There are days when I feel like I’m falling short in every possible way. Days when my body is tired before I’ve even opened my eyes. When the mess feels too big, the noise too loud, and the smallest task feels like a mountain I don’t have the strength to climb.
And on those days, the guilt creeps in like a fog I can’t shake.
Because I’m not just me. I’m Mum.
And I wonder if I’m letting them down.
The Invisible Weight
Mental health is strange, isn’t it? Some days I laugh, I play, I bake fairy cakes and dance in the kitchen. And other days? I shut down. I snap. I go quiet when they need me loud, or loud when they need me calm.
It’s not that I don’t love them. I do — ferociously, endlessly.
It’s that my brain sometimes lies.
It tells me I’m not good enough. That I’m ruining them. That they’ll remember the shouting, not the cuddles. That one day they’ll look back and only see the cracks.
I know deep down those things aren’t true. But in the moment, they feel so real.
What They See vs. What I Feel
They see me getting back up, even after a tough day.
They see me trying, always.
They see me loving them through the fog, even when I can’t explain it.
They don’t measure my worth in perfectly folded laundry or Pinterest-level parenting.
They just want me — my hugs, my attention, my presence. Even when I’m not my best.
Why I’m Writing This
Because maybe someone else needs to hear it too.
You’re not alone.
Struggling with your mental health doesn’t make you a bad parent. It makes you a human one.
You are allowed to have bad days. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to feel the heaviness — and still be a good mum.
What I Try to Remember (Even When It’s Hard):
- Love shows up in messy, imperfect ways.
- My children don’t need a perfect mum — they need me, showing up, however I can.
- Resting doesn’t mean giving up.
- Repair matters more than perfection. Apologising. Explaining. Holding them close after a hard moment — that’s real parenting.
- I’m teaching them something powerful: that emotions are okay. That people have hard days. That healing is part of life.
Final Thought:
If you’re a mum reading this with tears in your eyes, wondering if you’re failing — I promise you, you’re not. The fact that you care this much already means you’re doing more than you know.
You’re not a failure. You’re doing your best — and your best is enough.
Even on the days when it doesn’t feel like it.
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