Are We Asking Too Much As Mothers?
Too many women feel not worthy of having their needs met — or, that asking for what they want isn’t safe. Here's how to undo this brainwashing.
It’s not unreasonable to want space and time to breathe life into your identities outside of motherhood and partnership, Beth Berry writes. After 29 years of mothering and a decade of working with women, she’s heard stories. Last week, Beth wrote about the problems of ‘Conscious Parenting,’ in a culture that provides little tangible support to moms. Beth is a the founder of Revolution From Home, an author, coach, and a mother of four daughters. In this piece, she helps us understand the narratives around our desires and the idea of mother’s guilt — and gently offers a healthier and more empowering reframe. Because denying your own humanity is not the path of motherhood we need to follow, despite what we hear so often.
Yet, for all the years she’s been a mom, she’d lived according to an unconscious agreement that she’s not “allowed” to have some of her basic needs and desires met.
I’ll never forget the moment when I realized the degree to which we’re conditioned as mothers to deny our own humanity.
I was leading my very first retreat and we were having a conversation about the importance of understanding and prioritizing our needs (I’m defining needs here as the things, feelings, and conditions we must have in order to be minimally satisfied with our lives). One woman listened to me describe a need of my own (for time alone with no pre-planned agenda), and responded with a heartfelt, teary-eyed…
“Wow, I didn’t even know I was allowed to need that.”
This was a bright, devoted, intentional mother. An intelligent, wholehearted, grown ass woman. Yet, for all the years she’s been a mom, she’s lived according to an unconscious agreement that she’s not “allowed” to have some of her basic needs and desires met.
Of course, it wouldn’t have hit me so hard if it hadn’t been unconscious conditioning that I, too, have had to work my way out of.
Since then, in nearly every group I facilitate, mothers make similar statements:
“It makes no sense on a logical level, but in some way, it feels like I’m asking too much by wanting time alone in my home or the occasional uninterrupted nap. I used to have so much agency. I don’t know what happened once I became a mom.”
“As a feminist, I hate admitting it, but I often hesitate to ask my husband to do more around the house (or actually PLAN something). Embarrassingly, I feel nervous just thinking about it.”
“Since my second son was born, joy and lightness feel elusive. It’s almost like I’m waiting for permission (from whom, I have no idea). Or like until I earn an ‘A+’ in mothering, I’m not worthy of joy. But I’m a ‘B-’ mom on my best days right now, so…no lightness for me.”
There’s a theme running through these statements. In each case, the mother feels either that she’s not worthy of having her needs met, or that asking for what she wants and needs isn’t safe on some level.
In each case, the mother feels either that she’s not worthy of having her needs met, or that asking for what she wants and needs isn’t safe on some level.
Our needs and longings as mothers are actually quite simple. They’re reasonable. They make sense.
Having heard thousands of stories from hundreds of mothers through the years, and despite how it may seem, I can assure you:
Our needs and longings as mothers are actually quite simple. They’re reasonable. They make sense.
We want to feel safe and secure.
We want to feel seen and heard and valued and supported.
We want space and time to breathe life into identities outside of motherhood and partnership.
We want to be able to rest regularly, knowing that our kids are being well cared for in our absence.
We want to feel light and free and without responsibilities at least occasionally.
Basically, we want our humanity honored and our wellness supported. And we actually need those things in order to thrive (and not merely survive).
The reason our needs and desires feel so complex and we wonder if we’re asking too much is because…
We’re constantly being told what we’re worthy of (clear skin, cute clothes, nice cars, and more organized closets, for example), which distracts us from what we’re worthy and actually in need of (see list above). Then, once we’ve amassed all the things we’re told we’re worthy of, much of our time and energy is spent managing, organizing, and working to pay for those non-essential things.
We’re wired for connection. We’re afraid of what might happen to our marriages and families if we begin to admit that we’re not okay with the way things are; that we want more and better for ourselves. Younger, fearful parts of us would rather tolerate suboptimal circumstances than risk the loss of a sense of belonging. Making waves can actually feel unsafe in our bodies, even when our minds know better.
We’re conditioned to think we have to earn worthiness through achievement and perfection. And because in the absence of the village we’re filling the roles meant for many community members (even more so during the pandemic, of course), we feel less perfect in our parenting than ever. We internalize the story that we’re inadequate instead of that we’re tragically unsupported by a society that values profits over people.
In the absence of the village we’re filling the roles meant for many community members. We internalize the story that we’re inadequate instead of that we’re tragically unsupported by a society that values profits over people.
We recognize our privilege and feel guilty when we dare to ask for more. We slip into comparative suffering which ultimately serves no one and keeps us stuck.
