Recently I did a radio interview about working moms and talked about why I stopped working. My closest friends said I downplayed my nervous breakdown, making it sound like a really bad day (instead of a really bad year).
It’s true that I played it down. I was embarrassed. It’s one thing to write about it, it’s another to talk about it, live. On the radio. With a million people listening.
But I’ve realized that if I’m going to talk about what happened to me at all, I should be more specific. I should define what “nervous breakdown” meant in my case.
I’ll start with what it did not mean. I did not feel suicidal or psychotic. I did not get strung out on heroin, walk around downtown Berkeley yelling at garbage cans, or act outwardly crazy in any way.
I simply stopped, the way a watch stops when the battery dies. I couldn’t get my body to obey what my mind kept saying it should do. One Monday, I was giving a presentation to a potential new client. On Tuesday, I was at home on my couch weeping, incapacitated. I never went back to work. I never even cleaned out my files.
I didn’t plan to stop going to the job I’d had for the last six years. But when I thought about going to work, I felt I would vomit.
I spent the next few months in a profound despair, plagued by panic attacks, insomnia, and dread. I couldn’t stand noise—including the sound of the car radio on low, or my children splashing contentedly in the bath. I would randomly burst into violent shaking. I lost my appetite, and with it, an alarming amount of weight. My aunt flew out from New Jersey to help take care of the kids during the worst of it. My husband, I would like to state for the record, was as solid as a rock. He somehow kept working, took care of the kids, and took care of me until I could start to think again.
It was like waking from a cult. I wasn’t angry with anyone. I didn’t blame anyone. I just couldn’t believe I’d gone along with the whole thing, the whole terrible annihilating belief that you should give it all away—to your kids, to your job, to anyone who seemed to have a legitimate claim on your energy and your time. The whole idea that this was normal, even expected, behavior. It was horrifying to realize I’d let that happen.
This all started almost a year ago. The last 11 months have been about backing away from that edge, and making sense of what happened to me.
I don’t know exactly when I decided to call it a nervous breakdown. My doctor doesn’t like the term, which has no specific medical meaning. This is what Wikipedia says:
Although “nervous breakdown” does not necessarily have a rigorous or static definition, surveys of laypersons suggest that the term refers to a specific acute time-limited reactive disorder, involving symptoms such as anxiety or depression, usually precipitated by external stressors.
That sounds about right to me. I literally pushed myself to a point where my nervous system stopped working the way it’s supposed to. What else would you call it?
In the 1800s, it was common for women with insomnia, loss of appetite, and nervousness to be diagnosed with “female hysteria.” Treatment included bed rest, bland food, avoiding mentally taxing activities (like reading) and—this one is interesting—orgasms.
This term faded out in the 1900s and was replaced with more specific terms like “depression,” “conversion disorder,” and “anxiety attacks.”
Feminist pioneer, Betty Friedan
In The Feminine Mystique, (1963) Betty Friedan described the “problem that has no name,” the profound unhappiness, depression, fatigue, and lack of meaning many women suffered while they were supposedly living the American Dream. Most women, she noted, suffered alone.
How can any woman see the whole truth within the bounds of her own life? How can she believe that voice inside herself, when it denies the conventional, accepted truths by which she has been living? And yet the women I have talked to, who are finally listening to that inner voice, seem in some incredible way to be groping through to a truth that has defied the experts.
That sounds about right, too.
Over the last year, as I’ve gotten more comfortable telling my story, many working moms have confided in me their own stories. Some of them had their own experience of giving and giving until they crashed into a mental and physical wall and had to stop working. Some haven’t crashed, but harbor a deep fear that they will; they know they’re dangerously close to their edge.
And some can’t even have this conversation because it would mean looking at things about their lives that they’re trying very hard not to see. They are suffering alone. I think I know how they feel. Because a year ago, I was one of them.
What’s your story?
Leave a comment at the end of this blog post. Or email me privately: katrina@workingmomsbreak.com
A slightly updated version of this story appeared on The Huffington Post in Nov. 2010.
