Megan Raynor unpacks expectation, anxiety and acceptance.

Megan Raynor is a creative, writer and twin mother. She's always been seen as the kind of person who can "do it all" - both by those around her and herself. But it's this pressure that led to a breaking point after she'd had her twin boys. A dramatic start to motherhood, combined with running a business, high self-expectations and a history of eating disorders, culminated in post-natal anxiety, and eventually, a new appreciation for her mental strength and self-grace.

Here, Megan opens up about this experience and what she wishes people knew about "mum rage", as well as the things that have helped her emerge out the other side. 

KM: Hi Megan, thank you for being here! Can you tell me a little bit about your childhood, your family and any experiences that have helped to shape who you are.

MR: Hi! Thanks for having me and for your incredible mahi.

Aside from there being a lot more kids in our family than most (I’m the eldest of six) my upbringing was pretty standard and filled with love. My parents always encouraged us to try anything we wanted to and gave us the support to do so. I did a lot of mountain biking and running with my dad, and we’d all spend every holiday camping and running riot around the campground - the classic Kiwi upbringing.

With five younger siblings there is the expectation that you set a good example. I have heard “be a good example” repeated throughout my life by extended and close family members. Whether that’s part of the reason I am such a type A personality who always looks for ways to do or be better or it’s just who I was born to be (classic Virgo, amiright?), who knows. 

It has served me well in my life, carving a career in quite a competitive industry - advertising and then branding - and eventually setting up my own business. It’s also helped me tick off other goals, like running my first full marathon, studying Health Science on the side and scheduling the heck out of our busy life - something that’s very needed as a mum of twins with an ironman triathlete partner, a business and my Diploma of Health Science study on the side!

My career choice has definitely cemented the achievement and drive that I’ve grown up with. At uni we were told only 20% of our entire year would make it into advertising. I knew I would be one of those because I wouldn’t accept anything less. As soon as I got my foot in the door in an agency I put in 7 day work weeks and late nights to make sure I would stay there. And it worked. I went from intern to creative and created campaigns for Tourism New Zealand - putting the world’s largest pop-up book at The Hobbit LA premiere - and billboards for ANZ. That level of dedication was what was expected of us and I thrived on it at the time (or thought I did).

I ended up moving sideways into branding, which took me back home to Mount Maunganui, and eventually into working for myself as a brand strategist and copywriter which I’ve now done for the past five years. I’m best known now for creating the voice of ‘Girls Get Off’ and the queen of pleasure puns, but my favourite thing to do is to find the truth in a brand and bring it to the audience in a fun, relatable way.

Alongside my own clients I currently  head up the marketing team of a social enterprise software company, GoGenerosity and outside of work, running is my happy place. I recently did my first full marathon in memory of my marathon-running grandad and am training for my next. 

KM: You shared with me that you’ve had a difficult history with your mental health. When did you notice you didn’t feel entirely comfortable within yourself?

MR: For me a lot of my mental health battle started with my body image and a resulting eating disorder that spanned over 15 years. I don’t know if I will ever feel like it’s not a part of me, but now it’s just something that lies dormant in the background with an occasional attempt to pipe up, as opposed to taking control of my entire being as it used to.

I can’t even remember not wanting to change my body, or being upset with how it looked and felt. It makes me so sad to think that because it means my battle with my body started as far back as my memories go. I can remember being in primary school and noticing the other girls were smaller than me. This was made more obvious by being teased for wearing a little bralette-like thing because I had puppy-fat ‘boobs’. I hated that this made me different. I can remember constantly comparing myself to the other girls in my class, something that didn’t change as I grew older. This even applied outside of school - you can’t hide what you look like when you’re in a leotard and tights once a week. During the same period I was chosen as Pumba for our Lion King production in my dance show. I remember pretending to be pleased but knowing straight away it was because I was the chunkiest in the class. Whether that was true or not didn’t matter - it could have been skill but to me the only logical reason was because of a body I was already uncomfortable in.

Even though the puppy fat had gone by this stage the restriction started in intermediate, as did bullying with my friend group at the time turning out to not be very friendly after all. I tried harder and harder to be “perfect” - which in my disordered body image brain included “skinny” - so no-one would have a reason to say anything mean to me.

“But the mean-ness became my own voice in my head which continued to grow stronger until well into my 20s. It went beyond just body hate and bulimia and morphed more into hating anything about myself that wasn’t “perfect” - which, since perfection isn’t a human reality, you can imagine was quite a lot!” 

I wouldn’t try things that I didn’t already know I was good at. I focused purely on achievements, and anything that wasn’t the best wasn’t worth celebrating.  An A- wasn’t good enough. And of course, I restricted and purged and exercised to the level of giving myself stress fractures and continually ending up in hospital due to the pressure on both my body and stress levels worsening my pre-existing immune system issues.

But that didn’t matter. It was almost as if I was proud of it in a way. That I could push myself in all areas and it would work out with good marks, a small body and great running distances. The rest got swept under the rug; because pretending there was nothing wrong under the surface was easier and to be honest, I was scared that if I did ever acknowledge the feelings that were driving me, that I might not be as “good” at everything any more. And then what worth would I have then?

