How full are your mum jugs?

Have we all got so used to chronic stress that we don't even see it?

Years ago, a friend’s partner was sectioned. He was on the roof when the ambulance came. The medical team that looked after him explained to my friend that the brain is like a jug, it fills up and up and up, and once it’s reached capacity, it simply cannot take any more and will spill over.

This image stayed with me, somewhere in the back of my mind.

And now I am a mother, I keep thinking about that jug.

I worry about how many of us are doing motherhood with that jug dangerously close to the top. Mainly because of what everyone else is pouring into it.

Imagine layers, like a deadly trifle. At the bottom: the relentless logistics. Cooking, laundry, cleaning, life admin, the load.

Then the emotional and physical needs of our children. The carrying, soothing, organising, anticipating.

Then work. Or whatever we’re trying to build, hold together or become.

And finally, balanced precariously on the top, the tiny sliver left for us: our hopes, dreams, passions.

They all take up space.

Pic: Frankie dressed as a mermaid with pink denim jacket (I’m not going to defend my 3 year old’s right to sparkly joy), Rafa as a skater boy and Jerry looking preppy trying to ditch the jacket as we walk back home.

The scary part? Nothing stressful had even happened

The other day I went to a yoga class that had a sound bath at the end. For those of you who haven’t tried it, it’s basically lying down on yoga mats whilst someone makes music from different percussion and crystal bowls. The frequency of the sound they create dominates the room and your body - you can physically feel sound. A bit like when you’re standing too close to the speakers at a rave and can feel the bass. It’s mind-blowing and incredibly relaxing. I checked my Garmin when I left, so soporific I was worried how I’d drive home. My stress levels had dropped by 70% in an 60 minutes.

That’s not the shocking part, the bit I couldn’t get my head around was that it hadn’t been a particularly stressful day. Sure, looking after three cocky, boisterous three-year-olds isn’t easy, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.

And that’s the point. Mums are so used to high levels of stress, we’ve normalised them to the point they are like wallpaper. I don’t even particularly notice it. But my sports watch is there all the time measuring my variable heart rate. It don’t lie.

For it even to be possible to have a 70% drop, I must have been pretty close to that jug being full before I walked into that class. And I didn’t even realise it.

Could we be sleep-walking into maternal breakdowns?

When stress stops feeling like stress and just feels like life

I’ve started reading up on motherhood and chronic stress - not the reactive spikes e.g. when Jerry stepped into the road without looking last week and a black Fiesta slammed on the breaks - but that constant background stress.

If you were totally honest right now, what do you think your background level would be?

Here’s an idea. What if you monitored it for a few days? Do you think it would stay constant or dip? Would it be different on a day in the office or a day at home with the kids? Which would be more stressful?

As I type, my husband has just got back from a long commute and a day in the office but honestly, if you’d seen my boys going feral in the library this morning. And the Olympic-level negotiation required to get coats and wellies back on without any public property being destroyed, you’d have no doubt which one of us had the more stressful day.

I’m going to be going deeper into how mums can look after their nervous systems over the next few weeks, but for now, here are things I’m doing when I notice my stress levels ramp up.

Stopping my stress spirals

During a terrible morning last week, in which I’d already barked “clean your teeth” and “put your shoes on” so many times it had become completely futile, I walked away. We were going to be late anyway. I did a few yoga stretches, and came back calmer, with the mental strength to get through the rest of getting them in the van.

Mid-behaviour battles, I’ve also started singing or humming. The boys were all tired and demanding to be carried as we walked home from town today. Whining every step of the way. Until I started singing the colours of the rainbow. Then everyone joined in, we were kind of singing in rounds because everyone just started when they liked but we were soon home.

When they were babies, I used to sing to them constantly. Even in NICU, I would hold them and sing “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley. Looking back, I think I was trying to convince myself that “every little thing is gonna be alright” more than them.

But in all cases, when I interrupt my own stress response and calm myself first, they can then come down to my levels instead of me shooting up to theirs. You don’t want toddlers driving that bus!

How full is your jug right now?

Do you think motherhood has normalised stress levels that would once have felt like serious red flags?

Tell me in the comments. I have a feeling a lot of us are carrying far more than we realise.

I write raw about motherhood and mum guilt. I’m not afraid to write it as I see it. Subscribe for more.