{ 25 comments… read them below or add one }
It is no wonder that you got embarrassed discussing your breakdown on national radio. It’s just not something that we talk about. To talk openly and frankly about a personal problem feels like either feels like whining (which you posted about) or like confessing (and confessing means that we feel guilty…). But this gets back to the beginning of this whole problem, that it is our society that is driving women to this point of breakdown, not the flaws, insecurities and weaknesses of the women themselves.
You are very brave to tell your story so eloquently, please keep doing so. That way other women will know that it’s not themselves that are failing but this crazy world we are in.
I am certainly one of those women who is dangerously close to my edge. I feel like I am shouting out “this isn’t going to continue working; I simply can’t do this,” and people nod and maybe laugh and then call to see if I want to do a swap.
I just keep moving, ‘doing this’ and watch in wonder at how fine everyone else seems. I have been warned to not compare my insides to other people’s outsides, but I do. Thanks for putting your insides out there.
Katrina, I am so glad you told me about your blog and I LOVE it.
I read your first post at work (on my iPhone, in the bathroom, between meetings!) and it made me feel unbelievably validated.
I know you from your professional life, and see you as an incredible, smart, successful, kick a#$ woman who managed to do it all, never lose your composure (and you always looked terrific in your Anthropologie outfits, to boot!). Your honesty about what you went through is so brave, and it helps other working moms know we are not the only ones suffering in our attempts to balance it all and meet everyone’s needs and demands. The toll that this takes on us is not to be underestimated.
I was especially moved by what you wrote in your first post about how you talked to your friends, relatives, etc. and learned that they were “barely getting by.” I could have written this myself: “I had no idea. Like me, they had been putting a brave face on their suffering. Like me, they all assumed there was something wrong with them.”
I struggle every day trying to accomplish everything in a full-time non-profit job that really is the job of two or three people, and wonder what’s wrong with me that I can’t do it all with ease. I am utterly and completely exhausted beyond belief, and I feel guilty when I leave work “early” to pick up my child at daycare. I get online every night after my two-year-old goes to bed to do two or three more hours of work, but I feel I only have an all-or-nothing choice in my particular field: either quit my job completely, or continue at this pace.
It is frustrating that in many smaller organizations such as mine, there are no options that allow us to adjust our work to accommodate having a family. I know that I do a good job, and I essentially love what I do and am very fond of my co-workers, so I tell myself I need to learn to “deal with it.”
It was very validating to hear that other women, including you, have also gone through this, and I hope your blog can start something that can somehow, someday bring about change in the world of the working American mom.
That’s my post above, but the avatar image is wrong. Please ignore it!
Thank you, Dana and everyone who’s taking time to leave these comments. I know your time is precious, especially for the busy parents who are reading this. Many people have told me that the comments are really helpful to them–this isn’t just about my experience. Thank you, thank you.
About the avatar–they’re auto-generated. They only appear if you don’t upload a photo or image of your own.
Dads go through this too. It all started to come to a head when I left a nice quiet stable job and entered the videogame industry in 2007. Then my dad died in 2008. Last summer, I was off for three weeks and I broke down sobbing in front of my children. Literally over spilled milk.
I can’t tell you how thankful I am that you are sharing these stories. My boss was sooooo hostile to parents, I can’t even begin to describe. She would suggest that I was spending too much time picking up the kids and why couldn’t my wife do it? That was was over a year ago and I’m still not really over it.
Now I’ve started a new job in a different industry for more money and much less pressure. I’m fortunate. But the stress lives on. Every night, we rush to pick up the kids, do 2nd grade homework (second grade!) fix dinner and sprint to story/bedtime. A 3 hour dragnet that two working parents barely pull off. It’s insane. And the childless world simply shrugs it off: We made the bed. We gotta sleep in it.
Hi Katrina -
thanks for taking on this enormous subject and bringing in both the personal and the policy.
