On those particularly tough days of motherhood, I don’t want to hear, “You’re not alone,” because in that moment, I feel utterly isolated. Both my kids are sprawled on the kitchen floor, wailing over a tiny red truck, their cries piercing through the air like annoying needles.
Please don’t say, “This too shall pass,” because right now, I’m standing over my son, who’s refusing to tackle his homework despite my pleading, bribing, and begging. The frustration bubbles up within me, and I’m frightened by how I sound—like the very parent I vowed I would never become.
And whatever you do, don’t tell me, “Cherish every moment,” because it’s impossible for me to find joy in my current state—my hair is greasy and thrown up in a messy ponytail as I follow my toddler, who’s determined to eat his rice straight from the take-out container, leaving a sticky trail in his wake.
Don’t follow it up with, “A messy house is a sign of a well-loved home,” because that doesn’t ease my anxiety when I see toys strewn everywhere.
While I’m grateful that these dark days don’t occur every day, when they do, the last thing I need is unsolicited advice. I don’t want comforting platitudes to dull my pain. My feelings are valid, and I want to sit with the heaviness of that experience for a moment—acknowledge how challenging things are right now—before I can move forward.
I always encourage my children to embrace their feelings, to identify and then release them. I need that same space for myself. I rarely voice complaints about motherhood; I recognize how fortunate I am to spend my days with my kids. Yet, on those darker days, I crave authenticity—both from myself and those around me.
Parents crave less advice and more genuine listening. This means listening without judgment or the need to tidy everything up. What we need to hear is, “Yes, this is hard. Yes, you can feel utterly alone.” And please, skip the follow-up, “But you’ll miss these times.” Of course, we know that!
I understand that these tough days will pass, but when I’m in the thick of it, I want the freedom to experience that darkness without guilt or pretense. It’s a vital part of healing. By allowing myself to feel, I can eventually find my way back into the light.
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In summary, motherhood is a rollercoaster of emotions, and it’s essential to allow ourselves to feel the lows without the pressure of pretending everything is fine. Seeking genuine connection and understanding can be profoundly healing.