How Mom Guilt and Comparison Keep Women Stuck (and How to Start Over Anyway)
Last night, right before bed, I stumbled across a video on YouTube that stopped me in my tracks. The speaker said: “Ask yourself—who are you? And are you bold enough to live outside of convention, outside of how people think your life should look?”
It hit me hard, because only hours earlier, I had been tangled in those exact same thoughts. Wrestling with guilt, with comparison, with the feeling that maybe I haven’t given my kids the life they truly deserve. Yet…
The Weight of Comparison
Sometimes I think about the moms from my old mommy & me group. Back then, we were all just figuring out diapers and playdates. Now, their kids are off to college, and many of those women went on to live more “traditional looking” lives. I’ll admit that comparison sneaks in at times. I wonder if I failed because my path looks so different.
But here’s the truth: from the very beginning, motherhood for me has never followed a conventional script.
All of my kids threw middle fingers to due date and developed on their own timeline. Speech delays, autism diagnoses, potty training years later than other kids, even walking. My daughter didn’t take her first steps until after she turned two. My now-15-year-old wore diapers until the very day he turned five. Every single milestone looked “late” by someone else’s standard.
I used to cry out to G.U.S. (God/Universe/Source) and ask, “Why did you give me children who deserve a mom with the patience and understanding of a saint?” Because I wasn’t it by any means.
Now I see the bigger picture. It was divine timing training me to say f*ck what everyone else is doing, and to trust that my kids and I were always meant to walk an unconventional path.
And still, guilt shows up like an uninvited guest. I feel bad when my kids ask, “What are we doing today?” and I don’t have an answer. I feel bad when they want to do things and we can’t. I feel bad when I can’t give them the same kind of “normal” life that other families seem to have—in this moment.
The Truth About Guilt
If it were just me, I’d be okay with not following convention. I’ve always been pulled toward breaking the mold that I’m sure gave my mom many gray hairs. But when it comes to my kids, the guilt cuts deeper.
And yet, every time I try to force myself into the “normal” box, it feels wrong. The Universe always finds a way to redirect me back to my true path. It’s like life won’t let me play small or pretend.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy. I often feel like I’m standing at the edge of a massive shift. I can see it in the distance but can’t quite touch it yet. It’s such a conflicting place to be in: terrified that maybe I’ll never reach it. Yet…
The Power of Yet
That tiny word—yet—has become a lifeline for me.
I can’t always give my kids the life I wish I could… yet.
I haven’t stepped fully into the vision I see for us… yet.
I don’t always feel like the mom who has it all together… yet.
Yet is the crack in the door where hope slips in. It’s the reminder that sitting in the unknown doesn’t mean it’s the end. It’s an invitation. A chance to pivot, to rewrite the story, to unbecome everything I thought I had to be and step into who I was always meant to be.
It’s in that space of yet—the in-between, the almost, the not-quite-there—that I’ve learned the most about myself. And it’s where I realized I had a choice: to keep forcing myself into a version of life that looked “safe,” or to finally stop pretending and model something different for my children.
The Pivot Moment
The turning point came when my kids started noticing the cracks. My middle child asked me questions no child should ever have to wonder:
“Why don’t you and dad hug?”
“Why don’t you sleep in the same room?”
“Why don’t you go on dates?”
That was the moment I knew I could no longer pretend. I realized that staying in a marriage that was disconnected, silent, and one-sided wasn’t protecting my kids—it was teaching them that this is what love looks like. And I could not let that be their blueprint for relationships.
Choosing the Scary Unknown
So I chose the scary ass unknown and left.
Not because I wanted to blow up their world, but because I wanted to model courage. I wanted my kids to see me refuse to settle for “good enough.” I wanted them to know that love is supposed to feel alive, reciprocal, and nourishing—not like roommates silently enduring tolerable levels of unhappiness.
I’d be lying if I said the guilt disappeared. I still sometimes wish I could hand them the picture-perfect life. But I also know that what I’m giving them instead, the example of walking in truth, is a deeper inheritance than convention ever could be.
What I Want My Kids to Know
I want my sons to grow up as equal, loving partners, never using weaponized incompetence as an excuse to check out of their relationships. I want them to share in household duties, to raise children as active, engaged fathers if they choose to have kids, to build legacies with their partners, not on their backs.
I want my daughter to never settle, never dim her light, never sacrifice her essence just to stay connected to someone who refuses to see her magnificence.
And I want all of them to know that courage and truth are always worth choosing, even when they lead you down unconventional paths.
From Guilt to Example
Here’s the thing: many women stay in marriages and relationships that are no longer fulfilling, or even toxic, because they don’t want to disrupt their kids’ lives. But suffering in silence doesn’t shield them. Kids notice. They absorb the lack of love, the absence of connection and it can take root to spring up in their relationships as adults.
For me, guilt hasn’t disappeared. But I’ve learned that modeling authenticity is more powerful than modeling sacrifice.
So if you’re here because you’re standing at that same crossroads torn between what feels safe and what feels true, please hear this: choosing yourself isn’t selfish. It’s the bravest gift you’ll ever give your children.
