Surrendering the Martyred Motherhood

You pick up the phone, you put it down.

You see the text asking if you need anything, and you reply, "I am fine."

Who else has been there? You need a break and want a break, even just another adult in the room with you,

but you just can't seem to say it. You just can't ask for help.

I absolutely hated asking for help with anything related to our kids and our home. I often joked

my phone was keeping me from asking—as if it was made of cement and I could not physically

pick it up. I was raised with a suck it up kind of attitude—if you can't handle it, just do better

and work harder. So, as a mother of 5, I naturally fell into the general line of thinking that you

created this life; it is your responsibility. I mistakenly thought that we could just do it on our

own. I felt that I could organize my world out of asking for outside help.

But the root of my avoidance of help, the profound, ugly, and uncomfortable truth, was pride. In

asking for help, pride told me, "You are not enough. You are weak. You are unworthy." And by

fuelling this lie and avoiding asking for help, I created a world where my martyrdom was the

measuring stick. Being a "good" mom meant doing it on my own.

And I am not the only one going alone. In Glennon Doyle's book, Untamed, she said, "Mothers

have martyred themselves in their children's names since the beginning of time. We have lived as

if she who disappears the most loves the most. We have been conditioned to prove our love by

slowly ceasing to exist." My Mom taught me this, and so did her mother, and so on down the

line. But the more I gave, the further I stretched beyond my capacity and the more tired, angry,

resentful, and unfulfilled, I felt. After years of pushing too far and existing too little in work, life,

and parenting—I knew I just had to pick up the phone.

To choose to exist, rest, and truly live out my own dreams and passions, I first needed to

recognize and accept that I do not need to martyr myself. I am worthy of help. I am worthy of

rest. I am worthy.

So I dug in, asked for what I needed from others, and began accepting genuine help. I let go of

my pride and guilt. I finally embraced the infinite abundance that life could offer when in

community with others. In the giving and receiving of genuine help, my life and the life of my

children were enriched. In asking family to watch our kids for a night away or hiring someone to

clean my house, I was no longer asking for a break or admitting defeat; I was inviting a

community of friends and family into my life in a whole new way. Asking for help has not

diminished my worth. I have surrendered, and I have accepted that our interdependence is what

enriches us all and increases our worth.

The beauty of accepting and receiving help is that it starts to come to you in infinite ways. I

opened myself to receiving support and offered help in new ways I had never even thought of.

I am no longer defined by what I do but by what I choose to do. What I choose to do now is invite

my village to support my family and me in what fulfills us as individuals and as a family. I am

choosing to surrender to my worth, village, and passions but not the motherhood martyrdom

anymore.

This essay was originally printed in OBAAHIMA Spring 2022. Purchase your copy here.