It was a busy morning — the kind where everyone needed something at the same time. Somehow, I still managed to get ready for my workout. My kids were with their dad in the other room, and I finally had my headphones on, beginning what had been a consistent routine for the past year.
But that day, just as I started my warm-up, a familiar pang of guilt hit my chest. I could hear my kids in the background, struggling to settle down. Their dad was doing his best — he’s incredibly supportive and perfectly fine with me taking this time for myself — but still, a part of me felt like I was abandoning my responsibility. My mind instantly went into “mom mode”: maybe I should stop, go check on them, make sure everything’s okay.
That guilt? It’s something every mom knows too well.
The moment we do something for ourselves a little voice whispers, “You should be doing something more important like cleaning the cupboard, or reading that book you bought from the store, or making healthy snacks”
For a really long time, I thought this was just part of being a “good mom.” But I began to realize that this guilt didn’t come from me. It actually came from what society had taught me.
The society has conditioned the moms to be the sole caretaker. She can be the only one who must handle everything related to the home and kids. Her worth lies only in her sacrifice. When she is putting herself first, even for a moment, somehow makes her selfish.
We have all internalized this message for generations. So even the simplest act of self-care starts to feel like a luxury we haven’t earned.
But here’s the truth that changed everything for me: self-care isn’t selfish. It’s survival.
When I began taking care of myself, I noticed how differently I showed up in my life. I was calmer, more patient, and more present. My energy wasn’t scattered anymore. My home felt lighter because I wasn’t running on empty.
Slowly, I started trusting the people around me more. My husband could handle bedtime stories just fine without me hovering. My parents loved spending time with the kids, giving me an hour of quiet. I realized that when I stepped back a little, everyone around me stepped up. The world didn’t fall apart — it actually became more balanced.
Now, I do my skincare routine without guilt. I read my books without rushing. I take my workouts seriously — even if that means the kids are making a mess in the living room while I’m doing squats. Sometimes they join me, sometimes they don’t. Either way, I remind myself — this is their time, and this is mine.
Because taking time for myself doesn’t take anything away from them — it adds to what I can give. I’m not just teaching my kids responsibility or routine; I’m showing them how to value their own well-being. I’m showing them that rest and joy are as important as hard work.
Motherhood taught me that when I care for myself, I’m not abandoning my family — I’m nurturing it differently.
A mom who is fulfilled, healthy, and happy creates a home that feels the same.
And that’s the kind of mother I want to be.
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