Confessions of a Workaholic Mom
The art of work-life balance for high achieving women
It was one of the most important meetings of my life. There were more CEOs and executives in the Zoom room than unread emails in my inbox. I’d worked hard to earn a place in this room and deserved to be here. It was now my time to shine in a virtual room full of ‘elites,’ to show my worth and value as an exceptional contributor. I began my well-rehearsed spiel. I felt confident and in control.
Then mid-sentence, out of the corner of my eye I noticed my office door slowly start to open. My concentration momentarily waned, yet I didn’t skip a beat, picking up the pace as I spoke. An internal alarm was unconsciously triggered as I saw tiny fingers push the door wide open. There stood my naked three-year-old daughter, wearing nothing but a hat.
Out of sight of my camera and well below the Zoom screen my hands were shooing my child away much like I’d shoo a fly away from my sandwich at a picnic, all whilst my face remained a pillar of collected calm. But I couldn’t stop her, the vigor of my hand gestures were no match for the tornado that approached.
She came closer and closer until her pudgy chocolate-cookie-stained face was clearly in view to all in the meeting. She squished her face next to mine and looked directly into the camera, before announcing in a high-pitched squeal,
“Mooooooooom, I need to poo.”
Needless to say, a tiny part of me died that day. Despite my years of effort to demonstrate my competency and professionalism, working like I didn’t have children and delivering greater outputs than those fifteen years my junior with no parental responsibilities, five words from my three-year-old helped to dissolve my credibility.
Successfully being all to everyone — a loyal employee, high achiever, visionary, innovator, attentive mother and wife meant I’d spent years of my life working horrendously long days running on coffee and wine. Having respect in my workplace whilst being available for bedtime stories, school recitals and after school sports meant I had to give up ‘me time.’
I remember my husband desperately encouraging me to go to bed as I sat working in the dark on my laptop into the early hours of the morning, most nights of the week. I’d be catching up on the work I’d missed because I wanted to be both a great mum and respected in my field. I was known in my workplace as the responsive one, regularly responding to emails at 3am. I was capable and always delivered.
On the other hand, my best friend would often refer to me as ‘Super Mom.’ I did the crafts, I ran around at the park, I played hide and seek, made play dough and baked over the top birthday cakes. I never wanted my kids to suffer because I as their mother also had a strong motivation and drive to achieve professionally.
This pattern of over compensation went on for a number of years, up until I was at an interstate work conference, pulling 18-hour days all week long. At the end of the week my body gave up, like my fuel tank had completely run out of gas. I lost my memory, I lost my voice, my body was weak and I literally couldn’t get out of bed.
My body and mind were done.
I could no longer work like I wasn’t a stay-at-home mom and I could no longer parent like I wasn’t a full-time work-from-home employee.
I had broken.
I’d never really failed at anything, so when I found myself lying in bed, in a place where I could no longer give anything, I was forced to reassess everything.
Why did I work so much?
Who was I trying to please?
Why was I willing to completely destroy my body for the sake of my work?
Answers to these questions didn’t come quickly or easily. It was almost as though I had to break myself down to my core to start a journey of self-discovery. Herein I discerned that much of my self-worth was derived from the praise and positive opinions from people I didn’t really know or respect.
I recognized that I’d been working hard day in, day out, giving beyond what was required of me. I’d deliberately aimed to exceed expectations in the quiet hope of recognition, which often never came. Thus, the cycle would continue whereby I’d work harder and longer to try and impress people who didn’t really care about me or the work I was doing.
Relationships I’d developed over years of collaborative work fell away when I was no longer of use to people. I had to work through grief when I realized colleagues, who I’d believed to be good friends, did not actually consider me a friend, but a useful resource in their journey up the corporate ladder.
Through this time of burnout and reflection I started to unpack what ‘work’ meant for me. Excelling in my work had always been a pillar of my identity. Work energized me, gave me a sense of purpose and belonging. For me, loving my work didn’t mean that I didn’t love and prioritize my kids. It had just meant that I’d felt I had to work harder and longer to be the best in both worlds.
However, what I’ve now acknowledged is that somewhere, amidst all the achieving and striving, I’d lost my purpose. As a 16-year-old starting university my path was clear — I wanted to care for people and I wanted to help people. Through brokenness and burnout I knew I needed to go back to the basics and to the core of who I am and refocus on the one thing I want to do through my work — make other people’s lives better.
Recognition and accolade mean nothing if I’m not making a positive difference to an individual.
Refining my focus has liberated me. I now embrace my daughter when she walks into a zoom meeting, albeit I generally encourage her to have some clothes on! I more often than not stop work by dinner time. I acknowledge and embrace the fact that I am both a mom and a worker, so sometimes I’ll miss a deadline or I won’t answer an email after-hours.
I’m not afraid to tell my boss that I have to clock out to take my child to an appointment. I say ‘no’ a lot more and tend to avoid meetings that won’t help me to help others. I don’t expend energy on fake relationships, I shrug off the opinions of people I don’t know and avoid name dropping.
I’ve found a new lease on my work (and home) life by peeling back the layers, going back to the basics and figuring out what is most important to me.
My family
Caring for people
Helping people
All the other ‘stuff’ that clouds my vision has been demoted on my priority list.
If you’re in a similar place of juggling, striving and giving out of an empty tank, I’d encourage you to take the time to go back to basics. Reassess your reason for work, and filter out the ‘noise’ to make way for real value that reflects what’s most important to you.
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