I have a few stories to share. I am an academic, a professor. I support myself primarily with grants as do 75% of the other professors in my department; many of us support ourselves 100% with grants. I wasn’t working 100% time when I had my first child, but I could afford not to be 100% financially. I didn’t realize until later that by not being 100% I was slowing myself down in terms of my professional advancement. No one looks at your resume and sees that you’re not working 100% year by year. They assume you must be working 100% and gauge your output accordingly.
After I had my first child, I took a 4 month maternity leave and returned to work part-time. I knew that if I stopped working for a year, I would destroy my research career. I had joined a mom’s group for support and encountered a number of women who had quit their jobs entirely because they are their spouses thought they were the best person to raise their child. I didn’t necessarily think that I was the best person to be taking care of my young son. But I did feel guilty not being around as much as these stay-at-home moms were for their children.
I generally don’t talk too much about my kids in the work setting. A woman colleague mentioned to me that she didn’t realize that I had children until knowing me for over a year. She wasn’t married yet but said she could understand why I would omit references to family in the work setting. (that story comes from five years ago). Very recently, a senior person, “Joe,” told me that he felt that my keeping references to children to a minimum was an “appropriate professional posture” to take.
Joe’s advice came in the midst of a conversation where he was hearing about a tense email exchange that I had had with a collaborator of his. His collaborator, “Jane,” wanted to invite me to be part of an advisory group for a project that Joe and Jane both worked on. It turned out Jane did not have any funds to support my time on the advisory group (1 day meeting each year and a social networking cite to hear regular updates and provide guidance). I tried to explain to her that I could not work for free. She was offended. Others on their project were working for free. (actually they weren’t.) When I told Joe about it, I said that working for free means taking time away from my family as I have to devote time to bring in grants to cover me otherwise. I was reluctant to raise this directly with Jane.
thanks for reading.
Hey hey cousin,
I think the comment you made about “female hysteria” in the 1800s telling of something, though I’m not quite sure what. Maybe that our problems reach deeper then we think? And go back further to before women were even predominantly in the workforce. I’m not sure.
I was thinking about this recently after reading some of Tolstoy’s short stories, written mid 1800s, and he described women as being totally strung out in child-raising (and they had tons of servants too! I mean sometimes I feel overwhelmed, but I like to think that if I had a personal maid and cook and laundress that it would not be the case, now I’m not so sure. . .). The more that I consider the problem the more it seems to me that it partly comes down to community. I’m sure in the past a lot of that community came from family, but we are so spread out now. And we need more than emotional support, we need physical support. I think that I wouldn’t have been able to cope with all the things that have occurred in the last couple of years if it weren’t for the community that surrounds me, I’m curious at what point in western civilization we started becoming so nuclear and “independent” and whether things became harder for women at that point. And it’s funny because my pride won’t even let people help me out sometimes. I feel I have to suffer, like I have to do everything myself, and that I’m some sort of failure if someone brings me a meal or something.
There are lots of terms people throw around like being “balanced” I think a lot about the word “balance.” I think that sometimes that seems like too easy a fix. Like all you have to do is go to yoga and then your problems are easy. I’m not saying that it’s not good to take care of yourself, but I just think that the word balance doesn’t mean much to me. For instance nothing about my life is balanced, I had four babies under the age of two, right? Life is hard and not balanced but I still have to deal with it. So what do you do? That’s what coffee is for. Haha, I’m just kidding. I don’t know I’m still trying to figure it out. I used to work part time and even though I loved my job I was miserable, so much guilt! I’m happier being at home and happy that we can financially swing that, but there is definitely a different kind of crazy that being home with small children can bring on, and I’m learning about that too.
Yes Logan – about going it alone – being nuclear and independent. I really think that may be at the crux of the problem. We are communal animals. I don’t think we are meant to live in these little boxes seperate from each other. What’s worse, there are many voices in the current political cacophony that are calling for just that. “You take care of yours and I’ll take care of mine” and “why should I have to pay taxes to pay for your (enter social need here).”
