Motherhood and the Pressure to Perform: Finding Grace in the Mess with Sarah Wiseman

Motherhood and the Pressure to Perform: Finding Grace in the Mess with Sarah Wiseman

Sarah's story is raw and honest. Not the highlight reel. Not the Instagram version. The real version. The messy version. The version where a Christian woman who loves Jesus deeply still struggles with perfectionism, PMDD, dysphoria, and the relentless pressure to be the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect Christian.

And somehow, in all that imperfection, she's found something radical: grace.

From Addiction to Redemption: The Beginning of Grace

Sarah grew up in a Christian home. She loved Jesus as a little girl. She found a note she'd written to Him: "Jesus, I just love you so much. I wish everyone knew how great you were."

She was a good girl. She followed the rules. She wanted God to be impressed by her.

But perfectionism is a prison, and Sarah eventually realized she couldn't maintain it.

"I just got so discouraged with the reality of like, oh, I'm never gonna nail this," Sarah explains. "And then I went through some heartbreaks and all the stuff you go through as a teenager, and I kind of just gave up. I was like, well, if I can't do it perfect, I won't do it at all."

So she fell hard and fast. Drugs. Alcohol. Addiction. The party lifestyle. Everything except Jesus.

"I do everything on an 11," Sarah says, laughing. "So I fell hard and fast."

For a couple of years, she was a mess. Using pain as an excuse to fill herself with everything except the one thing that could actually heal her.

Then one night, her brother found her in a gutter. He wasn't even a churchgoer, but he sat her down and said something that changed everything: "You need to go back to church or you're gonna die."

She went. She walked into her oldest brother's church, expecting to feel shame. Expecting to feel broken. Expecting judgment.

Instead, she felt love.

"From the minute the worship started, all I felt was love," Sarah recalls. "I felt beautiful for the first time in like years. My whole life, really."

For the next few months, she kept partying. But every Sunday morning, something pulled her back to church. And then she realised something: This high is better than any of these other highs I'm chasing.

The last time she ever took drugs, she got two hours of sleep and thought, "I gotta go to church." She walked in and felt the love of God.

She never went back to drugs.

Years later, Sarah asked God why He didn't just heal her addiction instantly. Why didn't He just take it away?

God's answer changed her life: "I needed you to know that I wasn't too proud to compete for your addiction. And I needed you to know that being addicted to me was gonna be better than any other."

The Lie That Follows: "You Can't Be Broken and Help People"

Sarah's redemption story is powerful. Her transformation from addiction to wholeness is real. And she's committed her life to helping others find that same love, that same grace, that same freedom.

But then came the lie.

Someone she trusted with her vulnerability—someone she shared her struggles with—went and told someone else: "She shouldn't be doing ministry. She's too broken."

It rocked Sarah. Because it's the lie that follows all of us: You can't be broken and help people. You can't be broken and talk about Jesus.

"But it's like, doesn't that cheapen what He did on the cross?" Sarah asks. "If we're supposed to be perfect before we can help people, then why did He die?"

She's right. The gospel is built on the foundation that broken people help broken people. That wounded healers are the most powerful healers. That our weakness is where God's power is made perfect.

Paul said it: "I will boast more proudly in my weakness, because that's what qualifies us."

And Jesus modeled it: He spent His time with the broken, the sick, the sinners, the outcasts. Not with the "perfect" people.

"Brokenness and ministry belong together," Sarah says. "And the longer I'm a Christian, the more I've found it's a battle to hold on to that revelation."

The Pressure to Be Perfect: Perfectionism as a Spiritual Problem

Here's where Sarah's story gets really honest.

She grew up believing that perfection was the goal. That being a "good girl" was the path to God's approval. That if she just tried hard enough, followed the rules closely enough, performed well enough, then God would be impressed.

But perfectionism isn't just a personality trait. It's a spiritual problem.

"I think when we get saved and Jesus becomes our everything, it's like he becomes our standard," Sarah explains. "But he was perfect, right? Like he was our example, but I don't know if he wanted to be a source of shame, like you'll never be as perfect as me."

The pressure to be perfect doesn't just affect our relationship with God. It affects our relationships with our families. It affects our mental health. It affects our ability to show up authentically in the world.

And for Sarah, it manifests in a very real, very physical way: PMDD (Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder).

