Mom Guilt vs. the Creative Life: 5 Tips for Finding Balance
No matter how someone becomes a parent, the shift into motherhood can derail a womxn’s creative practice. And trying to get back to it can feel impossible. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to become a parent because I was so terrified it would make me give up all the hard work I’d already put into becoming a writer, and I couldn’t live with that resentment. So when I became a mom ten years ago, and then again five years ago, I promised myself I would fight for my writing.
Of course, once I was knee-deep in caretaking, physical changes, exhaustion, working full time, relationships, friendships, and the daily grind of packing snacks for every possible scenario (and of course forgetting one), doing anything for myself felt indulgent at best, exhausting at worst. But these five tips have helped me push past the mom guilt and eke out a writing routine.
1. Stay stubborn
Society has already perfected the many ways to make womxn feel we’re never good/present/organic/home/thin/clean/stylish/young enough. So maybe self-preservation is actually an act of rebellion. Committing to my writing is a small way I choose myself in the chaos.
2. Tune out the judgment
Oof, American motherhood comes with a lot of shame and judgment. Though we can’t control every aspect of this, we can take a hard look at what we’re actively consuming (which I also dig into in MOUTH, my debut short story collection). Social media is a great place to start. I tend to hop on as a way to zone out for a bit. But I found myself wasting these sanity breaks by jealousy-scrolling through accounts that starred impeccable cream-colored (!!) living rooms, kids who aren’t farting on each other, dinners that don’t involve hot dogs. And then I’d return to my real life, cranky but certain I could be a better mom if I *just* got some oversized seagrass baskets that my kids definitely wouldn’t scribble on.
One thing that yanked me out of that negativity loop was to create a more positive social media experience for myself, nixing accounts that made me feel jealous, or worse, brought out my own judginess. Instead, I followed more bookstores, writers, readers, small presses—and slowly, started feeling more reconnected to the writing world.
3. Be realistic
Trying to force a daily 5 a.m. writing session and then getting frustrated when I couldn’t do it because I’d been up all night with a teething kiddo only made me feel like it was *one* more thing I was failing at.
So I started small, earmarking 15 minutes a day for my writing. For those 15 minutes, maybe when one of my kids was napping or breastfeeding, I’d edit a paragraph or write a few lines of dialogue. It helped me ease back into a creative headspace during a time I felt really overwhelmed. Going slowly made it more likely I’d stick with it.
4. Put it on your calendar
We schedule trumpet lessons, science club, sports practice, doctor’s appointments. How is your creative practice any less important? The physical act of adding it to my calendar, and then getting a reminder for it, helped me rely less on my erratic steal-it-where-I-can-get-it approach and feel okay prioritizing myself for a moment again.
5. Move with intention
Returning to a regular writing practice felt SO GOOD. I was back! But I also knew I’d better writewritewrite something EPIC or I’d be wasting my special time. The self-imposed pressure became…way too much.
Instead, I tried viewing my writing time more holistically. Maybe I could use my timeblock to submit a story or finally consolidate all my rough drafts. Doing anything that pertains to writing, whether that’s quickly over my lunch break at work or a magical two uninterrupted hours after the kids’ bedtime, is still a win.
It’s self care
Living is hard work. Raising kids is hard work. And so is writing. “Self-care” always seemed like a luxury I didn’t have the money or time for. But maybe it’s just about relearning how to be kind to myself. Because when it comes down to it, do I want to choose myself or the patriarchy?
Coming soon: MOUTH, Kerry Donoghue’s daring debut collection, dives into the depths of human appetites and the hidden hungers that drive us. From a competitive eater to a mermaid-in-training, these unforgettable characters wrestle with consuming desires, be it through drink, love, or the relentless pursuit of perfection. As they confront the voids they can’t seem to fill, MOUTH asks: when our cravings define us, how do we survive the hunger? Don’t miss this provocative exploration of longing, identity, and survival.
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