The journey to find regulation in our emotional health can be lifelong, especially after becoming a mother. You’re on this curious new ride through adulthood, hoping to figure out who you are. Then, perhaps what feels like suddenly, you’re someone new again—a mother.
My own journey has taken many turns. Sometimes I think about what I might say to my younger self, to 10-year-old me, the girl with freckles and always in a tree; to 15 year-old me, the girl with bottle blonde hair plagued with insecurity; to 20 year-old me, the young woman just starting to figure out who she was and who she did not want to be; and so on. The most important lessons I’ve learned are that it’s necessary for me to take care of myself to be the best mom, wife, friend, sister, etc. that I can be. I needed to give myself grace because I don’t have to be perfect to be what my family needs.
For a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me. I am stubborn. I yell sometimes. I would get angry and yell. I do the right things. I look good on paper and in appearance as a social worker and fitness instructor. I was doing the right things, right? How could I possibly need more?
Something had to give. The random triggers would leave me feeling suffocated and angry. My kids were walking on eggshells. That isn’t the life I want for them. I realize life isn’t rainbows and sunshine every day, but they deserve better. They deserved a mom with emotional regulation. More recently than not, I willed myself to go to therapy yet again. This time, I found a wise woman who helped me reframe the way I was seeing myself. It turns out, I’m not a monster. Through her reflections, I realized that I had lived no ordinary life. I had been to war. I watched my husband go to war. We tried to navigate a sense of normalcy back home. I was diagnosed with unexplained infertility. After years of waiting, I was able to get pregnant, only to give birth traumatically. Fast forward quite a few more years, a few more military moves, many more goodbyes, and muddling through the years with young kids and no sense of permanency. Yep, that’s a lot. I was stressed out, burned out, and missing out on motherhood. My biggest regret is that I didn’t dive in and take better care of myself while I was in these trenches. I let shame dictate my life.
I had indeed lived through some quite intense times; my therapist suggested there were situations in which I was being triggered. Once again, the implication wasn’t that there was anything wrong with me, or that I wasn’t doing the right things, only that I needed the right tools to regulate my physical and emotional reactions. She suggested that I consider medication in addition to therapy. At first, I couldn’t imagine it. I’ve heard stories of moms forgetting chunks of their days, turning manic, or becoming suicidal. I was afraid. What if it made me even worse? On the other hand, I considered, what if it helped me?
One of my redeeming qualities has always been that I will do anything for the people I love. This time, it meant getting out of my own way. I took the medication. Guess what happened? My heart stopped racing when I heard loud noises. I stopped seeing red. I generally could think clearly instead of raging at my children. I could feel joy again, not just over the big things, but also in everyday, ordinary things.
I wanted to write this to tell you to take care of yourself, mama. Make that therapy appointment. Find that childcare so that you can do what you need to do. Take the medication. Ask for help. Take the time to feel what you need—shame, anger, sadness, and then take one more step.
One goal I have as a mother is to show my kids that their mental health matters. Mental health IS health. I start by sharing, and by showing them mine does too.
by Keegan Taylor 
