Mommy Martyr

It's no secret that being a mom means putting yourself last a lot of the time. Get everyone else fed and dressed and then I'll throw myself together in the few minutes that are left. The little person wants to read a book with me and I want to catch up on friends' blogs? Reading a book with him always wins. The little person needs milk and I need to start a load of laundry? I'll get his milk first. He needs to eat lunch and I need to go to the bathroom? I'll probably just manage to hold it another hour. Such is life. And it's good, mostly. It's a good thing to have the refrain of my mind be "How can I serve the people in my life today?"

But what happens when that self-sacrifice turns into martyrdom? And when does it cross that grey, grey line? When does it become "I can't take time to get my hair cut/work out/write/go on a walk/run an errand/answer the phone because my kids need me and only me and I don't want to inconvenience my husband during his time off?" How do I get to the place where doing something for myself feels wrong and indulgent? (Side note: I really hate that phrase "doing something for yourself." It sounds so, well, self-helpy and frou-frou. But it's a real thing.) How do I get to the place where doing something for myself doesn't end in guilt for not putting others first?

And most importantly, how does this square with what Jesus says? He clearly values humility:

"The first shall be last, and the last shall be first." 

"Consider others better than yourselves."

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition." 

But he also knew when to "do something for himself." He often stepped away from the crowds. He spent many nights alone. He spent time with a few good friends. He took time to eat. He knew when to say "yes," when to say "no," and when to say "wait." Most of the time, when others needed him, he said yes. And I think that's how it should be. Whenever possible, we say yes to putting others first. BUT. There's a key part of that familiar passage to consider:

"Look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others."

It's implied that we'll look to our own interests, that we'll take care of ourselves. Looking to the interests of others does not exclude looking after yourself. Jesus' ministry was only possible because of the many times he stole away to pray, to eat, to be still. I can't give to those around me effectively if I'm not taking time to steal away. But it's not the stealing away that brings life; it's stealing away to be with Jesus. And that seems to be the key: time to myself should still be about service; I should take time to myself SO THAT I can bring more God-life to the world. And the only God-life I bring comes from what He breathes through me from time spent with Him. Steal away. Fill up. Pour out. Repeat.

But I'm left with a lot of questions. Questions like: When is saying "no" to someone else's need creating a healthy boundary and when is it selfish? How do you put others' needs above your own without sacrificing your own needs? How do you know when "doing something for yourself" is healthy or actually self-indulgent? (Because let's be honest: sometimes "stealing away" to get that pedicure is really more about me than it is about something eternal or others-centered. And yeah. There's a spiritual place for pedicures--not to worry! But do I see it as a way to bring beauty to the world or invest in a friendship, or is it simply an escape from the zoo that is my house some days? And, of course, sometimes escaping the zoo IS what brings God-life because I might otherwise explode on my loved ones.)

It's complicated. And while I don't have many answers, I do know this: it's a matter of the heart. Did you catch that little phrase earlier: "because my kids need me and only me"? That's my heart coming through, y'all. And not the pretty part. That's the part of me that believes the lie that I'm irreplaceable and that somehow I can bring all kinds of life and peace to my kids by my enduring presence. Yikes. Pretty sure that's God's job and that "being there" for my kids has become an idol, and in that moment I officially become a mommy martyr. My kids need me, sure, but they really need Jesus, and the best way for them to learn that is by seeing their very needy mom leaning on Him. That way, when I'm not there to give them comfort/companionship/peace/happiness, they know that Jesus IS there and does those things better perfectly anyway.