Motherhood requires a lot.
We have the disrupted nights, the navigating of emotions, the feeding, the constant pivoting, the non-stop learning. There is a constant influx of needs, not only in the obvious practical, mental and emotional sense, but in the way motherhood asks us to be reshaped, deconstructed in some ways, and rebuilt in others.
Over time, we become intricately woven into the daily fabric of our family’s existence. We learn to anticipate needs before they’re spoken, we can feel moods before a cross word is said. We carry the much unspoken weight of the load, physically, emotionally and mentally.
Yet for many of us, an unsettling realisation arrives at some point:
"I don’t know who I am when I’m not being needed. I don’t know who I am when I’m not doing something’
Maybe it hits when the children are at school, and the house is eerily quiet. Maybe it hits when you have an hour to yourself, and you don’t know what to do with it. You find that what you need is rest, yet it’s hard to claim when slowing down brings guilt and self-questioning.
Maybe it hits when your children don’t need you in the way they once did and you find that part of you aches with relief, whilst another part of you grieves.
If this resonates, I want you to know: You are not alone, and you are not broken.
This isn’t just about busyness, it’s about identity. Here are 5 thoughts about this feeling to help bring some clarity and insight:
1. Why stillness feels unsettling
Many of us long for a moment to breathe, a break from the relentless pull of responsibility. And yet, when we finally get that quiet moment, it can feel… uncomfortable.
Maybe you find yourself mindlessly scrolling your phone, ‘wasting time’ leaving you filled with regret for not using those quiet moments more wisely. Maybe instead of meeting your needs, you fill the space with tasks.
Maybe you feel guilty for resting, like you should be using the time for something ‘productive’, as if rest itself isn’t productive.
Maybe you feel a strange sense of emptiness, like something is missing.
This discomfort isn’t because you can’t relax. It’s because your body has adapted to busyness, and to slow down feels somehow alien. What is unfamiliar, feels on some level unsafe. Your nervous system has adapted to your consistent ‘switched-on’ state of hyper-vigilance. Your brain has spent a lot of time anticipating challenges, and prioritising connection with others, so it may be that your own self-connection has taken a back seat.
Try This: Instead of rushing straight to fill the quiet, take a moment to notice the discomfort you feel within it. What does it feel like in your body? What thoughts arise? Choose to observe these feelings without judgement, recognising that it feels like an unfamiliar state, and maybe one that would be good to get re-equated with. Awareness alone is the first step toward change.
2. When being needed becomes an identity
For many mums, being the one who holds it all together becomes more than a role, it becomes an identity. The tricky thing is that when our identity becomes so intertwined with being needed, what happens when that need lessens? What happens when a child stops needing the same level of help or interaction, or when they naturally become more independent?
If being needed is the foundation of our worth, then these shifts can feel deeply unsettling on our confidence and self-esteem, even when they are part of healthy child development.
You might be interested to know that when we complete tasks, especially those that involve caregiving our brains release feel-good chemicals (namely dopamine) to encourage us to keep at it! Over time, our brain can learn that meeting others’ needs = feeling good and valuable. This means that when we’re not actively ‘doing’ for others, we can be wired to feel this unexpected void.
Try this: Ask yourself this question: ‘who am I when I’m not needed?’. Goodness, this question can feel confronting at first, but sit with it. Let it become an invitation to explore the version of you that exists and has value regardless of what you do or don’t do.
3. The fear of being selfish
As a therapist, I often hear mothers equate doing things for themselves, with feelings of selfishness.
Think back to what you believed a ‘good’ mother looked like? So many of us were raised with the unspoken message that a ‘good’ mother is selfless, all giving, all sacrificing. This idealising has driven a powerful internal narrative that to be something beyond our role as a caregiver is indulgent. That taking time for ourselves means somehow taking something away from our children, that is theirs.
But the uncomfortable truth is, our children don’t just learn from what we give them. They learn from what we model. They don’t listen to what we teach them, they absorb and observe what we do.
They learn self-care when they see us care for ourselves.
They learn boundaries when they see us honour our needs.
They learn self-worth when they see us value ourselves beyond what we do for others.
When our children see a mother who meets her needs without guilt, they internalise the belief that it is okay to do the same. So, the next time guilt creeps in, ask yourself: What would I want my child to believe about their own worth? Would I want them to feel guilty for prioritising themselves? And then extend that same grace to yourself.
4. Learning to want again
There is a point in many of my therapy sessions with clients when I ask them to name three needs. Often this is where the tears come forth as they realise that their needs have taken such a back seat, that they struggle to name them. We become so attuned to what our children, partners, and families need, that ours can be hard to access and articulate, not because we don’t have them, but because they don’t get airtime.
Ask yourself these three questions…
What would bring you joy, beyond what benefits your family?
What do you long for, outside of the daily routine?
What part of you feels neglected?