“If I’m prioritizing myself then I’m failing as a mom, as a wife…as a woman really.”

My words echoed around me. Sharp and loud. Was my therapist suddenly taking the longest pause ever? I wanted to rush past them, put the sentence behind me, but we still had 40 minutes left in the session and I wasn’t getting off that easy. 

How did I get here?

I *know* that caring for myself is crucial to being able to show up for others.

I *know* that colonial patriarchy conditions girls to become women whose whole identity is to smile and serve.

I *know* that mothers are people containing multitudes. After all these years why was I still falling victim to mom guilt?

Mom guilt: noun. the all-consuming feeling of being the worst mom ever even when you're doing your best.

It sneaks up when I sleep in. When one task out of a million slips through the cracks on my mental to do list. It grabs at my throat when I dare speak a need. Grips at my heart when I crave some alone time. Jabs me in the belly when I say no to someone else to say yes to me. When I have to admit that I cannot do it all.

I thought I beat mom guilt. Turns out, I cleared it from my mind, but it was still living in my body.

On my first go around of motherhood (at 17 btw) I was determined to do things my way. And I tried. I endured shaming and criticism from my former partner and our families. Despite my best efforts, it still got to me. I pushed myself to stay in integrity with what felt right to me, but investing in my well-being was always shadowed by the sensation that I was doing something wrong. I lived in constant tension trying to be the perfect mom by my standards AND everyone else’s. I gave out endless yeses. I was trapped in a cycle of falling apart, mending myself, not changing my practices, then falling apart again. Not only mothering my own child but my siblings, partner, even friends. 

Once I became a single mom though I thought I beat it. Now less people were competing for my time and projecting on to me. Eventually it was just me, my son, and my cat. I was finally free!! Right?

Cue baby #2. Being pregnant, as pregnancy does, quickly shined the light on parts of me I suppressed. Pregnancy spotlighted rules and stories woven into my subconscious that were older than I am. Narratives that are not mine to carry.

Before the second initiation of motherhood I thought I was a powerhouse - I balanced it all with a smile and everyone applauded me for not cracking. It felt good for people to approve of me. I thought that would make me the perfect mother. I thought being perfect would make me finally feel like enough,

I baked gingerbread pancakes from scratch at 6 am for the class party by day and did mock trial arguments in law school by night. I did pilates, supervised homework, went to school, worked and I showed up for friends and family when they called. I was a Supermom. A performance of Perfection. 

Never mind the the soul crushing depression. The untreated PTSD controlling my life. The crippling anxiety and the intense sense of loneliness. That was backstage stuff. I was putting on a show and damn, was I good.

This time around though…Motherhood came in like a storm. My pregnancy was difficult from beginning to end. I literally gave birth while I had COVID. I was also in the first year of being married which together stirred up all the conditioning I thought I had conquered.

How could I be the perfect mom and wife if I was too drained to perform? Being perfect required performance. It required being super. Carpal tunnel, anemia, and postpartum depression did not feel very Super. 

Mom guilt joined me now center stage. Fitting in seamlessly with my song and dance. Where was this coming from and why was it so easy to slip back into?

Many of us are all too familiar with the image of the self-sacrificing Mom. She is willing to sacrifice it all for her family. Including sacrificing herself. She eats last, showers last, and her eyes are the last to close for sleep. She’s happy to do it. It’s her purpose. If she has any needs, we don’t know them. Her desires are whispered at best and seen only through her eyes at worst. The "good" selfless mom who does it all is in shows, books, movies. She's also in our homes. In our ancestral narratives. In our nervous systems.

We watched our own mothers and maybe even their mothers abandon themselves in the name of motherly love. We watched them yearn for years past. For pre-baby bodies, sense of self, and freedom. We listened as they told stories of dreams that blew away in the wind once babies came along. “ I wanted to… but then I had you. I regret nothing. Being a mom is my purpose. My dreams don’t matter.” 

We’ve seen their old pictures full of carefree laughter, and lightness. Something so different from the woman in front of us today. 

We’ve watched how the whole year we’ve placed the burden of the world on the shoulders of mothers. How we reserve one day to thank them, celebrate them and maybe gift them an opportunity for some relaxation and solitude. The next day though, it’s back to being our problem solvers, answer-havers, and spirit soothers.

I think of my mom being blamed by family for her husband’s toxicity - her sin was spending time with friends. I think of all the mothers I’ve known - the ride or die women who stuck around even through betrayal, abuse, and neglect. 

I know how we got here. I can trace the lines from colonialism and its patriarchy to the drained look on our mother’s faces. For so long we’ve all bought into this idea that this is how a mother shows up. 

So, when I was left fresh out of the ego death of becoming a mother again with no identity to cling to I reached for something my nervous system knew well. It hurts, but its kind of all I’ve known.

I tried to power through falling right into the patterns of my foremothers: depleted but pushing onward with the fire of resentment growing in my heart. It’s amazing how easy it is to slip into the comfy sleeve of woe is me. 

“Nobody cares!” “I’m such a good woman for suffering in the name of love!” “Taking care of my needs first makes me wanna puke!” These were half truths. A script I learned to follow. But it was a script for someone else’s show. It was tired, outdated, and making me miserable. 

So I sat there in therapy. Sitting with the weight of my core beliefs. “If I am not serving someone else all the time, I’m a bad woman. If I can’t handle it all alone and with grace, I’m not good enough. I’m not worthy.” I cried and I yelled (yes I had to do a pillow scream for this one) at the silent agreement that I’ve been living. An agreement that some woman way before me was forced to enter. An agreement to live in between the lines of everyone else’s storyline. To forever be a supporting character and never a lead. Even when the show is about you. 

I haven’t completely found my way out of mom guilt. But this session shifted something for me. I envisioned the kind of woman I want to be instead. One that trusts in my unique process. That confidently puts herself first because she knows that is the only way she can show up for others with integrity, love, and purpose. She doesn’t apologize for it and she doesn’t overexplain. I could see her so vividly that I know she is real. I just need to take small steps everyday to become her. The first step is taking a final bow from performing as the perfect mom - recognizing what isn’t mine and giving myself permission to put it down:

I vow not to live a life of treating myself like an afterthought.

I vow not to confine myself to being only giving and never receiving.

I will not bring my children to feel as though they are the reason my dreams died, but instead why my dreams came alive.

Motherhood is a part of my purpose. It is not the whole story. Your story has more to it too. The world needs you to live it fully.

Whether you’re mothering children or community, you deserve to pour into yourself. When you create space for your rest, your joy, and your pleasure you become a magnet for opportunity, creative inspiration, and clarity for aligned action.

From this full place we can envision new possibilities. We can show up enthusiastically ready to shower ourselves and our loved ones with love. 

So the next time you’re feeling guilty about doing something that is purely for you, remember your well being is in everyone’s best interest. 

You are worthy of the care, generosity, compassion, and energy that you give out to others. 

Practical tools and resources:

Multi-dimensional Mama Group

“Free to be ourselves,” Our Mothers’ Gardens Podcast

“Containing Multitudes,” Our Mothers’ Gardens Podcast

Putting Down Coping Mechanisms that No Longer Serve You, Help Me Be Me Podcast 

Redefining Yourself - Shedding Older Selves, Help Me Be Me Podcast

Recovering from Mom Guilt by Nancy Colier 

“Motherhood isn’t the problem, patriarchy is” by Rebecca Woolf 

Dark and Divine Feminine Energy, Shadow Work by Melissa Smith