On those tough days of motherhood, don’t tell me, “You’re not alone,” because right now, I feel completely isolated. Both kids are on the kitchen floor, wailing over a tiny red truck, their cries piercing through the air like little needles against my skin.
Please refrain from saying, “This too shall pass,” because I am entrenched in the chaos at this very moment—standing over my son who is adamantly refusing to tackle his homework despite my attempts to encourage him through bribery and pleading. The frustration rises in my throat, and I hear myself yelling in a way that terrifies me, sounding just like the parent I vowed never to become.
And please skip the advice of “Enjoy every moment,” because right now, I cannot summon the energy to appreciate my unkempt appearance, with greasy hair pulled back in a disheveled ponytail as I chase after the baby, who insists on devouring his rice straight from the take-out box, leaving a sticky trail in his wake throughout the house.
Don’t even think about telling me, “A messy house is a sign of a happy home,” because I am not you, and the clutter that fills our space sends waves of anxiety through me.
I’m grateful that these dark days aren’t frequent, but when they strike, the last thing I need is more unsolicited advice. I don’t want sugar-coated reassurances to dull my pain. My feelings are valid during these times. The heavy cloud looms over me, and I don’t need a false light to distract from the reality of how difficult things are right now. I want to sit with the discomfort, to truly experience the weight of it before I move forward.
I often encourage my children to embrace their feelings, to acknowledge them and then let them go. I need to do the same. I’m not one to typically complain about my kids or begrudge my role as a mother—I recognize the privilege of spending my days with them. But on those dark days, I crave authenticity—from myself and from others. It feels like there’s little space for genuine honesty in parenting circles. Speaking the truth often carries the risk of being labeled ungrateful, bitter, or whiny.
What we truly need as parents is less unsolicited advice and more empathetic listening. Real listening, without judgment or an agenda. We need to hear, “Yes, this is hard. Yes, sometimes you feel utterly alone.” And we don’t need to follow it up with reminders about how we’ll miss these moments once they’re gone. Of course, we’ll miss them—we already know that.
The dark days inevitably pass, and I’m aware of that truth. Yet, when I find myself in the thick of them, I need the space to fully experience the darkness without pretenses or guilt. It’s a therapeutic process that enables me to navigate through the shadows and eventually step into the light.
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In summary, those tough days of motherhood can feel overwhelming and isolating. Instead of offering platitudes, let’s embrace the reality of our feelings and support one another through the challenges we face.
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