Here’s a truth: I adore my mother.
Here’s another: I fear becoming her.
That might sound harsh or even ungrateful, especially considering the remarkable mother she has been. After divorcing my father when my brother and I were little, she single-handedly raised us. Juggling three jobs, she ensured we never went hungry, established rules, and was always ready to forgive our mistakes. She encouraged us to strive for excellence.
To do all of this, she sacrificed every aspect of her own life for my brother and me. Her social life and personal interests took a backseat, and she never found a way to exist outside the identity of a “single mom.” She devoted herself entirely to us, yet in doing so, she neglected to build a foundation for her own future as her children grew up.
Now that my brother and I are adults with our own kids, she delights in spending time with her grandchildren, which we try to arrange frequently. In between visits, she occupies her time with quiet activities. However, she lacks meaningful friendships, hobbies, or aspirations to pursue. And there seems to be no desire for change. From an outsider’s perspective, her life appears profoundly lonely.
Looking at her life makes me anxious about what lies ahead for me. I recently separated from my partner, leaving me as the sole caregiver for my two daughters. I am responsible for meeting all their needs, echoing the life my mother led around my current age.
I understand the immense effort required to raise children. It demands everything, and I’m prepared to give my all, just as my mother did for us. My daughters deserve no less.
Yet, when I observe my mother’s current situation, I realize that I don’t want that future for myself. The fear of repeating history looms over me. I’m scared of giving too much and having nothing left—despite her seeming happiness with her life, which she has every right to enjoy after years of struggle.
I know I wouldn’t find contentment in her circumstances. I need to establish a foundation for my life beyond motherhood—a life that begins after my children have grown and are building their own futures. I must invest time in nurturing friendships and pursuing my interests now to lay the groundwork for a fulfilling life later.
How can I offer as much as she did without sacrificing all that she sacrificed? How can I strike that delicate balance?
I could give what she gave and wait for my turn to thrive in another decade. Life doesn’t stop when the kids leave for college. In fact, I believe it can become even more rewarding at that stage.
However, patience has never been my strong suit.
Ultimately, I’ve realized that seeking balance may not be the correct approach. Embracing the idea that keeping a part of “me” means holding back slightly allows me to avoid sacrificing everything. Motherhood shouldn’t equate to ultimate sacrifice; you don’t have to give everything to be a good mom—even as a single parent—who raises kind children and encourages them to thrive.
I also need to step back from fearing that I might end up like my mother. Instead, I should allow her the grace to enjoy her life. She fills her days in a way that brings her joy, and perhaps she is living the life she always desired.
Sometimes, I think my mother inadvertently found herself in her current life. I tell myself that she didn’t realize that by giving us so much, she would leave little for herself. But perhaps I never asked her if that narrative was true. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing, balancing the needs of her children with her own.
If that’s the case, there’s much I can learn from her.