Mama, You Don’t Have to Apologize for Having a Life

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel like I have to apologize for having a life.

It’s an uncomfortable thing to admit—maybe even a little unsettling—because it points to something deeper about the way motherhood is often framed. Many of us were taught, subtly or outright, that choosing ourselves is a kind of betrayal. That devotion to our own lives means we are less responsible, less loving, less committed as mothers.

That belief is heavy.

And while it exists as a big idea, it’s in the quiet, everyday moments where it does the most harm—slowly shrinking the shape of our lives.

Here are a few ways I see it show up in my own day-to-day.

1. Waking Up Feeling Indebted

Some mornings, I wake up already feeling like I owe my children and my family my entire day. Before my feet touch the floor, there’s a sense of being behind—of needing to catch up. From there, I move through the day trying to earn small moments back for myself. Not to feel abundant or nourished—just to feel even. Just to feel allowed.

2. Small Choices That Quietly Cancel My Life

The second way this shows up is in the tiny decisions that follow that mindset. I feel guilty for not cooking enough, cleaning enough, doing enough. And then I tell myself my time is the most flexible, my plans the easiest to move. So I reschedule myself—again and again—until my own life becomes optional.

3. Filling the Schedule Until I Disappear

The third way is more subtle. Instead of canceling plans for myself, I fill my schedule completely with responsibilities for my children and my family. By the end of the day, there’s nothing left. This might sound strange, but part of me feels validated by it. Look how full the schedule is. Look how much I showed up.

But underneath that validation is a quieter message I’m sending myself: there is no room for me.

The Shift: Defining Non-Negotiables

Realizing this, I knew something had to change. I had to move myself closer to the center of my own priorities. The answer wasn’t doing more. It was learning to tell myself—consistently and intentionally—that I matter. For me, that began with defining my daily non-negotiables. These are the few things I need in order to feel balanced, regulated, and human. They are the practices that calm my nervous system and remind me that I deserve steadiness and peace.

They might look like:

• a quiet moment in the morning for journaling or prayer

• drinking enough water to feel physically supported

• a daily pause for stillness, meditation, or simply doing nothing

These are not luxuries. They are anchors. When life feels chaotic on the outside for long enough, we start believing we are the chaos. But we’re not. We’re just under-supported.

Your Invitation

Define your non-negotiables today. Put them on your calendar. Start tomorrow. Practice consistency—not perfection. Consistency doesn’t mean rigid or flawless. It simply means returning to yourself regularly. The same time every day or different times each week—both count.

Ask yourself:

• How many times will I show up for myself this week?

• Next week?

• Next month?

Each time you do, you’re making a deposit back into yourself.

I’m learning that choosing myself doesn’t take anything away from my children. It gives them a mother who feels grounded, present, and alive. I don’t want my life to shrink in the name of motherhood. I want it to expand with it. And I don’t want to apologize for that anymore.