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I was standing in the Target checkout line last month when the cashier made small talk: "Shopping for the family today?"
"Just me and my son," I replied, loading our cart of groceries and back-to-school supplies.
Her expression shifted—that subtle mixture of pity and confusion I've come to recognize. "Oh. I'm sorry."
Sorry for what? That I'm raising an incredible 4-year-old who tells me bedtime stories about brave dinosaurs? That I built a writing career from nothing while navigating single parenthood? That I wake up every morning in a peaceful home where no one yells, where love isn't conditional, where my voice actually matters?
I wasn't offended. I understood. She was responding to a narrative that runs so deep in our culture that even well-meaning people perpetuate it without thinking: single motherhood equals failure.
But here's what ten months of single parenting has taught me: the only failure would have been staying in a situation where my son could witness his mother being hurt again. The only real failure would have been teaching him that love looks like accepting treatment that breaks you down instead of builds you up.
The Story They Tell You About Your Worth
Society has a very specific script about single motherhood, and none of it is flattering. You're told you've "broken" your family. That your child is missing something essential. That you're doing life wrong, making things harder than they need to be.
This narrative runs deeper than surface judgment. Single mothers are portrayed as overwhelmed, struggling, barely hanging on. We're objects of pity, never subjects of our own powerful stories. We're reduced to statistics about hardship instead of recognized for the incredible resilience it takes to rebuild an entire life while caring for someone else.
Many of us internalize this story. We walk around carrying shame, apologizing for our existence, feeling like we need to prove we're "good enough" despite being single moms.
But what if the story is completely wrong?
What if single motherhood isn't a failure—it's often the smartest, bravest choice a woman can make?
The Truth About My "Failure"
Let me tell you what my "failure" actually looks like:
My son wakes up in a home where love is consistent and predictable. Where morning routines happen without yelling or tension. Where bedtime stories aren't interrupted by conflict.
He has a mother who models choosing your own happiness over what other people think you should want. He sees a woman who left a situation that wasn't serving either of us and built something better from scratch.
He's learning that families come in all shapes, that love doesn't require a traditional structure, and that sometimes the hardest choices lead to the most beautiful outcomes.
My "broken" family is actually the healthiest dynamic either of us has ever experienced.
My "selfish" choice to leave—even after giving him a second chance—gave my son a mother who's present, patient, and at peace instead of walking on eggshells, hypervigilant, and afraid.
My "failure" to make a relationship work freed us both from a cycle that was becoming dangerous—where love was conditional on my silence and compliance, where my safety mattered less than keeping the peace. That "failure" created space for me to discover what love actually looks like: someone who builds you up instead of tearing you down, who celebrates your voice instead of silencing it.
If this is failure, then I'm failing spectacularly.
What Single Motherhood Actually Taught Me
When my life changed overnight nine months ago, I thought I was entering the hardest period of my existence. In some ways, I was right—but not for the reasons I expected.
I discovered I'm capable of more than I ever imagined.
When you're responsible for everything—and I mean everything—you find strengths you didn't know existed. I can read my son bedtime stories while mentally crafting the next paragraph of an essay. I can comfort him through nightmares and then slip into meditation without losing my sense of peace. I can navigate his toddler emotions while tending to my own healing, creating space for both his needs and my own growth.
These aren't survival skills—they're superpowers.
I learned what it feels like to make decisions from a place of inner knowing instead of fear.
For years, I made choices based on what I thought I was supposed to want, what would avoid conflict, what would keep everyone else comfortable. Those quiet moments in morning meditation helped me reconnect with my own intuition—that inner voice that had been warning me long before I was ready to listen. Single motherhood forced me to start making decisions based on what that voice was telling me, on what actually served my son and me.
The relief of that shift was immediate and profound. When you stop trying to manage other people's reactions to your choices, you free up so much mental and emotional space to actually focus on what serves your family.
I discovered that my voice is powerful when I stop apologizing for using it.
In my previous relationship, my voice had become dangerous. Speaking up caused escalation. Having opinions created volatility. Advocating for my needs was labeled as disrespect that justified retaliation.
As a single mother, my voice became sacred again. I had to advocate for my son at daycare, in healthcare settings, in every situation where his needs mattered. I had to learn to speak up for myself in my career, with my family, in dating situations—and trust that using my voice wouldn't result in punishment.
Now I use my voice to help other women through my writing. The same voice that was once seen as "too much" is now my livelihood and my purpose.
The Freedom Nobody Talks About
Here's what no one tells you about single motherhood: it can be incredibly freeing.
I'm not minimizing the challenges—the exhaustion, the financial pressure, the loneliness that sometimes hits at unexpected moments. Those are real, and they matter.
But there's another side to this story that rarely gets told:
The freedom to create a life that actually reflects your values.
When you're not constantly negotiating with someone who has fundamentally different priorities, you can build a home environment that feels authentic to who you are.
