A Tale of Mom Guilt

A Story

Every year, I try to book a trip for myself without my husband and our two school-age children. It's a welcome chance to step away from the busyness of parenting and home life and get back in touch with myself. When I return home, I find I am more patient with our kids, I can see the forest rather than just the trees, and I am happier overall. I notice these improvements in myself last for a good long while. Even if just one weekend a year, these trips can feel like a lifeline.

A couple years ago, aware of my dwindling emotional energy as a parent, I booked a spring weekend in a simple cabin in the woods on Vashon Island, near our home in Seattle. As usual, I reserved it months ahead, first studying the family calendar to ensure the timing worked well for everyone.

My plan was perfect: drop the kids at school Friday morning (my husband would pick them up later), catch the ferry, explore the island, and spend the first night alone in the cabin. I looked forward to curling up in the sleeping loft under the eaves, listening for the hooting owls the Airbnb reviews promised. The next day, a close friend would join me for the second night before we headed home together.

About a month before my trip, an email arrived from my kids’ elementary school. The annual school play, this year The Tale of Jumping Mouse, would be performed on an upcoming Friday. In fact, the Friday of my departure to Vashon Island —at 4 p.m.

Oh no (or maybe it was Oh $&*#), I thought, with a sinking feeling. The trip mattered so much to me, but I didn’t want to miss the play.

Our kids' school plays are like a step back in time to my youth in the 80’s and 90’s: sets and costumes carefully made by the kids, one kid positioned on the side of the stage with a mic proudly acting as “narrator” through the performance, and a couple of other kids sitting at the foot of the stage playing notes on xylophones with great focus at key moments, for sound effects. With our own children in fourth and second grades, we didn't have many of these left. I didn't want to miss The Tale of Jumping Mouse.

Later, at school pick-up, I asked our kids if they’d been assigned parts. My fourth grader replied she was in the choir. “Yeah,” our second grader then butt in with great enthusiasm, “I’m Jumping Mouse!” 

That’s when my heart plunged fully into my stomach. How could I miss the play when my son was the star?!

I ran through alternate plans, like attending the play and leaving for the island after, fighting traffic and getting dinner on the road. But I’d miss the day of alone time on the island, and that’s what I so deeply craved and knew would replenish me the most. I’d planned this trip for months. I pined for this particular cabin in the woods. Chances to get away were rare. I couldn’t bear to reschedule it.

Whether I missed the play or missed my solo time, I felt sharply aware of the potential loss, disappointment and even resentment on my part or my son’s. There seemed no way to win. I also feared how others might judge me for missing the play. Ridiculous as it may seem, I pictured my little mouse taking the stage and some adults in the audience thinking, Sarah missed this?? A work trip or family emergency would make sense, but a SELF-CARE weekend? 

And yet I felt pretty clear. I really wanted some time away. I needed to miss the play. But it felt uncomfortable and wrong to do so. The many feelings and thoughts piled up and felt stuck inside me. It was a truck-load of Mom Guilt.

The Science

True to elementary school style, I’m making this blog post a kind of book report. I recently finished and loved the new book, “Parents Have Feelings Too: A Guide to Navigating Your Emotions So You and Your Family Can Thrive,” by Hilary Jacobs Hendel, LCSW, and Juli Fraga, PsyD. Rooted in psychological research, the book has an entire chapter on parental guilt, alongside chapters on the many other common emotions parents face like fear, sadness, anger, disappointment, disgust, and pride. 

Guilt for parents, the authors write, is often over scenarios exactly like what I encountered in my dilemma. Parents have their own needs, and children have theirs. The biological pull towards caring for our kids first is very strong, and yet, we must care for ourselves as adults too. Sometimes, hard choices have to be made.  

Why We Feel Guilt

It can seem like such a pesky, useless emotion, but guilt has an evolutionary purpose.

Jacobs Hendel and Fraga write:

“Guilt is an emotion that evolved to curb behaviors that harm ourselves or others. It prevents us from being dishonest and breaking the law. Guilt also stops our unchecked anger, envy, and greed. It helps us do the right thing at work and in our families.” (p 95)

Humans are still pack animals after all -- we very much need relationships and community to thrive. Infants are born fairly undeveloped and highly dependent on a caregiver for survival, so parental guilt helps ensure our babies live. And starting in childhood, we’re wired to avoid doing things that would render us outcasts or alone. Guilt is a positive safeguard for the survival of our species.

How Guilt Trips Us Up

But guilt can lead to two main problems, Jacobs Hendel and Fraga explain:

1. Guilt can block us from noticing and processing our underlying core feelings, such as sadness or anger. We need to feel and notice our emotions in order to clue into what we need, or what we care about.  The sharing of core emotions also builds trust and intimacy in relationships. This starts in infancy when a baby cries and their caregiver attunes to their needs. Our core emotions, the authors say, are a “compass for living.”

   
   

2. Guilt can also lead us to inaccurate beliefs or conclusions. A rabbit-hole-thought many parents have – and I was certainly half-way down – is, “I’m a terrible parent for putting myself above my child.” Actually, we can only take reasonably good care of our kids if we also take good care of ourselves. 

The Change Triangle

The book promotes a visual tool called “The Change Triangle.” It’s not just for parents, but for all of us to better understand and make use of our responses and feelings so they don’t get stuck in unpleasant states such as guilt. Originally coined “The Triangle of Conflict” by Dr. David Malan in the 1970s, it’s been adapted over time.

