I Hate “Mom-Guilt”

I know in my head that I should not feel guilty about letting my husband take the kids for the evening, leaving me alone in an empty house with a laptop to have some “me time”. But here I am, feeling the waves of discomfort, loneliness, emptiness.

I know enough about myself that when it hurts like this to separate, it means I REALLY needed to take a break.

When I start to feel that tug of guilt (I will actually feel it physically in my chest), I know I am emotionally running on fumes. It means my inner exhaustion has pushed me into survival mode where I am taking from my children and my husband instead of giving. In this mode I am fooling myself, thinking I am heroic and persevering through the stress in order to take care of my family. In truth, I am carrying on to avoid feeling like a burden or a drain, not because I love my family. I am holding on tight, depending on the feeling of purpose and worth in being a “good” mom. And that is not a healthy place for me, let alone for my family.

It’s amazing how the day to day demands of motherhood can erode our mental and emotional health so drastically.

I know many mothers deal with “mom-guilt”. Everything I’ve seen in all of my easily accessed resources (Instagram, YouTube, Mommy podcasts, pediatricians, fellow moms) about “mom-guilt” boil the solution down to, just don’t feel guilty. Right? The logic behind this is that there’s no need to feel guilty about taking time for myself, therefore there is no reason to feel guilty. So just stop it.

This is a funny line of thinking. “Mom-guilt” is apparently a lesser emotion. Every other emotion should be met with compassion and curiosity to get to the bottom of feeling that way. But “mom-guilt” is so ridiculous it should be treated by ignoring it and shoving it away. Sure, sounds good to me!

Another angle to approach mom-guilt comes to mind: you only feel guilty because the patriarchy has taught you to feel that your place is at home with the kids. A cold, feminist voice will tell you that if you are feeling guilty for taking time to yourself, you are a victim of an old fashioned mindset. So proudly go get your self care, gurl! And tell your man to do the damn dishes!

There very well may be some moms who experience “mom-guilt” because of the patriarchy. I don’t negate that perspective.

I feel, however, we must take more responsibility over our own selves and feelings. There is a reason a woman has internalized the message that her worth is only in the home. THAT reason is the piece of herself that she desperately needs to take responsibility for. Follow that thread as far as it will go and you will find out what you need.

Today, what I need is a recharge, a moment of re-calibration where I can remind myself that I exist, that my heart exists. I need to remind my body how good it feels to live from a place of passion, honesty, and intentionality instead of the robotic survival mode I had checked into. I’m a human, a child of God. I am divinely permitted space to be myself, boundaries to be respected, limits to what I can or can’t do, and rest. God Himself rested.

I will conclude today’s post with one final point. Labeling it “mom guilt” is dismissive. It’s a feeling of guilt. Men feel it, children feel it, single women feel it, moms feel it. Every human feels it from time to time unless you’re a psychopath.

Whatever you call it, if you’re feeling some way about taking time to yourself, mom or not, you need to explore that feeling with curiosity and without a judgmental label. You and I are more than just these stupid hashtags. I hate what social media has done to us in pulling us away from our true selves. And it can be so sneaky!!!! We can so easily internalize stupid stuff like #momguilt.

We all need to give ourselves permission to be human again, to listen to our intuition, to take strength from our trusted relationships, and to breath some fresh air.

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About Me

I’m Alina, mother of three littles, living in Northern California. I started this blog when we lived in a trailer. Now, I am profoundly grateful to say we are living in an apartment. Regardless, motherhood still resembles a pineapple! The juicy gold is enjoyed once you get past the prickly bits. Join me as imperfect, messy, chaotic days come and go in the daily grind of sacrificial love.