The freedom to pursue your dreams without having to justify them.
My writing career exists because when I felt called to tell my story—our story—I could follow that calling without having to convince anyone else it was worth the risk. Yes, pursuing writing meant accepting financial uncertainty when I desperately needed stability. But sometimes your soul speaks louder than your practical concerns, and those early morning meditations helped me trust that inner knowing. Single motherhood gave me the freedom to answer that call without someone else's fear or skepticism drowning out my own inner voice.
The freedom to model independence and strength for your children.
My son is learning that women are capable of handling whatever life throws at them. He's seeing what it looks like to choose happiness over security, authenticity over approval, growth over staying comfortable.
The freedom to choose what love looks like in your life.
This might be the biggest gift of all. When you're not settling for a relationship that doesn't serve you, you become available for love that does. I found partnership that enhances our life instead of complicating it—someone who shows up for both of us without drama, conditions, or resentment.
But even if I hadn't found romantic love, I discovered something more important: I learned to love myself enough to choose situations that honor my worth.
The Mindset Shift That Changes Everything
The transformation from shame to pride, from failure to freedom, starts with a simple but profound shift in perspective. It's the same shift that happens when you sit quietly with yourself—whether in meditation, prayer, or just those precious moments of stillness—and remember who you really are beneath all the stories others have told you about your worth.
You didn't fail at creating a family. You succeeded at protecting one.
Every single mother made a choice—whether it was leaving a relationship that had become unsafe, choosing to parent alone from the beginning, or finding herself single through circumstances beyond her control. In every case, you chose your child's wellbeing over the false security of maintaining a situation that was harming both of you.
That's not failure. That's fierce love in action.
You're not struggling because you're not enough. You're building something new, and that takes time.
Every major life change involves adjustment. When you're rebuilding your entire life while caring for a child, of course it's intense. But intensity isn't the same as failure. Growing pains aren't evidence that you made the wrong choice.
You're not struggling because single parenthood is inherently broken. You're working hard because creating something beautiful from difficult circumstances requires effort and time.
The Questions That Set You Free
When the shame spiral starts—because it will, we're all human—ask yourself these questions:
What would I do if I truly believed I was enough exactly as I am?
Maybe you'd pursue that dream job. Maybe you'd set stronger boundaries with family members who don't respect your choices. Maybe you'd date with confidence instead of desperation. Maybe you'd simply walk through the world with your head higher.
What story do I want my child to tell about their childhood?
Do you want them to remember a mother who was always apologizing for their family structure? Or do you want them to remember a mother who was proud of what they built together, who modeled confidence and self-respect?
What would change if I stopped waiting for someone else to validate my choices?
You don't need anyone's permission to be proud of your life. You don't need anyone's approval to make decisions that serve your family. You don't need anyone's understanding to know your worth.
Building Your New Normal
Creating a life you're proud of as a single mother isn't about proving anything to anyone else—it's about building something that feels authentic to who you are. Start with your home environment and make it a space that brings you peace. Invest in your own growth through learning and pursuing what lights you up. Surround yourself with people who see your worth and celebrate your choices rather than treat your single motherhood as a problem to solve. Most importantly, own your story—you're not a victim of circumstances, you're a woman who made brave choices and built something beautiful.
The Life You're Actually Building
Ten months ago, if someone had told me that single motherhood would become one of the most empowering experiences of my life, I wouldn't have believed them.
But here's what I've discovered: the only failure would have been staying in a situation that required me to be smaller, quieter, less myself.
The only failure would have been modeling for my son that love means accepting treatment that diminishes you.
The only failure would have been choosing other people's comfort over our own wellbeing.
Instead, I chose difficult freedom over comfortable dysfunction. I chose authenticity over approval. I chose building something real over maintaining something that looked good from the outside but felt hollow inside.
My son is growing up watching his mother make brave choices. He's learning that families are defined by love, not structure. He's seeing what it looks like to choose your own happiness instead of waiting for someone else to provide it.
This isn't the life I planned, but it's becoming the life I'm most proud of.
If that's failure, then failure is the most liberating thing that's ever happened to me.
A Message for the Mama Reading This
Your story is not a tragedy. It's an adventure.
Your family is not broken. It's beautifully, perfectly yours.
Your choice to be a single mother—whether it was planned or thrust upon you—is not evidence of failure. It's proof of courage.
You're not just surviving this journey. You're writing a manuscript of strength, resilience, and love that will inspire your children for the rest of their lives.
Be proud of what you're building. Be proud of who you're becoming. Be proud of the choices you've made to protect and nurture the most important love in your life.
You've got this, mama. And I'm cheering you on every proud, powerful step of the way.
Have you experienced the shift from shame to pride in your single motherhood journey? I'd love to hear your story in the comments below, or join our community of strong single moms who are rewriting the narrative together.