Jacobs Hendel and Fraga's iteration of the Change Triangle is so relevant and pragmatic, they consider it a public health tool. This video tells their story. 

On the upper left corner of the triangle are “Defenses,” which are a form of self-protection: anything we do to avoid our feelings. Defenses can be nonverbal such as rolling our eyes, verbal such as shouting an insult, physical such as feeling a kind of "wall" go up inside, or behavioral such as numbing out with mindless scrolling. Defenses can also exist as states like depression or fatigue. A defense can be unhealthy when we feel we can't control or choose it, or when it hurts ourself or someone else. But when we choose it and feel in control of it, a defense can be a healthy way to calm down or adapt. 

On the upper right corner are “Inhibitory Emotions,” which are a different kind of self-protection. Inhibitory emotions include anxiety, shame, and guilt. These emotions keep us following the rules of society. They are typically a cover for other, underlying emotions. They help us from getting overwhelmed by these deeper emotions. As tempting as it is to avoid, minimize or deny inhibitory emotions, they actually start to lessen when we gently approach them, get curious about what thoughts and feelings lie underneath them, accept them, and seek support for them. (Selfish plug: counseling/therapy is a great way to do that.)

At the bottom tip of the triangle are “Core Emotions,” or the underlying, basic emotions we all experience. These include anger, fear, sadness, disgust, joy and excitement. And downwards from Core Emotions, directly below the triangle, is the “Open-Hearted State of Authentic Self,” or the calm, compassionate state we feel once we’ve processed our core emotions.

So What Do We Do About Guilt?

The Change Triangle is meant to be moved around and downwards, towards our core emotions. If you are experiencing an inhibitory emotion such as guilt, the invitation is to get curious about what core emotions lie beneath it. Sometimes it helps to ask yourself in a slow and contemplative way, “Is this anger? Is this fear? Is this sadness?” etc. and listen to what you feel and notice in response.

Once you have an idea for the core feeling or feelings you're experiencing, it can help to take a little time to simply feel them. Some ways to do that might be:

• Talk with someone you trust about them

• Journal about them (just writing a list like “I’m worried about X, I’m worried about Y, I’m worried about Z” might feel relieving)

• Take a walk or choose another fairly mindless activity to do while you notice and feel the emotion

• Intentionally listen to music that matches your mood (you might start a few playlists for different emotions)

Last, can you offer yourself a little comfort or care? A few ways to do that could be:

• Take some deep breaths

• Tell yourself it makes sense you feel this way

• Lay one or both palms on your heart for a few moments or wrap your arms around yourself for a squeeze 

After processing our emotions and showing ourselves kindness, we often feel the intensity of the challenging emotion fade. We may feel more clear about what this emotion means to us or what we want to do about it. We tend to feel more curious, calm, connected, and compassionate.

Back to my Story

Now to circle back to my guilt over potentially missing the school play. 

I didn’t know about the Change Triangle then, but over the several days I was sitting with this decision, I identified my many core emotions – pride in both my kids and son in particular for his leading part, anticipation for the performance, grief for time passing as they quickly grew up, grief for the impossibility of being everything to everyone or being in two places at once, grief for my own limited energy, frustration for this unfortunate timing, and a fierce conviction to take care of myself.

It felt like a wild, spicy soup.

In good news, some relief came when two things happened. First, I asked my son if he cared whether I was there or not. No, he said, he really did not care. He was excited about the play and his role for himself and his experience of it, he told me, not so much because he’d have an audience. Perhaps he was humoring me, but I sensed his authenticity. And a sidenote – I was thrilled he put value in the experience, rather than focusing on the product or what others thought. Valuing process over outcome tends to support mental health best, and it’s something I help clients practice via Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.

Second, to my great relief, my husband said he planned to go to the play, to support our kids and get lots of photos and videos to share with me after. (And actually, there was a third thing: I learned my son was “Jumping Mouse 1,” and other kids would play “Jumping Mouse 2” and “Jumping Mouse 3” through the performance. So he wasn’t the only star!)

The Friday of my trip and the play, I dropped the kids at school, and made my way to the island. It felt thrilling to be alone and away. Everything went off without a hitch, until one hurdle. I checked into the cabin at around 3:30 pm. It was drafty and cold. I searched for a thermostat or heater but found nothing. On the table there was a welcome booklet, explaining the sole source of heat was the wood-burning stove. I’d never built a fire on my own before. Thankfully, there were kindling supplies, wood, and matches carefully laid out with step-by-step instructions. I was all at once daunted and excited to try. If this didn’t work, it would be a chilly weekend. 

Step by step, I lit the kindling and closed the glass doors. I sat down on the couch opposite the stove and watched and listened as a genuine fire roared to life.

I looked at my watch – it was 4:00. The play was due to start. I imagined the elementary school gym, folding chairs filled, lights dimming, and the audience quieting down… as a spotlight appeared on the stage and my little Jumping Mouse emerged on all fours. I imagined him feeling excited, a little nervous, proud, and focused. 

I looked at the fire and beamed at my accomplishment. My son was having his moment to shine, and I was having mine. My grief and other challenging emotions were still there, though quieter now. I also felt grateful, and at peace.

The first of several fires I built that weekend

Let’s Look At You

When have you felt guilt?

What core emotions underlay the guilt?

What’s one inhibitory emotion or defense you experience that you’d like to better understand in yourself?

This blog is for educational purposes only, and not a substitute for mental health treatment.