“No person is an island” – I’ve always believed – but man it is really tough feeling the love the way things are right now. I mean really – is it so difficult to see that maybe, just maybe it is a good idea for EVERYONE in the wealthiest country the world has ever known to have affordable access to health care? This is a NO BRAINER and yet we barely have the communal will to make it happen. Likewise with just about every issue involving children and families. I just don’t get it.
So many rich stories.
There’s a thread here in the comments about going it alone. Pretending you don’t have kids when you’re at work (Irwin, Lily). Pretending you can do it all on your own (including my cousin Logan who had TWO sets of TWINS within TWO YEARS–yikes!).
In my case, I was just so incredibly busy I couldn’t imagine asking for help. I couldn’t stand the idea that I would owe someone a favor. When would I have time to repay that favor?
I’ve been on the verge of tears or anxious for no apparent reason for days now. And hiding from the threat of the entire world crashing down around me for what feels like as long as I can remember (or at least since getting pregnant over 6 years ago).
There is so much good in my life and friends don’t want to be pulled down so bemoaning the challenges aloud do little to build a support network – actually it makes people run the other direction and that simply fuels the feelings of being in this alone.
Thank you to a friend who passed this along – and to you for writing. I’ve got some reading – and sharing – to do.
Thanks for sharing. I am definitely on the edge, and recently started a Rx for an antidepressant because I was feeling so overwhelmed by everything. It’s so hard to be a working mom. I’m seen in my office as an “example” for the new moms who have babies (my kids are 8.5 and 7). “She can do it, so I must be able to too!” What they don’t see is the times I sit on my stairs crying because I can’t do it all, and don’t know how I can possibly squeeze one more thing into the day. It’s good to know I’m not alone in this place, because most of the time, it feels like a very lonely place. I’ll be back to get some inspiration from you.
My friend Holly calls this “comparing our insides to other people’s outsides.” Sometimes we do ourselves and others a disservice by pretending everything is just fine.
I’m glad you’ll be back. I promise to do some stories that are a little more uplifting than this one.
Hi and thank you so much for sharing this. I did the exact same thing about 3 weeks ago. I just flat came home for lunch from work and could not return. My youngest child was about to graduate but, was on the verge of failing a couple of classes because socializing was his main focus! My mom had a mini stroke and was attacked by man in her neighborhood all within a few weeks. I was planning a graduation party for my son, mailing out invitations, wondering the whole time if he would walk across the stage! I began to feel that “vomit” feeling you talked about when thinking about getting up for work, then nerves and panic, then hives that covered my whole body. They would disappear and leave me looking fine. No marks, nothing and then return at a moments notice. I wanted to hold up. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to do what was right. Finally one day, my body just did the same as yours. It stopped and would not allow me to go back to work. I called work and told them I needed to go to my mothers and check on her. I did, I went the next morning, drove 6 hrs to her and brought her to my house. We healed together for about 10 days. She helped me with my son’s graduation party (yes, he made it! Thank the Lord!). I helped her with things she wasn’t able to do and together we were two women on the mends. I felt and still feel a great sense of relief.
Thank you for sharing. I needed this encouragement so much.
Penny
Thank you so much for sharing this story. I’d forgotten about the hives. Had those, too. And yes, it’s so mysterious how they come on so violently and then leave without a trace.
Thank you for starting this blog, Katrina, documenting this important untold story in our society. Your stories are compelling and your insights are sharp. And I love your writing style. As a dad and full-time teacher I find myself nodding my head in agreement at practically every paragraph. Hat’s off to you for a job well done.
Katrina-
Thanks for directing me to this post. Such a great and honest exploration of what so many of us have experienced. The next step for all of us might be exploring our common causes (the quote from Friedan gets us close, I think) and identifying preventative measures … I love your line at the top of your blog ad it implies we CAN have it all.