KM: Was there a specific incident that escalated your challenges with mental health?

MR: In 2015 I came off my BMX at the skatepark and knocked myself out. I still don’t remember the fall or very much of that day. 

I wasn’t given any education around how to deal with a head injury at the time so I went back to work and my usual routine pretty much straight away, the only difference was I had a neck brace and a big black eye. It was way too soon and I know now my brain needed more time to repair itself. 

Almost immediately everything started to overwhelm me and it only got worse. Being around my family was too loud. Trying to do my job as a creative was too hard. Keeping up the level of faux perfection I was used to was suffocating. I felt like I was spiralling and that I couldn’t do anything about it. Me being me I tried to ignore the feelings, trying to continue to create marketing campaigns and wondering why I was crying as I did it. Walking 10km minimum a day because it seemed like the only way to cope with not being able to run (no running on my physio’s orders). And not eating more than what would keep me alive because walking “wasn’t enough” exercise for me. I constantly berated myself for not being “good enough” to push through the head injury. To me I was weak, pathetic, and not living up to the expectations I had set. Hitting my head wasn’t an excuse my mean voices would accept.

After my workplace prompted it I did eventually get referred to an occupational therapist who got me to slow down on work and transitioned me back slowly so my brain could adapt, but even she never knew how much I was still trying to keep up in all other areas of my life. My faćade of being the same capable Megan was hurting my mental health.

I think the head injury really brought me face-to-face with the darkest parts of my mental health, especially the way I could easily force myself to fit the boxes I’d created for myself even when I shouldn’t - in this case seeking perfection in being fit, ‘thin’ and career driven - but I wasn't ready to deal with it.

I was actually offered a psychologist appointment because of my concussion, but I cancelled on the day out of fear. 

“The thought of going and admitting there was something wrong with me was terrifying. To me that would mean I was broken and cement the fact that I would never be good enough. I would always be that little girl who was teased because she wasn’t as perfect as she should be.”

It did however plant the seed of thought that a psychologist could help, which paid off later.

Almost a year after the accident my partner, Alex and I went to Europe for a 3 month adventure. We packed only our bmx bikes and carry on backpacks. I remember thinking I was ‘fine’ at this point, because I had gotten back to my usual level of work and running, and was finding it easier to channel the negative thoughts into pushing myself again. However, about half-way through our trip I distinctly remember Alex and I walking the same circuit of one of the Scottish towns we stopped at, looking for something I could let myself eat. We walked in the pouring rain, pushing our bikes for a good hour and I remember looking at Alex’s face and realising my eating disorder wasn’t just affecting myself anymore. All because I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything that might make me “fat” and was having a meltdown on the inside at the thought of giving in. It was at that moment I decided I had to get help when we got home, which ended up being a couple of sessions with that psychologist I had previously cancelled.

KM: Something I’ve learned over the past few years is that often, if we’re already at the struggling end of the mental health spectrum, any significant moments (good or bad) can swing that pendulum further. You had twins a few years ago, how did becoming a mother impact your life and health?

MR: Becoming a mother to my twin boys was a turning point.

In terms of body image I no longer had the brain space to obsess over every meal, and had to eat more than I’d ever eaten in my entire life to produce enough milk to keep them fed. It felt freeing for eating to no longer be about my relationship with my body but to instead be about the love I had for them. During the early days when they were in hospital (for 9 weeks as they were early) I would have an alarm that went off every three hours overnight to express milk, and every time I did I made sure to eat a snack and drink lots of fluids, with no restrictions. 

Not to mention quite frankly after they were born I no longer had any spare f***s to give about something as insignificant as my body image - all of my mental and physical energy was allocated to the twins.

It’s not to say motherhood stopped those thoughts completely - I absolutely still had and still have days where I beat up my body because it no longer looks like the (food-deprived, over exercised) body it was prior to having twins - but it has given me more space from it because I don’t have the capacity to mull and linger on those thoughts as much.

In terms of my mental health as a whole though I did find my negative thoughts worsened as time went on, only this time the theme of not being perfect wasn’t applying to my body, it was applying to my mothering. Any less than loving thought I had about the life with the boys - whether that was wanting them to stop screaming, or missing the freedom of my previous life, or any resentment for the constant neediness of breastfeeding  - would get squished down. I would tell myself that I couldn’t feel these things because I loved them and was grateful to have them, and “good mums” find this easy. Of course when you ignore feelings they just build and build, and for me I would end up exploding. I remember the first explosion because I was so horrified at myself - after 30 minutes in the car solo with a non-stop screaming duo I screamed back for them to shut up, my throat hurting from the roar that came out of me. Of course I immediately started sobbing and apologising, the self loathing reaching a new peak.

The feeling of rage did become more common even as I tried harder to squash it. This made for even more resistance to my feelings and even more self loathing. I constantly asked myself what is wrong with you, you love them so much and you’re getting time to yourself (I was back to doing some running again and working for myself around their sleeps from a couple of months old) you have no reason to feel bad enough to want to yell or throw something.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone because I was so sure I was broken. I kept everything as perfect as possible on the surface, because that’s how I knew to cope with feeling not good enough, but of course that just added more pressure to an already overloaded mind.”

