I find none of life’s daily challenges as terrifying as parenting. And I’m terrified of being terrified, knowing that as I white-knuckle my way through each day I am teaching my children white-knuckling instead of grace. As a parent I feel inadequate, exposed, undone. I have so many layers of guilt and shame I don’t know where to begin, so I stand helplessly and watch myself flailing in the discomfort of inadequacy. My decisions are often motivated by paralyzing fear, anger, and trying to control all the things that are making me uncomfortable: noises, messes, big emotions, sibling rivalry. I see my imperfections and find myself powerless to correct them as I fumble through each day blindly groping for something that will make me feel acceptable.

In February of this year I wrote in my prayer journal, “I really believe deep inside that I’m going to get it wrong most of the time and there’s nothing I can do about it; and I am extremely fearful and uncomfortable about that. I also think the truth is going to be just as depressing and difficult as the lies. I don’t have much hope to be set free.”

My older daughter will turn seven this fall. This discomfort with parenting has been developing for a significant portion of my life. It has brought about major changes in my spiritual journey and my marriage, and for the most part I view that positively. For some reason, I find it most difficult to face the changes it is precipitating in me personally. I grieve the successful, confident, accomplished person I believed myself to be before I had children. With Paul I say, “Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?” (Romans 7:24)

Then Paul says, “Thank God! The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 7:25a). Is it really that simple? Is Jesus really enough for this? After following Him my whole life, I have just expressed that I don’t have much hope to be set free from this parenting mess. I feel trapped: I fear the lies. I fear the truth. I am afraid of the mess that I am, and also afraid of Jesus.

My counselor says to identify what I am thinking. As uncomfortable as it is to wallow in my feelings, it is even more unnerving to enter into my thoughts. However, it is also very revealing, because in my thoughts I find the lies that are feeding my shame and fear. Over time and through a couple of different processes, I have identified over forty of my toxic thoughts about parenting.  They seem to fall into three categories: 

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  HOW THINGS SHOULD BE

• Most – if not all – of my parenting interactions should be positive and turn out well.
• Calm, clean and quiet are signs of a good home.
• The goal of parenting – both in individual interactions and as a whole – is good behavior and happy outcomes.
• Parenting is the most important thing in life to get right. It’s terrible not to be emotionally safe, empathetic, consistent, good at being present, a fun playmate, etc.
• Crying is bad. Yelling is bad. Anger is bad.
• I will have less problems if I get it “right.” There won’t be scary situations or loose ends. Someday I’ll have it all figured out.
• It is important to feel bad, guilty, and ashamed when I make a mistake or when my kids behave in a way that reflects my unhealthy patterns.

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  I AM DOING IT WRONG

• I have ruined the identity of my children by giving them so many wrong messages at a young age. I have done a lot of irreversible damage.
• I get it wrong most of the time, and that is going to have long term (perhaps eternal) consequences.
• I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to be there for my children.   
• Interactions with my children are scary. I want to get them “right” but I don’t know how.
• All the ways my children “misbehave” means something is wrong with me or them and I need to fix it.

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  I CAN’T CHANGE

• I won’t ever be free or healthy. People don’t change. I’m trapped in bad parenting and its consequences.
• My success is based on my own merit and abilities – the outlook is dim.
• Outcomes are the most important thing, and they depend on my being a “good” parent, which I currently am not.

It is these thoughts that leave me feeling deflated, helpless, and less-than. If these are not true, then what is? Is there really hope in Jesus? Can I actually change, or is that just a carrot dangled by religious zealots who want me to follow their God? Is a God who allows me to ruin my children worth believing in?

I’m not sure I have the answers to all those questions, but I have two experiences to share in closing. First, on Mother’s Day this year, when someone told me I was a good mom I didn’t inwardly cringe. For the first time since my daughter was born, I was able to take the compliment, believing it to be true. This to me is evidence of the power of Jesus against all the lies. Second, through a month-long process of combatting lies with truths, I reached this conclusion, not just in my thoughts, but also – on most days – in my feelings: I am able to do this job God has given me. I don’t have to hide behind productivity and to-do lists. I don’t have to be ashamed or overwhelmed. I can give myself permission to be all in. There is something beautiful about having permission to be all in. And maybe if I keep giving myself permission to be all in, my children will learn to come out of hiding too.

[In “Fear of Parenting, Part 2” I’ll discuss some of the truths that are setting me free. To understand more of my journey regarding whether Jesus changes us, and whether hope in Him is well-founded, see pretty much all of my other blog posts! In a nutshell, He’s not really that worried about my good behavior, and the freedom He offers does not consist in me becoming a perfect parent.]