I am currently writing this from a holiday flat in Burgenland, Austria, sitting on a sofa by myself and feeling guilty. Yet again.

Let me back up a little. My husband got the opportunity to work in their Vienna office for a few days, and we decided to tag along for a mini-holiday, as my grandfather and grandmother (from different parental sides) happen to live in the surroundings of Vienna.

Over the weekend, we went to Purbach where my grandfather lives, and tonight Jakob left for Vienna by train and I will drive south to my grandmother tomorrow by myself with the kids.

Having set the background, tonight I knew I had to put the kids to bed by myself, as Jakob left on the train after dinner. And I dreaded it. Not because of the bringing-two-kids-into-bed part. But because I knew I wasn’t up for it. It’s extremely muggy and hot here, I’ve been sweating all day, we visited plenty of family, the kids – therefore – are overwhelmed, I am overwhelmed, and I knew I didn’t have the energy to settle their heightened needs for all the excitement.

I know Lily gets overwhelmed easily and today consisted of having breakfast with my grandfather, going to the playground, going to two cousins with their kids and a bunch of new toys, going to lunch at my grandfather’s, then going to ANOTHER cousin with their kids and a pool and lots of toys, then having dinner and my grandpa’s PLUS play with some cousins.

I mean, I get overwhelmed just writing about it. And my kids are great on outings. They barely have tantrums, they play nicely, they are a joy to be around… UNTIL we get home and ALL their emotions can tumble free, like a freaking pinata that gets whacked.

And here is the problem: I was at my grandfather’s and many cousins’ houses today (and it was lovely), I went to the playground and played all day long, I made sure their needs were being met, I felt hot and tired – and now I am supposed to be in a position to soften and support all these big emotions of them and stay calm and collected? Very unlikely.

To make it short. Today for bedtime, I screamed, I shamed (partly myself), I gave the silent-treatment, I cried in front of my kids, I told my daughter that she ruined everything – I did everything text-book-style of what NOT to do. And the worst part, while I was doing it, I KNEW it was wrong, I KNEW I should change gears, I KNEW I was the only one who could have turned it around.

And yet, I couldn’t. I simply didn’t have the energy or stamina left. And I feel guilty not only because I became verbally violent with them, but because it is MY JOB to take care of my needs so I can take care of theirs.

The Problem with Self-Care, Though

I know there is a lot of self-care on social media, most of which is pretty bullshit in my opinion (like the notion that taking an uninterrupted shower qualifies as self-care), but filling your own cup is essential to being a good mum. As they say, Happy Mum, Happy Baby – and I truly feel that.

However, I sadly know that self-care, as proclaimed by social media, isn’t an hour-long break, or even a day away, or sitting down with a cup of tea, or hiring a cleaning lady once a month – all of these can help, but self-care starts with your inner self. Your anxiety levels, your triggers, in short, your mental health. I don’t know about other mums, but it’s not just that I feel like I’m often not enjoying motherhood, but life in general. Everything feels like a chore, even writing, blogging, vlogging, playing the guitar – things that filled me with joy once.

And I didn’t lose the joy in them when I became a mother, that happened before. I lost my inner child long before I had my children, but I know that reconnecting with my inner child is the key to becoming the mother I desperately want to be and my kids deserve.

So What To Do From Here?

You may wonder now where this blog post is headed at – and the answer is very unsatisfying. Nowhere. I am sorry, this isn’t a blog post that will tell you that I started to meditate, eat my greens, cut coffee (I never drank coffee to start with) and suddenly I transformed into this amazing being and mother.

Because. This. DOESN’T. Work. I’m sorry to break it to you. It takes more than that to work on your triggers and the painful loss of your inner child. The voice inside you that makes you write the story, paint the painting, read the book, pick up the guitar – the playful you, the one that wants to do play dough, have a tickle fight or read the new book.

I know this may sound depressing and hopeless (but it isn’t). The only point of me writing this today is because I want to share something from my actual life that makes me vulnerable. Not curated for social media, not the happy picture book where the nicest memories are kept together in joviality. Needs are not as sexy as happy memories, nor as Instagrammable as them. Needs are like broccoli or whole-grain bread. They may appear boring from the outside, but once you integrate them in your life, magic happens to your body and soul (well, among other things of course, this is a metaphor, please don’t only eat broccoli and whole-grain bread from this moment forward).

Needs being met is what makes a family…tadaaaa, happy. And not only happy in the picture-book-moment kind of happiness, but actual contentedness that may be interrupted by grief, anger, desperation and frustration, but always serves as a solid foundation. Needs being met is the glue for family life, it’s the oil so all the cogs in a machine can run smoothly.

Needless to say, (see what I did there), needs are very individual. Yours personally and those for your family. And while every family member’s needs are important, I can’t help but think that the mother’s needs met to be happy are the base for the family’s base (which is conveniently written by me, the mother). We might want to fight it (and it might be different in other families), but in all the families I know, the mother is the beating heart of the operation. So her needs REALLY matter.

Your needs, dear mother, really matter. Take care of yourself, and if you had a day like mine, shouted at your children, forgive yourself now and take care of yourself.

x, Anja