Breaking Cycles, Not Myself: Motherhood and Healing

 Loving myself is apparently a radical act. It seems to aggravate the people who don't see themselves the same way. And you know what? That’s okay. Because I’m falling in love with myself all over again.

I have survived 100% of my worst days—every heartbreak, disappointment, and setback—and I know there is so much more life ahead, not just for me but for my girls.

For the past ten months, I’ve been healing from a breakup. And let me be honest: I haven’t always been intentional about it. I got caught up in bitterness for a while, replaying scenarios in my head, trying to find the “what ifs” and “should haves.” But recently, I had a breakthrough.

In therapy, I told my therapist, “I am tired of beating myself up over my failed relationship. Tired of analyzing every little thing I could have done differently while the other person walks away without a second thought.” But it ran deeper than that. She asked me to share the questions I often ask myself. Here they were:

• What do I do to make people treat me a certain way?

• What could I have done better to keep my family together?

• When is the right time to move on?

• Why do I feel anxious, afraid, and unworthy of a new relationship?

• When will I feel better about my decision?

Her response was simple but powerful: “Healing is a process, and you have to be patient with yourself.” I had heard those words before, but this time, I let them settle into my heart, mind, and soul. She asked me, “Are you really ready to heal?” Because healing requires changing the way I view myself, my situation, and my mindset.

I told her, “I’m ready.”

Then she hit me with a question that made me pause: “What’s behind the anger you’re carrying?”

Whew. That answer wasn’t short.

I was angry because my transition into motherhood was nothing like I imagined. Actually, I never really imagined motherhood at all. While other girls grew up dreaming of being moms, I didn’t. So when I became one, I was unprepared—spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. And I never imagined doing it alone.

Anger became my go-to emotion, but really, it was masking deeper fears—fear of failure, fear of not being enough, fear of being unworthy of support. The avoidant behavior of my child’s father reinforced the self-doubt I already battled. Every time I expressed my feelings and was met with indifference, it whispered to the little girl inside me: “You are not safe. You are not valued. You are not ready.” So I withdrew.

Since childhood, I learned to smile and push through. I carried a false sense of confidence, afraid to show my real emotions because they were often misinterpreted as disrespect. I constantly heard, “You’re too opinionated,” when I was just expressing my feelings. Instead of being met with understanding, I was met with dismissal.

Motherhood peeled back those layers of unresolved wounds. Suddenly, I was looking into my daughters’ eyes, seeing my younger self—the misunderstood little girl who swallowed her words to avoid conflict. And I knew, deep in my soul, that I didn’t want my daughters to inherit those same struggles.

One belief that has truly impacted my motherhood experience is the idea that when a woman has a baby, she alone is responsible. My own parents reinforced this mindset when I became a mom. “You had the baby; it’s on you.” And to this day, I feel the weight of that belief. Yes, I know I have more support than some, but let’s be real—who wants to live a life where they have to be grateful for crumbs when they deserve the whole damn loaf?

I had a conversation with my mom about this, and I told her: “This mindset keeps our culture stuck. Instead of requiring men to rise above the bare minimum, we create excuses for them.” The old “boys will be boys” mentality is why I ended up in a relationship that was doomed from the start.

I don’t believe Black men and women are prepared for the shift that parenthood brings into a relationship. I watched my mom do it all while my father provided financial support but left the emotional, mental, and physical labor to her. It seemed normal—until I started seeing men who actually showed up for their partners in every way. And I realized, this is what should be normal.

But I also realized that I played a role. I didn’t speak up. And when I finally did, the reaction I got reinforced the belief that my voice didn’t matter. That left me feeling stuck and resentful—toward my ex, toward motherhood, even toward myself.

I love my children, but my motherhood experience has been tainted by this struggle. In therapy, I finally let it all out. My therapist reminded me that I am loved, I am important, and I am worthy of real support. She assured me that this pain is temporary, but I have to do the work to shift my mindset.

I admitted something to her that I had been afraid to say out loud: “I wish I had known how permanent motherhood feels. And doing it alone makes me hate myself for making the wrong choice.”

And you know what? She reassured me that I’m not the only mother who has felt this way.

With the help of therapy, self-reflection, and even ChatGPT (because yes, I use AI to help process my thoughts—don’t judge me!), I am committed to renewing my mindset. I am learning to accept the things I cannot change and to find the good in the things that are unchangeable.

I hold space for the mothers who chose motherhood but still have moments of doubt. For the women who love their children but also grieve the life they thought they’d have.

I am learning to be softer with myself. To be honest about my journey. And to remind myself daily that I am not alone.

Here are some affirmations that I’ve been using to speak life into my inner child. I hope they bring you the same comfort they bring me:

• I am worthy of love, support, and partnership.

• I am a good mother, even on my hardest days.

• My feelings are valid, and my voice matters.

• I release the past and embrace the future with hope.

• I deserve peace, joy, and happiness in motherhood.

If you needed this today, know that you are not alone. Healing is messy. Motherhood is overwhelming. But you are strong, you are seen, and you are loved.

Better is coming—because better is already within you.