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All My Single Parent Self-Righteous Anger Just Hit Me
I’m not here to shame others. I’m here to unshame me.
A friend of mine posted an article on social media today. I read the headline and I just stared at it for a minute. The headline read “‘Self-care’ is not enough to fix how much moms are burnt out.” The only thing that made me click on the article is that I dearly love my friend and if it comes from her, I’m pretty much on board. I love her that much.
Oddly, being a worn-out-as-hell mom myself was a secondary reason I clicked in the first place. In some weird way that I am trying in this very moment to dissect, identifying as a mom seems something foreign to me. Like I’m a member of a club but only like in an auxiliary way. Like my kid is actually the one sponsoring me to be there but other people aren’t quite sold on me yet.
About 20 seconds into the article I got hit with a wave of self-righteous anger for which I was not prepared.
I am a single mother. I’m a mom but not like a “real mom.” Real moms are like the ones in the article I clicked on. I’m some sort of “other” mom.
Here’s where we need to hit the pause button. This essay is not about motherhood. I speak in this engendered way because I’m a woman. But, let’s be clear. What we’re talking about here is…
