…

When I was in my early twenties one of eldest friends, who is no longer part of my life unfortunately, said to me after meeting another mutual friend, ‘she is like you, but a nicer version of you.’

That sentence still makes me wince. It makes a part of me shrink and shrivel. The sting in those words I can still feel now two decades on.

I have always been very honest and open, I speak my mind and was constantly ‘in trouble’ as a child and in my teens for not being able to ‘keep my mouth shut’. My determination and drive is intense, my parents always joke that if I set my mind to something it is virtually complete before someone else has drawn breath. Traits that I admire in others, but of course not everyone sees it this way and I have been careless at times in my regard for how my actions impact others.

The words bulldozer, thoughtless, relentless and selfish have all been used at one time or another to describe me. I can feel the heat of shame rise in me even as I write this.

I have also been described as a bit ‘prickly’. I don’t love to be touched/hugged/comforted unless it’s on my own terms. I’ve never been one for the millions of kisses and cuddles you are expected to give and receive at every social gathering — I am much more likely to slip away without anyone noticing over performing half an hour of pleasantries I am ‘supposed’ to make.

And… I simply cannot tolerate small talk so am often mistaken for being moody or anti-social.

When measured against my own storyline of what makes someone ‘kind’ and ‘nice’ I don’t really fit the brief… and yet…

At my core I really do care. A lot.

I have a huge amount of love to give, I am loyal and I love to nurture others. I adore supporting others in their dreams and their visions and I truly want nothing more than to see others realise the wild and wonderful possibilities that their life gives them.

But when I lose my ground over something seemingly small, a powerful story takes over. A voice inside saying ‘I am fake. I don’t really care. I am selfish. I am not kind.’ And that voice can be very loud and very persuasive.

Despite witnessing all of this within me, I am learning to re-write these narratives. I have to work hard to be kind to myself, it is a practice, and Motherhood certainly gives me plenty of opportunity to witness and choose to change these patterns.

Practices of self compassion

• The sentence (repeated like a mantra) — ‘this is not personal’. In the moments when my children are activating something within me I return to this sentence over and over again. It is the adult version of me telling the younger version that I don’t need to defend myself, this isn’t an attack on me, it is NOT personal. This sentence helps me drop out of the story that I have done something ‘wrong’ and keep my heart open to their needs.

• Pausing before reacting. It sounds so simple but it is one of the hardest things to master and yet it truly does make a difference. If I can be still for just one moment it is often enough to break the circuit of reactiveness. I always place my hand on my heart at the same time and it reminds me to stay anchored to my loving nature.

• Holding tension in my body. When I feel my emotions start to bubble up — and potentially over — I use tension and release through my body. Squeezing my fists, my toes, the muscles in my legs… anything I can access, helps release a little bit of charge from my body to enable me to be with whatever I am dealing with at that time. In moments when I cannot ‘escape’ a situation this has become a really useful tool.

• Curiosity before criticism. I use curiosity to try and interrupt the critical thoughts before they get too toxic towards myself. When I am triggered by my children’s behaviour, or by any situation, I invite a question inwards to the part of me that is reacting, it is almost like striking up a conversation with that part to ask what I might be making it mean, and what I might need to soothe it.

• What would love do? This question never fails to change the trajectory of my response to a challenging situation and it always leads to a gentler outcome. It doesn’t mean I am always light and fluffy, love is often strong and boundaried, but it does stop me from responding from a wounded place and reminds me that I can choose to act from love.

• See myself through a Mother’s loving eyes. When my daughters make a mistake or act in a way that isn’t kind I will hold the boundary that is necessary and highlight the wrongdoing but I would never try and make them feel bad about themselves for their learnings. So, when I do the same I try and see myself through a Mother’s gaze. We are learning together. We admit our mistakes, we take responsibility, we apologise or make ‘right’ when necessary, but there is never shaming or negating their feelings.

Do you have any practices of self compassion you would add to this list?

What is ‘better’ anyway?

While I do think it is important to take responsibility for ourselves, I also think it is impossible not to be influenced to some degree by the overculture and the unrealistic ‘perfect mother’ ideal that is projected by so much of society.

What does a ‘better mother’ look like? One that doesn’t shout, doesn’t lose her temper, doesn’t show rage, doesn’t put on the disney channel so she can write and respond to emails, doesn’t look at her phone when the children are eating breakfast, doesn’t ask her children to stop climbing on her, doesn’t get touched out, doesn’t mindlessly scroll through Instagram when sitting on the floor playing with cars, doesn’t zone out when her 4 year old is asking her why she can’t have a kitten for the three thousandth time… ?

Despite sometimes feeling like I am not trying hard enough… (inner critic at work) I really am doing my best. Will my kids end up in a therapy chair in years to come unpicking some of the things I have ‘messed up on’?

Possibly. Probably.

I won’t get it ‘right’ every time. But I will always say sorry.

I will always be learning and growing. I will always stay open to witnessing the parts of me that need to be soothed and healed as they show up and I will always re-route myself back to love, even if it takes a little practice and I get lost along the way.

So I won’t ‘be a better Mother tomorrow’, because I am good enough today.

I would love to hear how this lands for you. Have you ever felt in a similar space? How do you navigate the inner stories you have collected over the years? Please do share your thoughts in the comments, or reply to this on email if you wish.

Until next time…

With so much love

Lauren

xxx

Notes of interest…

I am very excited to be part of the speaker lineup for

Chanel Riggle

’s beautiful Mental Health & Motherhood Virtual Conference that takes place in October. There are some fantastic contributors and the event is going to be a wonderful opportunity to tend to your self. Tickets are now available to buy here.

I was so honoured to be invited by

Allegra Chapman

to be in conversation with her for her publication on the subject of Holding Space, Women’s Circles and Leadership. You can watch some of it here.

If you are local to Kent you can join me in person on Friday 16th August for our next Women’s Circle and/or Saturday 21st September for my Mother’s Retreat in Sevenoaks. You can find out more here.

Explore the library…

If you enjoyed this piece and wish to explore my other spaces please use the links below to explore…

Motherhood Essays
Self-Tending Practices
The Unravelling Podcast
Sacred Living
Work With Me