By Jordan Sapir
It’s been nearly a year since we entered lockdown here in Germany.
I first fell in love with Munich in the summer months. The city was alive with splendid attractions and the lure of nature. In summer, the German city’s streets are less crowded, as residents seek sun and sea in the south of Europe. Everything around the Bavarian metropolis is easily accessible—Italy, Switzerland, and Austria are within plain view. It captured my heart, soul, and imagination. I never felt as trapped as I often felt on the island of Manhattan. There are no bridges and tunnels to curtail travel, just open borders and easy access to entirely different countries and cultures. I loved that that granted me the freedom to live and learn. I spoke with a friend before committing to the city. He told me that Munich is a great place to live, as long as you can occasionally take a break. I always found it odd that anyone would ever want to “take a break” from such splendor. That is until now.
After a year of regulated travel and movement, I feel trapped. I feel as though someone has clipped my wings. After all, I had just learned to fly.
It was only two years prior that I took my first solo trip as a mother. I have never felt freer than when I went on that Transalp with my road bike. As I crossed peaks and borders with my fellow cyclists, stopping for photo ops at summit markers, I envisioned taking my bike around the world. I knew then that I had made the right choice to settle in a place that allowed me such freedom. It was nature, and solace, I needed. The ability to climb mountains during the day and tuck my children into bed the same evening.
The first year after Covid-19 emerged in Europe, for the first time, I felt a lack of freedom in my new home. I didn’t immediately give up. I often find strength in dire situations. I’ve always been able to adapt. I thrive under pressure and find calm in chaos. So when the lockdown was announced, I went into action. I planned activities and crafts for the kids, took on home-schooling, additional household chores, and created an online support program for Über Moms. To be honest, there was an ebb and flow.
What I didn’t realize was that despite having the energy to continue and endure, I was at the end of my rope. I used all my resources and stored energy to maintain the tremendous workload. It wasn’t sustainable. I was living in fight-or-flight mode. I’m certainly not alone in my findings.
Covid lockdowns have impacted mothers detrimentally. “Associate professor of sociology at Indiana University, Jessica Calarco, talks about women struggling to balance work and parenting during the Covid-19 pandemic. In her podcast, she explains that societal pressures and personal views about motherhood, along with “systemic failures,” are increasing suffering amongst working mothers. She concludes that mothers are experiencing more anxiety and depression than before the pandemic.
After major losses of employment, income, and furloughs, with the added responsibilities at home, we moms are collectively losing ground. After all the hard work by our mothers, and their mothers, to even the playing field, we find ourselves at a deficit. The “Sheseccion” isn’t my only worry. The emotional and mental toll has personally forced me to know my limits. Sure, I know my strengths; I’m able to climb mountains on a thin-framed carbon bike--piece of cake, pizza pie. What I have had to learn through trial, error, and pandemic, is that everyone, including me, has limits. I have to embrace these new findings. and have come to terms with the fact that I can not push myself to my limits without recharging.
I had a great first few days on my TransAlp trip. I climbed some of the most difficult peaks of the trip. I fought hard to reach summits I had never dreamed of reaching. By the third day, we’d endured heavy rains and freezing temperatures. We’d crossed over the Italian border and the weather had cleared. The temps were almost tropic, leading me to take off layers and ride out on the last leg with minimal gear. I wanted the lightweight feeling and decided to leave my rain gear and some food behind to ride the flats. About 500m ascending, it was evident that the temperatures were quickly falling. My body used reserves to keep me in motion until it couldn’t. At every turn, I begged her to give me just one last burst to reach the peak. She said Yes until her answer was, I have nothing left to give. Cold, shaky, teary-eyed, I turned off the road to safety. The talk I had with my brain and body is one that I’ll never forget. It was that turning point that forced me to my limits. On the ride to the summit, my coach gave me a bone-chilling pep talk that ended in, “At the top, refuel, replenish and recommit. Everyone is waiting. Our resources are diminishing and we have to descend.”
I not only put myself at risk that day. Everyone’s safety was on the line, as they waited in the rain and freezing cold, burning calories motionlessly.
Mothers have the tendency to thrive when thrown into pandemonium. It is our innate biological trait. However, we aren’t meant to tap into our energy reserves without refueling. It’s not sustainable. It is unnatural and dangerous to stay in a constant survival response. This is a delicate balancing act that can have detrimental effects on our nervous systems.
Burnout, for me, was inevitable. I found it difficult to complete minor tasks. It wasn’t until making the connection between my cycling trip and this crisis that I learned to love my limits. These days you will find me parked on the sofa between workouts to reboot; fractions, science experiments, and advocacy will have to wait. I’ll remain parked until there is enough fuel in my tank to adequately continue.
That doesn’t mean that I’m weak. Weakness for me is defined by the inability to know when it’s time to give in to the disagreement between my brain and my body. My strength now is knowing when to stop persisting and start quitting. There are so many states of resilience, and it’s time for me to know them all intimately.
Mothers of the world, I implore you to stop tapping into your reserves and start tapping out.
Jordan Sapir
Jordan Sapir, mother of two glitter-laden girls, 4 and 6, studied Journalism and International Political Science in NYC, a place she once called home. She can slaughter five languages fluently. She has worked in a newsroom or two, walked a catwalk or three, and is all for an impromptu adventure. Having traded in her Prada for pretzels, the founder of Über Moms lives in Munich, where she is a stay at home mom and studying to become a certified nutritionist. She is a mommy on a mission and wants to help fellow mothers raise healthy happy families, and beat a PR here and there.