I’ve dialed everything back as far as I can because shit. will not. stop. happening. Any more nasty surprises and I might break down completely. I don’t want this blog to become a chronicle of my troubles so I’ll spare you the details. The important thing is that I really have to admit I have an unhealthy cycle of trying to push through signs of parental burnout instead of slowing down and taking care of myself. It was less dramatic and easier to ignore before All The Things happened but the pattern’s been there all along.

Over the last week I really had to put some thought into what’s behind this pattern and I realized it’s not perfectionism, exactly. It’s more that some part of me expects to be interviewed and judged for the way I spend my time, so that even self care can become a stressful, goal-oriented series of chores to check off a list. That’s a weird way of thinking, but it’s actually the way I grew up.

The church I grew up in had a lot of rules and expectations. You had to pay a full 10% tithe, accept volunteer positions with your congregation, make assigned visits to fellow members every month, and lots of other stuff. Plenty of churches ask for more than mine and plenty ask for less. Most churches, though, don’t seem to call you up regularly and ask whether you’re getting it all done. Mine totally does that. Or did that for all the years I was in it. At the end of the month, someone calls and asks if you did your visits. “Volunteer” positions usually require a formal interview where you declare your moral worthiness to help plan monthly craft nights or play the piano for the children’s Sunday school. Once a year you have to sit down with your pastor and look over a summary of your tithes and donations with him, as well as answering questions about your sexual habits and faith in Jesus. If your answers aren’t the right answers, that means more interviews to check up on how well you’re repenting.

There’s more, but you get the idea by now. Pretty intense, right? Being good wasn’t just a matter of conscience but of public record in our church. This meddling into my moral life didn’t seem weird at the time but eventually I realized it was. Even before I officially quit (which required an interview, a formal letter to headquarters, and dozens of awkward chats with church members who thought I couldn’t possibly be serious about quitting) I put a lot of effort into separating my own authenticity and moral sense from the church’s checklists and interviews. I made a lot of progress, so yay me, but I’m clearly not all the way there. I still push myself as if there’s an interview coming, as if I’ll need to prove I’ve spent my time and money as well as I possibly can.

The place this shows up the most is in my parenting style. Parenting culture these days is already super judgmental; even helpful, soothing articles usually end with awful advice like “maybe not all the dusting needs to be done daily” or “you don’t have to volunteer for every school activity” that make serious frustrations seem trivial. Add to that the rigid gender roles and intense moral questioning I grew up with, and maybe no amount of deprogramming could completely relax me. I’m not naturally that friendly and warm, so I’m already pushed to my limit just emotionally supporting my kids. I care about them, I like them, I want them to feel safe and happy and whatnot, I’m just a Wednesday Addams type who hates smiling and group fun so it’s a struggle. Add in this leftover feeling of being watched and pushed and judged, and I push myself way too hard and feel way too much guilt over my flaws and mistakes.

I’ve had therapists try to tell me all about guilt and shame, and how I’m really feeling unhealthy shame and need to separate myself from it. I’m sure it’s not shame, though. It’s guilt. Somehow, in spite of being the world’s worst match for the religion of my youth, I’ve never thought there was anything truly wrong with me. I don’t ever remember truly feeling ashamed of my nerdy, gothy personality. Maybe it was because of all the interviews, but I always saw extraversion and cheerfulness and spiritual bliss as skills to master instead of personality traits. I always assumed I could master them and become morally perfect if I only tried harder. It wasn’t until I’d tried like hell for over 30 years and still had zero spiritual bliss or extraversion that I realized I might just not be built that way. Once I finally did I relaxed a lot. And quit that religion. But I guess I kept some of the parenting guilt.

I guess I need more deprogramming, so back to basics it is. My intention for this holiday season is to keep things simple wherever I can. Eat good food, exercise without intense goals, only do what I really need or want to do, and try not to push myself the second I feel less burned out. I’ve made it a week so far without piling more stuff on myself or feeling too intensely guilty; we’ll see if I can last another.