The superpower I never wanted

Mom strength is real.

I’d been tired for half the summer. But this was a new brand of tired for me: deeper, more numb. This was weary.

Mid-July

Before we even left Seattle, I started getting anxious, then tired. Anxious about what, you tell me. That’s the point. Things were too good, our time too short, who can say?

We took a day trip to Alki Beach on our last full day there. We rode the water taxi and walked over 9 miles getting around downtown and west Seattle. I’d been staying up late losing sleep for a week by that point.

Back home in Austin, facing down at least 6 weeks of 100º+ days and a drought with no relief in sight, I resolved to do what I could to stay positive: run in the morning before the sun is up, jump in Barton Springs, don’t go out during the heat of the day. And it worked alright. But I got tired, and I stayed there.

Sunrise at Barton Springs

At night, after the kids went to sleep, I scrolled and scrolled and scrolled: mostly Instagram, sometimes Facebook, sometimes a message board. Some nights I tried to lay down early, only to toss and turn for an hour, growing frustrated. Others, I tried my old standby melatonin—then Phoebe would have a rare night wake and I’d have to tend to her with my eyes practically glued shut. That happened literally twice. Sometimes I’d get hooked on a novel until the wee hours of the morning.

I confessed my sins to my therapist; “Lots of moms do that,” she said.

Thanks.

One night I was so stressed, I stayed up until 3 a.m. Why? Because I had to drive a 3-hour round trip to Waco and back the next day. I used to do that drive during college frequently, and it was terrifying when you’re drowsy.

Another day I slept just 3 hours before getting up to meet a friend to run. I’d canceled on her last time; I’d no-showed on other friends earlier that week. Balls were dropping. I was overwhelmed and I needed some positive momentum. It didn’t make sense.

But I pulled off both of these days. I’d found a silver lining of sorts: I was so wound up I didn’t feel sleepy during the day. I felt like shit, but I wasn’t yawning. Being sleepy was a luxury I couldn’t afford. That and my pride got me out of bed; that day I left to run, I could not claim another day of rest—could not, would not—besides, if I stayed home I’d just have little ones climbing on me or wanting to play, instead of a run then chat over tacos.

End of August

We got ourselves to the Texas beach, joining my family on vacation. Sleep eluded me for various reasons (an errant smoke alarm, baby wakes, my own tossing and turning). And that was vacation—imagine regular life. I felt ragged and stuck. I wanted it all to stop, to disappear. I considered taking a sick day from work but was too chicken to do so, instead trudging back and forth to the kitchen and eating leftover Pop Tarts for a meal, ignoring my Garmin’s admonishment’s to move. I quit going to the gym for my lifts. I felt numb to my physical needs, couldn’t even tell you where my emotional needs began. I’m amazed that my body continued to make breast milk when so much else felt like it was short circuiting.

This was like some kind of mom superpower I never wanted to have. Yes, I want to be strong, but I don’t want a life where I feel like I need to be super, all the time.

I was so frustrated at all the things that need to go right for me to get rest. It made me not even want to try anymore. But I was desperate. My mind wandered for a solution. A solo getaway was not in the cards. My hypothesis was that it was either time to give up coffee, or get off social media. If I could at least stop the nighttime scrolling, maybe I could fall asleep. Or maybe the caffeine—my normal habit, but this didn’t feel like normal life anymore—was ramping up my anxiety.

I decided to keep coffee in my life, and I changed the passwords on my Instagram and Facebook. I didn’t save them, so I effectively locked myself out. But would it fix anything?

September

It’s been almost two weeks without Instagram and Facebook, and I’m not sure if much is better. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough. I still find myself craving the escape from daily life; I’ve resorted to surfing other sites like Pinterest or Reddit, but things seem a bit less unpredictable; I’m not getting sucked in as unawares like I would with Reels. I still have that urge to scroll when I want a break or I’m bored. I check Strava more, and LinkedIn, which I find only slightly interesting, and I read two Judy Blume novels this week. I know some practical tips for what I could do when these urges hit: things like movement, or taking a break (an actual break). I don’t often do them because the nice thing about scrolling is you can pretend you are juuuuust about to start the next task (or go to bed) after this next couple minutes. Yes, any minute now. Versus getting up the desk, actually taking a break, and wait, whoa girl, you haven’t earned that yet! Yikes.

And the bad part is without Instagram, I also feel less creative and connected. I know it has its pitfalls, but it does get me taking more pictures of my daily life, noticing pleasant things or small beauties. And it keeps me writing.

Now

Two nights ago was the first night I felt like I got actual good sleep. Instead of numb or wired, I felt tired. I laid down; the baby slept all night, and I rested. I woke up to a soft rain falling; our first in weeks.

This drought can’t last forever, right?