When Mothers Disappear Inside Caregiving - The hidden cost of doing it all for our kids and forgetting our own needs

"I Just Want My Kids to Be Happy"

There is a quiet story many women carry, a story that sounds responsible, loving, selfless. A voice that says: "My family comes first." And of course, there is beauty in devotion, and there is also a hidden cost when devotion slowly becomes self-abandonment.

Something I have noticed over and over again—in my own life, in conversations with women, and in my work with families—is how easy it is for motherhood to become our entire identity. Somewhere along the way, we stop being women who are also mothers and become mothers who no longer remember the women we once were.

And some of us have been practicing this kind of self-abandonment since childhood.

I know I have. Many mothers spend years caring for everyone around them while postponing their own needs.

The exercise class can wait. The creative project can wait. The friendship can wait.

The rest can wait. The dream can wait.

Eventually, they stop asking themselves what they need at all. The irony is that most women do this because they deeply love their children. They believe that denying their own needs is part of being a good mother. That somehow, if they sacrifice enough, their children will be happier.

And the paradox is that children often experience something very different from what we intend. They don't simply see a loving mother, they also see an exhausted one, a stressed one, sometimes a lonely one, a sad or angry mom. Sometimes a resentful one. A woman whose joy has slowly disappeared beneath the weight of taking care of everyone else.

Children are incredibly sensitive to emotional atmospheres. Even when we don't say it out loud, they notice. They notice when we are constantly overwhelmed, when joy disappears from our lives, when everyone else's needs seem more important than our own. Sometimes they even begin carrying a burden that was never theirs to carry. They start feeling responsible for our happiness, responsible for our stress, for our sacrifice. And that is a very heavy load for a child.

Most of the children and teens I work with carry some version of this story. Many describe feeling like a burden, many worry about causing more stress for their parents.

One teenager recently told me: "Sometimes I don't even feel allowed to be sad because my mom does everything to make me happy." or "If I ask for something else, I'll make mom stressed", or even "If I tell them I am not doing ok, they will worry about me - and they are already stressed enough. They keep yealling and fighting".

Imagine carrying that. In silence. Alone. Imagine believing your sadness, your needs, your feelings and worries might hurt the people you love.

Last year, I worked with a young boy whose story has stayed with me. His parents were worried about his behavior. He stayed up late, constantly asked for one more game, complained of stomach aches that only his father could soothe, and seemed unable to settle at night. Everyone assumed something was wrong with him.

But as we listened more carefully, another story emerged: his father struggled with alcohol and episodes of anger. And underneath the boy's behaviors was a heartbreaking belief: "If I don't keep Dad busy, something bad might happen."

The staying up late. The constant requests, the need for Dad's attention.

They weren't random symptoms, they were attempts to keep his father safe.

And when his father drank or became angry, the boy quietly concluded that he wasn't enough to prevent it. That somehow he had failed.

This is just one example among many. The details change, but the pattern is often similar, as children are not meant to manage their parents' wellbeing.

They are not meant to carry the emotional weight of keeping adults safe, happy, regulated, or whole. They are meant to experience the security of knowing the adults around them are capable of caring for themselves.

This doesn't mean mothers should become selfish. We're not talking about extremes.

We're talking about something much simpler: the permission to remain a whole human being, to remember that you are not only a parent, you are also a woman, an individual, a creative being, with a nervous system that needs restoration. And a heart that needs expression. A mind that needs space.

One of the most powerful things we can model for our children is that our own wellbeing matters. Not someday, or after everyone else's needs are met.

Now. Sometimes that looks like therapy, sometimes it looks like movement, or like setting boundaries. And sometimes it looks surprisingly simple. An art class. A journaling moment. A walk. A book. A hobby you haven't touched in years. Something you would not normally allow yourself to do, just for the taste of doing it with no purpose other than caring for yourself.

It can look as an hour spent creating without a goal, or a moment of stillness.

A space where no one needs anything from you.

Creative practices have a unique way of helping us reconnect with parts of ourselves that often get lost in the demands of daily life. That was the beginning of my own creative journey back in 2009. Art gave me a place to breathe, to process. A place to meet myself again, and in many ways, art saved me. And it still does.

Creative practices invite the brain to slow down, create room for reflection, integrates body, mind, emotions. These practices allow emotions to move instead of remaining trapped inside us, reminding us that not everything needs to be productive to be valuable.

The goal isn't to escape motherhood - but to remain connected to yourself while living it. When mothers care for themselves, something beautiful happens: they don't take away from their families, they bring more of themselves back to them, in presence, in calm, in love. And that may be one of the greatest gifts a child can receive.

A Gentle Invitation

This summer, our Neuro-Art Masterclass and Art Journaling Series were designed to offer women a gentle space to pause, create, reflect, and reconnect with themselves.

No artistic experience is required. I'll guide you and hold your hand.

Just bring an open heart and your willingness to make room for your own wellbeing.

I would love to have you join us.

Click here to learn more.