Why does anxiety become a constant companion for many, if not most, mothers, while their husbands manage to remain calm? Is it a punishment or a gift? This is reflected in the author of the column on the website of the newspaper The Guardian, signed under the pseudonym Lizzy Sharp.
I am a mother of two young people, one of whom is still a teenager. My children work hard, but also have fun to the fullest. Here in London, this means that in the evening they can be either at a club in Brixton, or at a party in Peckham, or at a party in Hackney and return home, most likely in the morning.
I can’t complain, they try to keep me informed and I usually go to bed with a text from the younger one like, “We’ll be back at 3, love you.” These days, 3 a.m. means “it’s not too late.”
That is, everything seems to be going well. But not for me. Just not for me. I tell myself that my children are reasonable people, that they need independence, that London is a relatively safe city in general, that rapists and robbers are almost non-existent among taxi drivers – but I still find it very difficult to sleep until I hear the click of the door lock.
Anxiety does not leave me, it permeates my dreams, and often I do not close my eyes at all, scrolling through the most terrible scenarios in my fantasies. At the same time, my husband sniffs quietly next to me, and the next morning he and the children enjoy Sunday breakfast, while after a sleepless night I feel completely overwhelmed.
The husband at work was completely distracted from thoughts about the children – his colleagues did not know at all that he was the father
Welcome to the world of maternal anxiety! I’m not talking about the kind of stress that clinical psychologists write scientific papers about and that leads to serious problems in children. And not about those completely natural worries that any normal parent experiences if a child falls ill or passes important exams. No, I’m talking about everyday, not so strong background anxiety caused by dangers that we only imagine and which controls our lives.
The doctor even asked my friend if she had ever lost a child, He couldn’t understand why she was so worried about her son’s nut allergy. Another friend says that her 20-year-old daughter began flipping through her medical record and asking her mother about her childhood illnesses: “What did I have? And this? – and she could not really remember anything, except for her own terrible anxiety.
A young mother recently said to me with vehemence: “I am terribly angry with myself. This unrelenting anxiety! My husband says stop worrying, but I can’t do anything about it.”
It seems to me that such conversations take place almost exclusively in the female circle. This is a kind of universal language, understandable to women of all ages, classes and nationalities. Such conversations are a kind of dependence, a kind of compensation, however, weak, for all our days and nights filled with anxiety. They seem so old fashioned. After all, we live in the XNUMXst century, which has called into question everything related to sex and gender, including the body itself. And yet, women still carry this emotional burden associated with family life and punish themselves for it.
My friend, a single mother, recalls how sharply different emotional experiences she and her ex-husband had: “I fell into a classic trap: on the one hand, anxiety for children while I am at work, on the other hand, anxiety for work while I children. And the husband at work was completely distracted from thoughts about children – his colleagues did not know at all that he was the father!
Maternal anxiety is a universal language understood by women of all ages, classes and nationalities.
What to do about it and can it be changed? Psychotherapist and writer Graham Music admits it’s not easy at all. “I don’t want to go down the path of biological determinism and explain everything only by our nature,” he says. “However, some studies suggest that there is a link between the hormone oxytocin, which is produced in the body of a nursing mother, and the symptoms of obsession.”
Is motherhood really some kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder? Not very good news. But it’s also a matter of cultural norms, points out Graham Music.: “Western culture recognizes it as natural that women can experience anxiety and anxiety, while men are protected (and protected) from anxiety by the fact that they need to “be strong” and “solve problems”. Testosterone reduces anxiety and acts as a kind of antidepressant.”
Of course, occasionally there are anxious fathers. But what about the vast majority of men blessed with natural antidepressants? Do they solve family problems? Isn’t it time to admit that this is what anxious mothers do after all? On the other hand, “Women, although they complain, are not ready to give up the palm to sensitive men,” says Graham Music. – And many of them love strong men. So it’s not all that clear.”
And even if we think it would be nice for men to share our anxieties with us, changing ingrained traditions is extremely difficult. We see this in the decades-long debate over the division of household chores between men and women.
In the meantime, let’s finally say a kind word about anxious parents. Their emotional involvement is worthy of respect. Someone should always be on the alert so as not to confuse the flu and meningitis, in order to think over the entire travel plan or prepare for exams in advance, in order to see in time that the child has contacted a bad company?
Testosterone in men reduces anxiety and acts as a kind of antidepressant
Is anxiety often exhausting and devastating? Yes. Is she more than necessary? Almost certainly. But let’s face it, it’s almost inevitable when we strive to raise enough independent and happy enough kids.
I remember how I was touched by the story of my mother, who was then well over 70. She admitted that every night before falling asleep, she turns her thoughts to each of her adult children, reflecting on how their life is going. These thoughts, she said, are like the beam of a beacon, which in the darkness highlights first one, then another part of the sea.
Although it was too late, I did realize that her life was filled with anxiety for us. However, she did not allow this anxiety to either consume her or overshadow our, by and large, joyful life in the family. When I think about my childhood, it is not my mother’s panic moods that come to mind, but our conversations, laughter, joint travels and adventures. And this is undoubtedly her most important achievement.
For details, see The Guardian newspapers.