How Parenting Led to Re-Parenting Myself.

Parenthood didn’t just make me a mother.

It made me meet myself.

I’m two years from 40, a single mother to a toddler, and training to become a counsellor. Life feels radically different from my 20s and 30s, and yet, in many ways, I’m still learning the same lessons. Only now, I’m learning them through my son.

I wonder if wisdom really comes with age, or if other factors are at play. Could it be an innate change, where becoming a parent automatically makes you more self-aware? Or is it that training to be a counsellor has helped me gradually see myself and other people’s behaviours in a more complex way? Either way, it’s a bittersweet stage of my life.

Life now is extremely different from my 20s and 30s. Back then, I was stuck in a cycle, repeating negative patterns, extremely self-conscious, and very critical of myself. Somewhere along the way, something shifted. I do believe age has played a role, and another significant influence has been personal therapy. However, the biggest impact on my growth is, without a doubt, becoming a mother. Nothing can make you more resilient than that.

Living in the moment

I am learning daily from my son. I’m learning to take life less seriously and to be present in the moment. The other day, we were on the bus, and I just grabbed him out of his buggy and carried him to the top deck. He had no idea the top deck even existed. Something so simple was like discovering another world. We sat together at the front, as if we were driving the bus, just like my sister and I would do when we were little. That simple moment took me straight back to a childhood memory, and I enjoyed it just as much as my son did.

People-pleasing

My son is teaching me how to stop being such a people-pleaser. This one is massive. He knows what he likes and what he doesn’t, and I fully support that. I want to foster this quality in him as much as I can, which challenges me to do the same. For example, if something doesn’t sit right with me, I’m learning to say it, even if it makes someone uncomfortable. Because guess what? I’m not responsible for how other people feel. That’s their problem, not mine. I speak up more, not in a mean way, but with a diplomatic, assertive approach. I find that this earns me more respect.

Boundaries

Don’t cross my boundaries! If I don’t want someone in my life, they won’t be in it. If I don’t like the way someone treats me, I’ll speak up. If I don’t like the way someone treats my son, they’ll hear about it. If I don’t want to do something, it’s a no from me. Boundaries are essential for protecting our peace. Without peace, I’m irritable, and if I’m irritable, I’m not being my best self. I also have boundaries with my son. If I don’t feel like jumping on the trampoline one day, I say, “Mummy isn’t feeling it today.” He learns through my behaviour.

Asking for help

There shouldn’t be an expectation placed on mothers that they can do it all. I’ve had to learn the hard way that asking for help isn’t a form of failure, it’s a form of self-care. It’s also about loosening control and trusting that others want to help me. Once I shifted my mindset, it became much easier to do. Trying to do it all only sets me up to fail by placing unrealistic expectations on myself. The more relaxed, recharged, and secure I feel, the more my son benefits too.

Relational functioning

There has been significant growth in the way I relate to people, especially in intimate relationships. Through therapy and training, I realised that I was stuck in a pattern of accepting connection based on availability rather than actively choosing partners. This was linked to early attachment experiences characterised by emotional inconsistency and a lack of safety. As a result, being chosen felt more regulating than exercising agency, and attention was unconsciously associated with security.

Now, I can be confidently clear about what I want, trusting that I don’t need to chase it. I’ve learnt to accept people as they are rather than feeling compelled to reassure, rescue, or over-explain in response to emotional unavailability. I’ve shifted from anxious attachment to being grounded in self-respect and emotional safety.

Perhaps wisdom doesn’t come with age alone, it comes with love, patience, and the courage to face yourself. In parenting my son, I’ve found a mirror for my own growth, and with every moment, I’m learning to parent the most important person in my life: me.

Parenting didn’t save me.

Awareness did.

Parenting simply opened the door.

Navigating Christmas and Co-parenting.

I’ve been seeing quite a few posts on social media this past week about navigating Christmas and co-parenting. I also had a chat with my cousin about it too. It’s a tough one. No parent wants to willingly be without their children on Christmas Day. However, where co-parenting is concerned, sometimes it’s just not an option.

When Mum Doesn’t Get Sick Days.

There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that only single parents understand.

It’s the type that sinks into your bones and makes your whole body feel heavy.

The kind where you’re sick, exhausted, aching… and still the only adult in the room.

This week I came down with a sinus infection, the kind that takes over one side of your face, makes your teeth hurt, your eye throb, and sleep impossible. Antibiotics, paracetamol, steam inhalers, the whole thing. And yet… the morning routine didn’t stop. The meals didn’t cook themselves. The football class didn’t cancel itself just because I couldn’t breathe properly.

I still showed up.

I still parented.

I still did it all.

I didn’t have the luxury of rest, because when you’re a single mum, your body doesn’t get sick days. You don’t clock out. The world doesn’t pause for you.

And doing all of this while unwell hit a different part of my heart, the part that remembers the early months after giving birth, when I was recovering from surgery, drowning in anxiety, and still parenting through it with almost no support. It reminded me of how many times I’ve done this alone. And how many times I’ve survived it.

When You’re Sick, You Notice Everything More

Parenting while unwell makes everything louder:

• the crying
• the neediness (which is never their fault)
• the pressure of the clock
• the mess
• the responsibility
• the mental load
• the fact that you’re the only one who’s going to do anything

Even the simplest tasks, like making dinner, feels like climbing a hill in the rain. I wanted to be patient with my son; I always want to. But it was one of those weeks where just holding myself upright felt like an achievement.

That’s the bit no one talks about, the guilt that creeps in when you can’t give your child the attention, the playfulness, the presence you usually give so naturally. And yet you still push through, because that’s what mums do.

The Moment That Hit Me

When Brodie’s dad came round to see him, I’d already told him I was unwell.

He walked in, saw me clearly struggling, and… nothing.

No “Is there anything I can do to help?”

No “You’ve done amazing today.”

No acknowledgement at all.

Instead, he launched into his own problems, work stress, people “stabbing him in the back,” a whole emotional monologue I didn’t have the capacity to hold.

And in that moment, something in me clicked.

I don’t need emotional support from him.

And I don’t expect it anymore.

But I can notice the absence without blaming myself for it.

It was a reminder of why we’re not together. Why I’m healing. Why I’ve grown so much.

It was a reminder that I deserve gentleness. I deserve support. I deserve reciprocity, and I’m learning to give those things to myself.

I simply said “Okay,” set a boundary, told him what Brodie needed, and went to rest.

The old me would have tried to care-take his emotions even while sick.

The new me refuses to do that anymore.

Doing the Work Alone Doesn’t Make You Weak, It Makes You Superhuman

Parenting through sickness is one of the hardest parts of single motherhood. It makes you confront, in a very physical way, just how much you do and how invisible it often is.

But it also showed me something else:

I’m so much stronger now.

So much clearer.

So much more grounded in my worth.

And the truth is, even on days when I’m exhausted and hurting, my son is held.

He’s loved.

He’s cared for.

He’s safe.

By me.

And that’s the kind of mother I’m proud to be.

To any mum reading this who’s parenting through pain or sickness…

You are doing an incredible job.

Even if you’re lying on the floor while your toddler drives cars up your legs.

Even if the dinner is late.

Even if the patience isn’t perfect.

Even if you’re surviving more than thriving today.

You are still showing up.

Your child will remember your love, not your sick days.

And if no one has said this to you lately,

I’m proud of you.