It’s obviously been a long time since I sent out a newsletter. I have been taking the time since deciding to stop pursuing Heartfelt Moves to inquire into which aspects of the business I truly enjoyed - and writing is definitely one of them. In spite of my fears, I’m going to experiment with the ideas that I want to interrogate and that I think may be of interest to others, but (of course), feel free to unsubscribe if it’s no longer of interest.
Yesterday when I went to get Eden from kindergarten, Leila was asleep in the car. I parked directly out front and ducked in to collect him without taking her too. The teacher, who I admire and respect, touched me on the arm briefly and said “I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave your baby in the car next time. Just call and we will bring Eden out to you.”
I felt a wave of shame, frustration and indignation. I noticed all of this in the moment, and again later that evening, when I received the weekly newsletter reiterating the general request that ‘Parents not leave infants or toddlers in the car at pick up time’. It’s a completely valid reminder. It’s also an example of how there are demands on mothers to be vigilant and keep their child(ren) safe that exist in a number that would cause anyone to become anxious. Triaging what to worry about and prioritise when; assessing risk (often in the context of competing and conflicting factors not to mention individual children) is relentless.
Equally, though, I am often defensive and sensitive to criticism, which was also playing out in my response to Fathima’s request.
A major reason why I felt I could no longer pursue a business in the motherhood and fitness space is, ironically, because it made my anxiety much worse. The time required to spend on social media, the self-objectification inevitable (for me) in trying to create and appraise content then distance oneself from any perceived negative reactions, the comparisons and inadequacy I felt - it all overshadowed the enjoyment of the teaching itself.
Anxiety is a close companion of mine, and I have spent many years trying to appease it, through various modes and flavours of dysfunction, as well as many hours of books, podcasts and therapy trying to better understand it. I have come to accept that it is (a) likely I’ll always experience anxiety, and (b) that I can make choices that alleviate the extent of the suffering my anxiety causes. This feels realistic and empowering.
Whilst I experienced diagnosed anxiety after a traumatic experience in my late teens (and was probably a sensitive/anxious kid before then), many women are either functioning with anxiety without a diagnosis or not anxious at all until they have their first baby.
Each of my pregnancies has seen me screened for depression, such is the recognition of its prevalence, but never have I been proactively screened for anxiety. In fact, there is not even an agreed upon clinical screening tool for anxiety. There is a total absence of psychoeducation in pregnancy and postpartum on anxiety to allow for accurate self-reporting. Even if there was, we typically underestimate and normalise our own suffering, attributing symptoms such as exhaustion, irritability, obsessive intrusive thoughts or difficulty concentrating to what we have accepted as ‘just the realities of caring for a new baby’.
Maternal depressive and anxiety symptoms also worsened during the COVID-19 pandemic and have not yet returned to pre-pandemic rates. Research (and definitely anecdote) suggests causes include further narrowing of gender-based parenting roles during the pandemic, and the removal of many social support avenues which are known to be protective factors (amongst other factors). I definitely attribute part of the cause of my maternal psychiatric admission in 2021 to loneliness and isolation whilst at home with an infant and toddler.
Given my strong suspicion anxiety is underdiagnosed, and that access to effective treatment can be challenging (for many reasons), I thought it would be worth sharing what I have come to know and understand about the causes and consequences of anxiety for myself, in case it is of use to anyone else.
(Illustration by Kell Kitsch, Deakin University Burwood)
I recently heard a working definition of anxiety that resonated: an overestimation of the likelihood of ‘Bad Things Happening’ and an underestimation of our ability to cope if they do. I would add: a tendency to conflate unrelated matters (“If I (x), then (y) will/won’t happen [where (x) feels in my control]”). Humans prefer certainty, and an interpretation of life that ascribes us agency and free will. Thus it follows, if it feels likely that Bad Things will happen, and it feels natural / unquestioned that we have more control in life than we in fact likely do, we are likely to fill the gap of the unknown with behaviours we think we can engage in that will minimise or even possibly totally prevent Bad Things.
Enter: The Compulsion to Control (Even things we Cannot Control).
It feels possible and very important that we do control what we think we can, and at the very least that we don’t stop trying. Problem is, since it’s both a) not possible to succeed at controlling to the degree and extent people with anxiety feel they must; and b) not actually going to stop the Bad Things (because even though not as likely as we fear, they will happen sometimes), it’s all a recipe for feeling terrible about oneself. For feeling both micro and macro failures regularly reflect our own inadequacy. Because that’s another common tendency of us all - self blame. We assign more personal relevance and influence to ourselves than we really have, and thus interpret events, especially negative ones, through this lens.