Katrina–I posted under the Warning Bells post about my experience, but in brief: I used to work 60 hours/week freelance, and did not even take maternity leave during labor or on the birth days of my children. But now, when they are school age and it should be easier, I seem to be incapable of handling nearly as much as I used to. I’m fried, and now working only 20 hours. This does mean I have them after school, whereas they were in daycare for 10 hours when I worked non stop. But still. I have been through batteries of health tests, and they have found some things… a touch of iron deficiency, low oxygen levels, sleep disturbances–but nothing severe enough to explain how tired and inefficient I am. Burn out is a BIG price to pay, and I have to caution all women to do whatever is possible to avoid it now, before it happens, or the crash may come at a higher price, at a most inconvenient time. … I sure hope I can return to the land of the living one of these days!
Thanks for sharing that. Yes, burning out is no joke. Major physical set back. I was shocked by how long it took for me to start feeling like myself, and still, I don’t think my nervous system is resilient like it once was.
A friend clipped an article for me on adrenal exhaustion a few months after I stopped working–something to look into. There are certain foods to eat and others to avoid to feed your adrenals, which take a big hit under chronic stress…
I’ve heard about that, read a little about it. I should find out more. Thanks.
Thank you so much for your candor. While I haven’t had a breakdown like yours, I’ve had similar experiences prior to having children and I find that now that I’m trying to balance having a 2 year old with having a freelance/part-time schedule, I struggle. I struggle, first of all, to feel that I’m a valuable person when I don’t have work. And then when I do, its hard to watch the house become a disaster and to find ourselves eating cheese and crackers for dinner (we just did last night). I feel like my life is a full glass and everytime I add something, it means that something else spills out and drips all over the floor.
I’m so happy to have been introduced to your blog. Thank you for writing about this. I’ve been meaning to post a video blog about moms and work, since I find its yet another contentious topic that comes up among other mothers. Often, I find that mothers who work say things to me like “I dont know how you do it,” (staying home with my son most of the time). And moms that don’t work often say things like “I’m so glad I get to spend this precious time with her/him.” Just seems to me like everyone’s trying to justify their position and there’s very little actual talk that goes on about what we, as mothers, WANT.
I have rarely encountered a woman with children who wants to work all the time or who doesn’t want to work at all. The vast majority tend to fit into the “longing for part-time, flexible work” category. And while this can be a challenge to find, I think it can be a beautiful way to spend the time we want with our children and also have some satisfaction in the external work-obsessed world. I wish there were more work opportunities out there for mothers of the flexible, part-time variety and am curious what you’ve found in your own journey with work and motherhood and talking with your readers. Does it seem that’s what most women want? And what kinds of work are women finding in the flexible, part-time realm?
Agreed. My short answer is that I have been able to carve a niche for myself, working part time from home as a web consultant and I’ve never been happier, but it certainly came with trade offs.
I’ll address this in a future blog post. I’d love to hear what other people say about it.
Congratulations to you for finding that niche!! That’s inspiring to hear. And bring on that future blog post! I’d love to hear what others say, too.
Wow! Love this blog! it really hits home. I am a school teacher with two young boys and I constantly feel emotionally and physically drained. I just can’t do it all. I always feel like a failure. The irony is that my husband has no feelings of failure whatsoever. If the house is not in perfect order–it doesn’t seem to reflect on him. Unfortunately, that guilt falls solely on the women. The strange thing is–I don’t feel stressed at work. I go there and give it my all and feel successful. It’s when I get home that I start to feel overwhelmed with it all–dinner, homework, laundry, bath. I literally work from the moment I wake up until the moment I climb into bed. And I feel like during the week–I’m so busy that I’m not spending “quality” time with my children–I’m simply slaving away and getting everything done. Is that really how it’s supposed to be? Btw, I was a stay at home mom for 5 years. That job was certainly not easy and I worked my butt off then, too. But I felt like I had much more balance in my life and I enjoyed knowing that my family–my household–was my full-time job. Now I have two full-time jobs.
Thanks, Pam. I was just talking to a friend this morning who was saying she feels fine when she’s working, and great when she’s just hanging out with her daughter, but absolutely TERRIBLE when she’s trying to do both at once.
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