Showing Up whatever the “Style”
Finding Grace Beyond Mom Guilt: A Journey from Shame to Conviction
My story will continue to unfold in pieces as my heart becomes words—slowly but surely. I've always known words are powerful, but I never understood that thinking them held the same power as saying them. I began to look inward at a feeling of high expectations producing anxiety and guilt. Where I notice this impact most in myself is in the persistent "mom guilt" I have sought and fought to avoid since becoming a mother.
I served as a birth and postpartum doula for a while—and still do—though my private business is currently in gestation itself. During my time with new or newly expanded families, I noticed a consistent theme of mom guilt. Even among amazingly capable and well-equipped mothers, guilt is unavoidable when attachment and love are bonded so primally. I am no different.
Different than what?
Other humans.
Humanity is difficult to define. I've learned to define it as "me too." I, too, am capable of both destruction and the building of dreams, visions, societies, and people. I can do good or harm. I also have free will, so the choice is mine.
I have learned:
Shame is the belief that I am fundamentally bad, and therefore cannot avoid doing bad things that hurt people.
Guilt is the feeling that I have done something that caused—or could have caused—harm to someone I love; therefore, I am at fault, though I may not fully understand why. Now I feel indebted.
Conviction is knowing what I did wrong and understanding that I am capable of making a mistake and choosing differently next time.
Mom guilt is not biblical. I am realistically accountable and human. God understands me and my limitations, so why do I expect myself to be without them when He does not?
Convicting.
In life, I have been through a few things, all of which have taught me important lessons. Each has affected my health, including my physical development and adult functioning. This includes the brain. I have undergone therapeutic treatment aimed at correcting developmental adaptations learned when survival takes priority over enjoyment.
My daughter is now three and growing quickly.
I have always sought to enjoy her. For me, this means that through everything I was carrying—trauma, symptoms affecting functioning, rebuilding, attempting to heal, and often returning to survival mode—I still made space to show up.
This is something I promised myself from a young age: I would always show up. I am grateful to my late father, Mark, who taught me this through his example. He valued commitment, and I am passing that value on to my daughter, Sage, through modeling. Some things are lifelong commitments. For me, my faith is a lifelong commitment to show up, even when it is hard.
And it gets (very) hard.
Today, I am lying on my soft grey sofa with an extra cozy blanket, feeling the relief of taking my as-needed prescription for anxiety and depression symptoms. I am experiencing physical symptoms of depression, and I also understand them—so I am coping. Not long ago, I was in the moment of my daughter crying to the point where she said, "My body doesn't feel good." Her crying was in response to the boundary I held around one episode of The Creature Cases.
Now she is eating frozen grapes and dancing to Bluey songs.
Why?
Because I showed up in my own way, with clear boundaries in her best interest. I was present during a breakdown, gave her the freedom to choose within the parameters I set, supported her desire for frozen grapes, and turned on soothing music for both of our benefit.
Did I think:
“Wow, I did a great job.”
“I’m really proud of how I handled that.”
“I’m so grateful I’ve learned to be such a good mom.”
No.
Did I feel love, compassion, celebration, and comfort?
Not really.
I felt guilt—confused about why—full of self-doubt, and it was beginning to turn into shame.
I thought in “I shoulds” and “I should haves.”
Analyzing.
Criticizing.
Then, thank God therapy exists, I came to see it for what it was:
I am being really hard on myself.
This realization came after I told my daughter, “You can do whatever you want within the parameters I set. This is free time.”
Free time. (I’ll come back to this.)
I want to focus on an important point: celebration is healthy.
I did a great job. With everything I am carrying right now in my personal life, not letting it take me away from my daughter—who needs me—is the first victory. Then, using skills I am still practicing, because I am either still learning them or have been out of practice due to survival mode in my parenting.
This is a victory, if I ever saw one.
Do I wish I had the energy to get up and dance with her?
Of course I do.
Without judgment, is today the day the stars aligned?
No. Honestly, with gratitude in place of judgment, I can say no.
Am I grateful to have my daughter with me?
Yes.
Would I rather feel guilty or grateful?
Grateful—and I do. Because I am a human doing the best I can, and I can always do better. This reflects a concept spoken by Marsha Linehan, creator of Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT).
I’ll leave you with this, as I often remind myself, as my dad once did:
Words matter; use the right ones.
Actions have consequences. Choose the right actions to understand the “why” for the next one.
And lastly, from me: be brave and be kind to yourself.
Blessings,
Tess Von Kaam