Given all of that, it’s no surprise depression and anxiety commonly travel together.
Seen in this context, as my mind’s misguided attempt to keep me and those I love safe, I can more readily conjure self-compassion than if I remain at the level of the interpretation of a failure to control being personal fallibility. (ie. Rather than ‘I can forgive myself for not preventing my kid’s unhappiness’, try ‘My kids unhappiness is not my fault. I can forgive myself for the pain I cause in trying [and inevitably failing] to eliminate all negative feelings in those I love’.) My unreasonably exacting standards, and rigid beliefs about how things “should” be are trying to protect me/my family from the uncertainty of life, which is both impossible to avoid, and not actually related to all my efforts. Look at little me, so insignificant in the universe, trying so hard!
I have spent a lot of time both pondering the abstract and replaying specific instances trying to work out how much of the anxiety I experience is because of the way I am being, versus the way the world is and the impact of that on me. I’ve called these ‘internal factors’ and ‘external factors’, and I’ve come to suspect it’s a little from Column A, a little from Column B. I am both inherently predisposed to anxiety, and conditioned by our society and culture to be anxious.
When we found out we would be having a surprise third baby, we quickly went to work on sourcing some additional help, and invited an au pair to come and live with us. When she was settling in and a dear friend asked me how it was going, I reflected on the strangeness of being at home with a newborn but trying to enlist the help of a relative stranger to do the care work for your other children, and concluded that I felt I was still too much of a ‘control freak’ and needed to ‘let go’. She helpfully reframed this more generously, saying, “No Em, it’s just that details are your love language.” I thought of all the details: which pyjamas Eden prefers, and how warm to make the bath, and which cup is whose for bedtime milk, and on and on. It is true that being a primary carer means we bank endless specific information about preferences, approaches, routines, more effective strategies and that feels - and is - meaningful. It’s probably completely natural then that it is hard to walk away and allow someone else to do it differently. It feels somehow as though their not-knowing-and-managing-anyway undermines the hard won information and our superstitious commitment to ensuring it all always happen a certain way.
But to what extent is my need to control stopping me from accepting help? To what extent is the much bemoaned (and totally legitimate) ‘mental load’ a reflection of my own anxiety that things be done a certain way?
When I complained that leaving to go to pilates meant the kids weren’t dressed and the house was messier and I wondered ‘was it really worth it’, my psychologist pointed out that I can’t expect others will be as effective or have as much capacity for multitasking as I might, but equally, I can’t expect that others have the exact same values or will make the same choices as me. My partner or au pair might value play more, or make a choice to single task at that time.
Thus, I continue to deploy kindness and curiosity towards myself and my anxiety.
I reflect: What feels really important to me to try to influence, and what just feels compulsive or obsessive, as a way to try to avoid negative feelings? (For example, if I say ‘I prefer the house to be tidy’, is that something I genuinely value? Is it a preference that reflects entrenched social conditioning? Does it - momentarily - appease the part of me that constantly fears I’m not productive, worthy and accomplished?) It’s probably a matter of degrees. But when I know I’ve tipped over into ‘unhelpfully controlling’ or anxious about something, it’s about rewiring my brain through exposure and accepting the discomfort that goes along with it. Reconditioning, to allow for different choices to be possible.
Control, drive, ambition and high expectations can be used for good. They are not necessarily a pathology. However I commonly apply these to areas or to extents that are unhelpful, or that cause pain. Allowing an integration of my drive as well as a more open and expansive, receptive and accepting relationship to the world is an ongoing unfolding that I won’t always get ‘right’, and that’s OK.
Lastly.
One thing that always helps me when I am fused in anxiety in a given moment, provided I remember to do it, is to connect to my physical body and take a few deep breaths. I notice my strong preference to stay fused in the ‘thinking mind’ to try to ‘solve’ the cause of the anxiety, and I shift into noticing my feeling body. It’s staggering to me that the extremely cost effective, scalable, immediately effective intervention of teaching all pregnant women deep diaphragmatic breathing could empower them to manage anxiety better and potentially even have improved labours, but instead we focus almost exclusively on sometimes very remote risks to the fetus.
Does any of this resonate?
Let me know in the comments below.
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Stay tuned for future newsletters on topics such as work, identity, parenting, health (including movement, food and body image), friendships, co-parenting, perfectionism and more.