I Just Want a Quieter Brain, says Every Mom of Teenagers
It won’t surprise you that many of my clients, moms of teenagers and young adults, arrive saying, “I just want a quieter brain.”
They describe their inner dialogue as looping records, inner committees that never adjourn or a swarm of constantly buzzing bees. And they listen all day and half the night to those anxious thoughts: “Don’t forget the…, what if my kid does this..., I shouldn’t have… I have to...” Always rehashing what was said, prepping for the next conversation and imagining what’ll go wrong.
I'm guessing that you know what I’m talking about. That you’ve been held hostage by the chatter. Pinned down by the negativity. Drained by a voice in your head that never shuts up.
Kerry said it like this: “The constant thoughts rob me of the peace and quiet I need to stay grounded. When my mind is spinning off through all that stuff, my conversations with my daughter tend to spin off as well.”
Lana sighed: “My mind is running scenarios all day long. Things that might happen. And things that are really unlikely to happen. It’s ridiculous how much space the what-ifs take up in my head. And how they keep me on edge.”
Michelle: “A voice keeps telling me that I should have done it differently or should have said something different. It makes me feel like I’m constantly failing as a mother. I just want it to be quiet!”
But trying to shut out concerns about our kids is impossible. They are woven into our fibers as mothers and if you try to ignore those concerns, the volume and the urgency get cranked up. Your brain starts yelling, “But... but… you HAVE to deal with this right away… it’s YOUR JOB as a mother to… If you don’t, then BAD THINGS will happen… It's YOUR FAULT... ”
Trying to reason with the chatter doesn’t work - it just causes more chatter. And not the nice kind.
What does work is developing your ability to let the thoughts come and go. Not aiming for an empty brain, but a brain through which thoughts can flow. Instead of attaching and reacting to each and every thought, you regard more of them as passers-by instead of long-term tenants.
Here are some ways to cultivate that kind of non-clingy mental space:
Simplify your environment.
Our minds love getting wrapped up in day-to-day logistics. What’s for breakfast? Where are my shopping bags? What’s on my schedule? What’s each kid doing today? What groceries do we need?
You can remove some of this mental clutter by planning breakfasts for the whole week or, gasp, having the same thing 5 days in a row. Designate a place for the shopping bags. Put a printout of the schedule on the fridge. Only get groceries on Thursdays.
They’re all little choices but stack them up and they get loud. When you clear some space, the thoughts you want to attend to will have a place to land.
Name the feeling.
This is a skill that most of us need to keep developing – the simple act of naming the emotion that’s present. We put a huge amount of energy into avoiding uncomfortable feelings, limiting our breaths to the shallows and fighting feelings back, when saying what’s there takes 3 seconds. When you say, “I’m experiencing irritation” or “That’s sadness in my chest,” you acknowledge the feeling that’s been trying to get your attention and reduce the likelihood of it splattering all over the place later.
Naming emotions is also beneficial if you're the kind of person who tends to give all your uncomfortable feelings the same label – like ‘I’m overwhelmed’. Maybe it’s closer to confused, threatened, apprehensive, sheepish, offended or intimidated. Being precise instantly creates more room in your mind.
Take in less.
The human brain is exposed to thousands of words, images, opinions and stories every hour. A mother’s brain holds all this, plus her concerns for her family. And if the stimulation continues 24/7, your brain stays in the rhythm of processing, processing, processing, and never getting the job completely done.
The break only comes when we decide to create it.
Choose quieter inputs like reading a book, eating your lunch without scrolling or going for a walk without a podcast playing. Lower consumption = completed processing = more restfulness in there.
Wait for the show.
Are you spending a lot of your time at the rehearsals instead of the show? Are you trying to predict what your teenager will say and planning out your response (or 10 possible responses)?
The problems with all that rehearsing are: 1) it’s so, so, so exhausting, and 2) you don’t actually feel more prepared, just more scattered.
The best alternative is handling the conversation when it happens. Waiting to hear what your son actually has to say about his mistake. Instead of running scenarios, spend that time on your yoga mat, chopping carrots or walking in the woods so you can be grounded and there with him in real time when the conversation actually occurs.
The next time you catch yourself rehearsing your lines, stop what you’re doing and say out loud, “I will handle what happens when it happens.” Your overstuffed mind will thank you.
It’s happening right here.
When your brain is perpetually watching for danger signs and anticipating troubles before they happen, your system is following an old pattern that used to keep you safe.
But it’s not keeping you safe now, because you’re spinning and worrying and all that bracing for impact robs you of the present moment, which might include an unexpected moment of connection with your big kid.
Practice catching your brain when it's forecasting and do something to interrupt the pattern – ten jumping jacks, splash cold water on your face, squeeze your stress toy, sing a song – anything that points your system back into your body and what’s happening right here right now.
I’m not a heart surgeon.
This is a line I still say to myself on a regular basis. Because my brain, left on its own, has a tendency to label every new issue as urgent. “Oh, I need to resolve that right now (sirens blaring)… They expect an immediate answer… I HAVE TO figure this out...”
I started asking myself, “What if I finish this task before I start something else? What if I don't look the answer for her? What if I don’t suggest what he could say to his boss? What if I give myself time before I respond?”
It turns out that plenty of issues resolve themselves without me (imagine that). Skirmishes blow over. The kids find their own supper. Other people figure it out.
And that makes it quieter in here.
Your body knows.
It took years before I really understood that listening to my body was central to my peace of mind.
When the chatter becomes ear-splitting, our bodies can't help but be engaged in the distress. Shoulders rise, guts clench, jaws lock and eyes squint. The body feels the pressure and sends warnings to the brain, which escalates the distress, which tightens the clenching, which amplifies….
Luckily, our bodies are also built to support our mental calm. They even tell us what they need. I heard it a million times before I learned to listen and just do it. Step outside for a minute, drink some water, s-t-r-e-t-c-h, take 12 full breaths, dance to one song and watch what happens: the thoughts soften naturally.
I coached Kerry, Lana and Michelle to develop their ability to notice the thoughts without letting them run the show. "When everything feels quiet, I don't feel like I have to fill my head with to-do lists or pointless worrying. And even on days when there are more thoughts than usual, the noise doesn’t take over when I'm trying to have a calm conversation with my daughter."
It’s a kind of self-trust, allowing ourselves to have a quieter mind.
Trusting that we're doing enough.
Trusting that we’ll handle whatever comes up next.
Trusting our systems to keep us steady.
Trusting the space in there.
I call it peace of mind. And for me, that’s a big part of feeling peace in my parenting.
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