We’re taught to spiritually bypass and look at the bright side! While finding things to be grateful for is beautiful and important, an over-reliance on this reaction to adverse circumstances actually serves to protect systems of oppression and keep us stuck in situations that aren’t good for us or aligned with the people we’re becoming.
Our own mothers often don’t validate our needs, as many of them have built a sense of identity around their ability to endure and tolerate as much as possible. Our wanting more can feel threatening to their self-narrative.
We need support (often in the form of therapy) in order to be able to examine and better our relationships, yet many partners are unwilling to “do the work,” themselves, and/or therapy feels financially inaccessible.
Society is structured not to ensure wellness and thriving, but favors profits and power for a tiny percentage of people.
We’re often gaslit (by those who maintain power by not examining inequality) into thinking having needs at all makes us selfish, needy, and a burden to others.
“The village” feels like a pipe dream (not to mention too exhausting to create), so we settle for shallow satiation of our desires (like social media), which has us even more susceptible to the worthiness distractions being pumped out by consumer culture.
Epigenetics, which is essentially the study of how our behaviors and environment can cause changes that affect the way our genes work, shows us that trauma (caused by living through war, starvation, or enslavement, for example) can be passed from one generation to the next. Our ancestors’ felt sense of safety or lack thereof, for example, is quite literally passed down through our lineage until someone in the family line breaks the chain through healing.
We’re often gaslit into thinking having needs at all makes us selfish, needy, and a burden to others. But it is not unreasonable to want to feel safe and secure; to be seen and heard; to be validated and supported; to have time and space to breathe; and to be able to rest regularly!
We’re not asking for too much.
So it isn’t that we’re asking too much or that we’re not worthy of our needs met, but that the combination of our conditioning, our genetic inheritance, our biological tendencies, and the structure of society all add up to the feeling that it’s not safe or worthwhile to admit to and/or advocate for our needs.
In order for us to eventually change these toxic structures, norms, and narratives and better meet our needs personally and collectively (for the good of us all), we must come to believe our needs truly matter, see our longings as wise and worthy guides, and prioritize the healing work necessary to free ourselves from the burden of lived and inherited trauma.
Dear mother full of longings and desires: You are not asking too much that you need and/or want…
Regular time away from your children.
Regular time away from your partner.
Time alone in your own home.
To be acknowledged for the invisible and emotional labor you do and the value it has within your family and community.
A fulfilling career and a strong attachment with your children.
Emotional intimacy in your partnership and emotional maturity in your partner.
A partner who doesn’t weaponize their feigned incompetence and/or ignorance.
A rich, safe community of support for you and your family.
Equity in your partnership.
To feel regularly seen, heard, understood, and validated by those within your innermost circles.
To have time for your creative endeavors and personal expression.
To have regular breaks from chaos and the needs of others so that you’re better able to regulate your emotions and respond to life from your values.
Alloparents and mentors for your children.
Affordable, quality childcare.
A holistic education for your kids that honors their unique needs.
We must learn to recognize the too-small-for-us narratives we’ve internalized, and become skilled at shifting the meaning we’re making about our lives.
This part is key, however:
We have to learn to separate our worthiness of having our needs met from the challenge of getting them met under our current circumstances.
When these two are all jumbled up in our minds and hearts, it’s easy to minimize our needs and longings, get cynical, and/or grow despondent, especially when the culture and people around us aren’t validating our worthiness.
We must learn to recognize the too-small-for-us narratives we’ve internalized, and become skilled at shifting the meaning we’re making about our lives, over and over again.
Here are some examples of how to do this:
Example #1:
Initial thought: I really want my partner to acknowledge all the emotional labor I take on for our family. But given that I know almost no mothers whose emotional labor is acknowledged, maybe I’m asking too much. Maybe I ought to quit expecting so much of him and be grateful for the kindness my partner does extend to me. He’s definitely more aware than his own dad was.
Reframe: I really want my partner to acknowledge all the emotional labor I take on for our family. I recognize that he did not have this modeled for him, however, so I will need to be patient with his process. I also know I am worthy of being seen, so I will continue to hold him accountable and not tolerate weaponized incompetence or ignorance. I will get the support I need in order to speak my truth, set healthy boundaries, and better understand my reactions and sensitivities. I can’t know where this will lead me, but staying true to myself is essential no matter the outcome.
Example #2:
Initial thought: I chose to stay home with the kids; I asked for this, so I have no business complaining about my circumstances and unmet needs.
Reframe: I chose to stay home with the kids and I had no idea what all I was agreeing to when I made that choice. Even though it’s common for moms to set their own needs aside in order to center their family’s needs, this isn’t a version of motherhood I’m willing to model for my kids. I am worthy of meeting my own needs regardless of whether or not I’m bringing in income, and unpaid labor is just as important as paid labor. It’s time to create some new agreements based on what I know, see, and need today, and not based on the limited understanding I had going into motherhood.