PMDD and Red Days: When Your Brain Betrays You

PMDD is a severe form of PMS that affects about 5-8% of menstruating people. It's not just mood swings. It's dysphoria—a profound sense of being the worst version of yourself.

For Sarah, it happens every month. For 7+ days, she feels out of control. She feels like she's acting like somebody she's not. And everyone in her family is paying for it.

"You feel like you're acting like somebody that you're not, and everyone's paying for it," Sarah says. "And then you spend, once you feel better, you're like trying to clean up all the mess you made. Oh it's so intense."

She describes it like this: She has the energy of depression (she doesn't want to do anything, it's hard to leave the house, it's hard to see friends) combined with the aggravation of being angry and mean.

"I'm monstrously angry and mean, and it's the worst," she explains. "Because when you're trying to clean it up after you've messed it up, you feel like a hypocrite. You feel like you've hurt the very people you love more than anyone else."

The dysphoria is so intense that she feels like she's not herself. The words coming out of her mouth don't reflect what she actually believes. She lashes out at the people she loves most. And then, when the dysphoria passes, she has to pick up the pieces.

"I'm so sorry. Like, this is all me. I was triggered and I lashed out at you, and you actually did nothing wrong. And the words that came out of my mouth, they're not what I believe."

But here's the thing: Her kids remember the words. They remember the anger. And even though Sarah apologizes, even though she explains, there's this fear that lingers: Do they think that's what I really believe? Do they think that's who I really am?

The Red Day Survival Plan: Reframing Struggle as Opportunity

Instead of hiding her PMDD, instead of pretending it doesn't exist, Sarah decided to do something radical: She named it. She explained it to her kids. And she turned it into an opportunity for grace.

"I call them my red days because mom's like raging red," Sarah explains. "They know they get more TV on those days. Like, I try to almost make rewards, like yeah, so that yeah, they know mummies like they even say to me now, like, Mum, it's a red day isn't it?"

But it goes deeper than just giving the kids extra screen time.

Sarah prepares. She bakes extra meals so that when the depression hits and she doesn't want to do anything, there's food ready. She explains to her kids what's coming. She sets expectations. She creates a plan.

And most importantly, she's teaching her kids something that most parents never teach them: How to handle imperfection with grace.

"I've had to just be like, I I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry," Sarah says. "Like, and and you know, it's easy to look back and just think of everything mental illness or your situation is taking from you and your family, but I've just felt God teaching me everything, it's also giving, like, it's giving my kids this opportunity to see a parent who can apologize, who can humble themselves."

Her kids are learning compassion. They're learning that it's okay to be imperfect. They're learning that love includes apology and repair.

And they're learning something even more powerful: God never changes, even when we do.

God Never Changes: The Anchor in the Storm

This is the core of Sarah's message. And it's the thing that keeps her sane when the red days hit.

"No matter how much I change in the month, God never changes, you know?" Sarah says. "No matter the highs and lows you have, Dave, like what God says about you never changes, you know, and his promises never change."

When Sarah is dysphoric, when she's angry and mean and saying things she doesn't mean, God's love for her doesn't change. His promises don't change. His plan for her life doesn't change.

"He's not just like, oh no, like oh no, how am I gonna bless her now? How am I gonna bless her kids now?" Sarah explains. "Like I always try to think of that, you know, like he knew that I would struggle with this, and he already had a plan to like make the enemy pay, I think."

This is the gospel. Not a gospel of perfection. Not a gospel of "once you get your act together, then God will bless you." But a gospel of unchanging love in the midst of changing circumstances.

The Apology Pie: Teaching Kids How to Make Things Right

One of Sarah's most brilliant parenting tools is something she calls the Apology Pie.

When someone in the family does something wrong, they have to complete all four pieces of the pie:

1.Say sorry — Acknowledge what you did

2.Listen to how you made them feel — Understand the impact

3.Say "I understand, and I'm still sorry" — Validate their feelings

4.Change your behavior — Actually do something different

"If you haven't done all four, the pie's not complete, right?" Sarah explains.

And here's the thing: Sarah may have to do the Apology Pie when the red days hit.

She's not just teaching her kids how to apologise. She's modeling it. She's showing them that even adults mess up. Even moms mess up. And the way you handle it matters.

"I then have to do that for them every month when I'm like, you know," Sarah says. "And I have experienced healing within this journey. Like I God has been in it, you know, and and I I actually don't suffer as bad as I did."