At one point I googled temporary fostering thinking I clearly wasn’t good enough for my children and the only way to be a perfect mum was to go fix whatever this thing was. I cried every day, which was super conflicting because there was (and is) so much about being a mum I loved. I just didn't know that those feelings could coexist. 

I finally left a crying voice note for one of my close friends who happened to be a psychologist - I was too scared to talk to her on the phone properly or in person as I was so sure I was a horrible, broken person who shouldn't even exist anymore. I didn’t want to live if it meant being this person that I hated so much. I told her I was feeling rage and I didn’t understand why when I loved my babies  so much. I told her I didn’t know what to do anymore, there was something wrong with me.

After seeing a psychologist on her recommendation, it turned out I had postnatal anxiety. And that rage is the MOST common symptom. But the problem is that because no one talks about it for fear of being judged for feeling like there’s something wrong with them or they’re a “bad mum”, it’s not commonly known. It’s because of that I feel like I need to share this story today - I won’t lie, it’s hard to voice as I still feel that twinge of guilt and fear of judgement (heck, I find it hard not to judge MYSELF for it) when I think of rage being one of the most memorable feelings of my first year of motherhood. But it's so necessary to know that two things can be true at the same time - i.e you can not enjoy some elements of motherhood AND still love your kids. And that rage is just your body telling you that you’re overwhelmed and you could use some support.

I’ve since learned that anxiety is a common mental health issue for people with eating disorders as the two are thought to be closely linked, but I had never really thought about my mental health beyond the body issues before. Now when I look back it’s pretty obvious there was a lot more at play but it wasn’t until the postnatal anxiety that it came on my radar.

KM: I think one of the biggest misconceptions about mental illness is that you must look or seem a certain way to be suffering. For so many on the outside looking in, they wouldn’t realise what you have experienced. What do you want people to know about mental illness?

MR: When I told my family I had been having a hard time and had postnatal anxiety my mum said something that really summarised this for me. She said something along the lines of “you always presented so well, you’d never know you were struggling”.

I think that’s the biggest challenge. Because for so many people who would love to help,  it’s practically invisible because the person suffering is hiding it. It’s really clichè but the best thing you can really do is be there to listen when someone does finally share something. Never brush off how they’re feeling even if it doesn’t make sense to you. You never know how hard it may have been for that person to ask for help or to be open. 

KM: What do you do regularly to help manage your mental health and what kind of help do you like to receive from others?

MR: I run. I talk to friends. I listen to my body when it needs to move or rest.  I try not to hide the negative emotions and when I am feeling an internal pressure to start restricting or over exercising again I voice it. Part of this has come from practice in working with my psychologist (at least bi-monthly), just to check in and make sure I’m not repressing anything and to keep me from getting too far into any perfection seeking. Acknowledging emotions with the kids has helped with voicing those feelings too!

In terms of help I like to receive from others, that’s a good question! I think the best help is from someone you feel safe to share with and know there won’t be any judgement. Someone who will acknowledge the way you feel so you don’t think you’re weird or crazy for feeling that way. 

“I also have some friends who notice I’m back in overwhelm mode before I do, and they’ll send a meal delivery or offer up some time for me to go for a quick run while they hang with my boys.Those small things that give you the mental space are hugely helpful, even when you don’t think you need it.”

KM: What change do you want to see in the mental health space?

MR: In a broader sense I’d like to see mental health support made accessible for everyone. Honestly, I feel so lucky that I have been able to afford to see my psychologist and when I couldn’t, that I had parents who could afford to help me go. 

When I was at a really low point after the diagnosis and had been thinking suicidal thoughts I went to my doctor to ask to be referred through the health system so I could afford more sessions, as being so expensive I had to save up to attend therapy. I was told I wasn’t severe enough and that all funding had been allocated. I was lucky that I could turn to my family but I constantly worry about those who don’t have any way of getting the support they need. So it’s a huge change but one I want to see happen the most.

Aside from that, it’s more conversations like this. The work you’re doing is so needed and I want these kinds of conversations to be more comfortable for people to have before they get to a really bad point. The only way to do that is by sharing so people see they’re not alone. 

KM: I agree and it’s why I started Bonny Co. We don’t know what we don’t know. As a mother, how do you teach your children about the importance of wellbeing and mental health?

MR: We talk a lot about feelings in our household - and have lots of feelings related books - to try and make it something that the boys can begin to name and recognise. Now when they’re sad about something they’ll often tell me they feel sad and why. I do the same, sharing with them if I’m grumpy from lack of sleep, for example. I feel like a massive part of the escalation of my own mental health challenges was trying to hide and ignore feelings. So I hope by making it part of our everyday life it will stop that hidden build up of emotions and normalise being open about any negative feelings.

KM: What does happiness mean to you?

MR: Happiness means being content. I think we overlook the feeling of contentment because it’s quite low key from the outside. But those times when you look around and realise you don’t wish for more from this moment, that it’s exactly what you could wish for right now, those times feel like the core of happiness for me. 

Interview by Kelly Müller. | Images Untitled Studio | Connect @megsraynor