Example #3:
Initial thought: Other moms seem to have it figured out. Why can’t I seem to get my shit together? I guess I’m just not working hard enough. Maybe I need to be more organized, and clearly I need more self-discipline.
Reframe: In the absence of the village, and given the distorted version of reality being portrayed on social media and in advertising, it’s easy to feel isolated in the experience of motherhood. This isolation, combined with the lies of perfectionism being cranked out by those who profit off of our insecurities, is resulting in millions of mothers struggling with the same lie: that our personal inadequacy is the reason it all feels so hard. The truth is that the more trust, safety, and intimacy I’m able to build with people who share my values, the easier it is to keep these lies at bay. I don’t need more discipline, I need more support.
I don’t need more discipline, I need more support.
The work of acknowledging and orienting our lives around our true worthiness can be a messy, painful process, but it’s important for us and future generations.
The work of acknowledging and orienting our lives around our true worthiness can be a messy, painful process, but the rewards are no less impactful (to ourselves and to generations to come) than the traumas we’ve inherited have been.
Here are a few tools to help support your process:
Set your worthiness standards according to the world you’re here to help co-create, not the current status quo standards which were never designed to support your (nor your family’s) wellness and thriving.
Make space for grief. We all need something to fill the gap between the realities we know we’re worthy of and the reality that currently exists. Though many fill this gap with drinking, scrolling, anger, avoidance, and other coping strategies, I’ve come to see grief as the healthiest, most life-giving gap-filler. Personal grief rituals and community grief practices act as a balm for our heavy hearts, increase our capacity to hold paradox, and help us make space for dreams and visions of a better tomorrow.
Ask yourself the following questions, often: Is this the version of motherhood/womanhood that I’m eager to pass down to my kids? Are they worthy of better? What are they worthy of me modeling for them?
Spend time with non-mothers. Many people who aren’t accustomed to constant caretaking are (naturally) more practiced at centering their own needs and desires than we are as moms. Non-mothers can help remind us of what we’ve buried and validate the load we’re carrying in a way that other mothers (who are conditioned similarly to us) sometimes can’t.
Find people who truly see and honor you. Not everyone has the capacity to see and honor your worthiness, particularly if they haven’t come to see and honor their own. Your people are out there and worth taking the time to find.
Be willing to make a mess. Once we unearth and crack open the door on the (sometimes deeply buried) vault of our needs and desires, we often imagine that we won’t be able to keep them from pouring out and making a mess of our lives. It can help to realize that sometimes messes are good and necessary. Keeping things tidy often requires living in denial.
Pace yourself. Whenever possible as you grow and heal, move at the pace of your nervous system’s cues. You are worthy of feeling good now, regardless of where you are in your process. Pushing yourself too fast through a healing process can often be re-wounding.
Play the long game. In these times of instant gratification, it’s easy to fall under the spell of “I’m aware of this now, therefore I should be able to fix it now.” But much of this is generational work. The social structures and cultural narratives we’re up against will take time to rework and improve.
If we let them, capitalism, patriarchy, and white supremacy will assume total control of our worthiness narratives. “Generously” they’ll try to convince us that we’re worthy of so many things that we don’t actually need, which distracts us from the longings we have for that which is truly life-giving. The quickest way things are going to improve is for more of us to remember what we’re actually worthy of:
Systems, structures, norms, narratives, and relationships that honor our humanity and support our thriving.
You’re definitely not asking for too much.
— Beth Berry
This October, join Beth Berry and Sarah Peck at a retreat to nourish the mothers, leaders, and wisdom keepers of our communities. We’ll rest, play, and laugh in the beautiful mountains of Bend of Ivy in Asheville, North Carolina. Our in-person retreats are one of the sweetest times of the entire year. Join us at the Nourished Leaders Retreat. Prices go up in July.
About Beth Berry
Beth Berry is an author, coach, teacher, adventurer, mother of four daughters, and hopelessly hopeful human. Her favorite clients are mothers who are fed up with status quo parenting and ready to rewrite the ‘rules' so that thriving, empowerment, and joy feel more accessible. Many of her clients don’t (yet) realize it, but in addition to being intentional mothers and conscious women, they are cycle-breakers, visionaries, leaders, and healers in the making. Most are wholly committed to doing good in the world but so overwhelmed by our chaotic culture, its many distorted messages, and the way it overburdens caregivers, that they often feel frozen with indecision, critical of their efforts, and overwhelmed with grief and unmet needs.
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She’s here to help them see their needs, desires, saboteurs, and superpowers more clearly so that they can make the difference they’re here to make, even if that’s simply within the walls of their homes. www.revolutionfromhome.com. Check her workshops, replays, and offerings on her website. Here’s her Instagram and Facebook to follow along.