She's not pretending the PMDD is gone. She's not waiting for a miracle cure before she can be a good parent. She's working with what she has, and she's turning her struggle into a teaching moment.

The Perfect Parent Paradox: God's Kids Still Mess Up

Sarah shares something God told her when her kids were little. She was frustrated, wondering what she was doing wrong, and God said:

"Sarah, I'm the perfect dad, and my kids still do the wrong thing. I literally am the perfect father. I offer them everything, they still mess up. So if I don't take it personally, you can't start taking that personally either."

This is revolutionary for parents. Especially for perfectionist parents. Especially for parents who believe that if they just parent perfectly, their kids will turn out perfectly.

But that's not how it works. And God knows it better than anyone.

"If I let my kids down, like God still has a plan," Sarah says. "You know, like I am not the I am not the last thing that's gonna happen to them because God is their father more than I'm their mother."

This doesn't mean Sarah abdicates her responsibility. She still apologises. She still works to repair. She still sets boundaries and teaches her kids right from wrong.

But she holds it all loosely. She trusts that God's plan is bigger than her mistakes.

And somehow, that trust makes her a better parent.

The Enemy's Cards vs. God's Cards: A Theology of Hope

Sarah has a beautiful way of explaining God's sovereignty to her kids. She tells them:

"Imagine God and the enemy are playing a game of cards, right? The enemy has power on this earth, but he doesn't have authority. So he might try and play a card, right? He can play his cards, but God always has a better one. So if something bad happens, if I've hurt you, like God plans to heal you. If someone else hurts you, God plans to heal you and turn it into something great."

This is theology that sticks. This is theology that kids can understand. And it's theology that adults desperately need to hear.

The enemy can play his cards. He can bring pain, struggle, mental illness, dysphoria, perfectionism, shame. But God always has a better card.

And God's card is redemption. Healing. Transformation. Hope.

Watch the Full Episode

About Sarah Wiseman

Sarah Wiseman is a mother, mental health advocate, and founder of The Sit down with Sarah podcast. She's passionate about helping women and mothers understand that perfectionism is a spiritual problem, not a personality trait. Through her podcast, social media, and one-on-one ministry, Sarah helps people find grace in the mess of real life. She lives with her family on the Gold Coast, Australia, where she homeschools her kids and continues to build community around the message that broken people can help broken people.

Key Takeaways

•Perfectionism is a spiritual problem, not a personality trait. It's rooted in the belief that we need to earn God's approval through performance. But Jesus already paid the price.

•Brokenness and ministry belong together. The people who are most qualified to help others are the people who've been broken and experienced God's healing.

•PMDD and dysphoria are real, and they deserve to be named and managed. Sarah's "red days" aren't a character flaw—they're a biological reality that can be worked with, not against.

•Your kids are learning grace from watching you apologise. When you model humility, repair, and the Apology Pie, you're teaching them something more valuable than perfection.

•God never changes, even when you do. Your moods may change. Your capabilities may change. But God's love, His promises, and His plan for your life don't change.

•The enemy can play his cards, but God always has a better one. This is a theology of hope that works for kids and adults alike.

•Imperfect parents can raise amazing kids. Because God is a perfect parent, and His kids still mess up. So if He doesn't take it personally, you don't have to either.

•The Apology Pie is a framework for real repair. It's not just saying sorry—it's understanding impact, validating feelings, and changing behavior.

Reflection Questions

As you sit with Sarah's story, consider:

1.Where are you feeling the pressure to be perfect? In your parenting? In your faith? In your career?

2.What would it look like to embrace imperfection as part of your spiritual journey? What would change if you stopped trying to earn God's approval?

3.Do you have a "red day" or a struggle that you've been hiding from your family? What would it look like to name it, explain it, and turn it into a teaching moment?

4.How are you modeling grace and repair for your kids? What does your apology look like?

5.What card is the enemy trying to play in your life right now? What card does God have that's better?

6.Who in your life needs to hear that broken people can help broken people? How can you share that message?

7.How can you help your kids understand that God never changes, even when they do?

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Sunburnt Souls is a Christian mental health podcast dedicated to exploring faith, mental health, and what it means to follow Jesus in a broken world. We believe that hope in the mess is real—and that your faith and your mental health both matter.

Explore more stories of faith, resilience, and hope on the Sunburnt Souls Stories page.