THOUGHTS MOMS PARENTING TEENS AND ADULT KIDS ARE ASHAMED THEY THINK—“I FEEL SO ALONE IN THIS” | EP. 256
Welcome to the Almost Empty Nest Podcast, where we moms of teens and college kids reframe what letting go really means to feel more connected, confident, and at peace. I'm your host, Master Coach Jennifer Collins.
Have you ever had a thought as a mom and then immediately felt terrible for thinking it? Believe me, you're not alone, and you're truly not a bad mom for thinking it. In this series on the thoughts us moms are ashamed we think, I'm exploring these thoughts and where they're coming from. Because when you shift from judgment to understanding, that's when everything changes. Let's dive in.
Hello, my friend.
I feel so alone in this. Do you ever have that thought? And I'm not necessarily talking about being physically alone. You might have a partner.
You might have friends and family around you. What I'm actually describing is something quieter and honestly lonelier than that. It's the feeling that whatever you're carrying right now, whatever's keeping you up at night, that no one else really sees it.
No one else is experiencing it in quite the same way you are. You look around and other moms don't seem to be struggling like you are. And even when you do try to talk about it with someone, you walk away from the conversation feeling like the other person didn't quite get it.
And that is its own kind of pain. I've been thinking a lot about why this particular season of motherhood can feel so isolating. And I think it comes down to this.
When our kids were little, we had access to a kind of shared experience that made everything feel a little more manageable, a little less lonely. We all experienced sleepless nights and the toddler tantrums. We all were in the midst of chaos just trying to get our baby to sleep through the night.
And although these things look different in every household, they felt a bit universal. You could sit around a table with other moms and say, Oh my gosh, me too. And you'd mean it.
I remember when my oldest was just a few months old. I'd found a group of women whose babies were all around the same age. And we'd meet for regular playdates, sitting around with coffee, laughing about how little control we felt like we had.
We'd talk about what was hard. We'd complain about being exhausted and overwhelmed. And it felt safe.
Even when we did compare ourselves to the others. And I definitely felt it watching other babies hit milestones and wondering if I was doing something wrong with my son. Even that felt manageable somehow.
Because underneath all of it was this unspoken understanding that we were all figuring this out as we went along. But something really significant changes as our kids get older. It doesn't happen all at once.
It's gradual. But at some point, the things you're going through start to feel much harder to talk about. And I think it's in large part because of what those things now seem to mean.
When your baby wasn't sleeping or your toddler was having tantrums, that wasn't a reflection on your child's character. And it also wasn't a reflection on you. It was just a phase, something you were going through.
But when your teen pulls away or makes choices that scare you or says something that cuts right to the core, that feels different. It starts to feel like maybe it means something about your child, about your parenting, about whether or not you got something wrong along the way. So instead of feeling like you can talk about it, you keep it to yourself.
It's really hard to sit across from another mom and say, my kid is really struggling right now and I don't know what to do. It's hard to say, my kid is making choices that terrify me and nothing I try seems to be working. It's hard to talk about the moments when your child says something really hurtful or they pull away or they seem to reject everything you're trying to do.
It's hard to talk about being called into school because your kid got into trouble. It's hard to talk about behaviors that feel out of your control. It's hard to talk about your kid's sex life or the fact that you found out they're doing drugs.
It's hard to talk about the ways your relationship with your big kid feels strained or confusing or just not what you imagined it would be. It almost seems like saying these things out loud can feel like you're exposing something, maybe invading your child's privacy or exposing something about yourself or your family. So instead, we edit what we share.
We share the surface level version of our lives and keep the deeper and messier parts to ourselves. And my friend, when every one of us is doing that, when everyone is sharing just enough but not the full truth, it creates this illusion that other people aren't struggling in the same way, that their kids are fine, that they've figured something out that you haven't. And that's when we start to turn on ourselves, thinking, why does this feel so hard for me? Why does it seem like I'm the only one going through this? But the truth is, you are not the only one.
I know it feels that way because no one is really talking about it. And here's the thing. It's not that we don't have someone to turn to.
You might be listening and thinking, well, I do have that one friend I can call or I have a sister. You probably do have someone in your life you can open up to. But even in those relationships, even when you have someone who loves you and genuinely wants to help, it doesn't always touch the loneliness.
Because that person might not really be in it with you. Their kids might be older or younger or just very different from yours. So you can be talking to your friend or your sister.
You can be explaining what's going on. And you can even feel grateful that someone is listening. But you still have this feeling underneath that says, yeah, but you don't really get it.
It's not like this for you. And sometimes, without any bad intention on the other person's part, that disconnect becomes even more apparent in how they respond. They want to help.
So they offer advice. They say things like, oh, that's normal. Or it'll pass.
Or have you tried this? And it comes from a good place. But it can land in a way that makes you feel even more alone. Because what you're really craving in those moments isn't a solution.
You don't need someone to fix it for you. What you really want is someone to sit in it with you. Someone who understands the weight of it.
Someone who can say, yes, I know exactly what that feels like. And when you don't get that, even when you're with someone who you know loves you, that loneliness doesn't go away. It just gets deeper, more internal, more like something you feel like you have to carry on your own.
I feel so alone in this. In this age of technology, many of us also turn to social media. And I have really mixed feelings about this.
Because on the one hand, it can feel like a lifeline. You're scrolling and you come across something that just hits you in exactly the right way. Someone shares a thought or a moment with their kid.
And you read it and you think, oh, finally, someone gets it. You feel seen, even just for a moment. Like maybe you're not the only one dealing with this.
And there's something genuinely comforting about that. But then that comfort doesn't always last that long. Because you look at the comments, and instead of people saying, yes, me too, it turns into an argument about whether or not that comment was right.
People start offering their own advice and sharing what worked for them, what you should do, or how they handled it better. And sometimes it goes even further. We can experience judgment online and criticism.
There's this underlying tone of, well, if you were doing it right, this wouldn't be happening. Even parenting experts online will give you suggestions about how you should be handling your teen better. And even I will listen to it thinking, wow, this advice is really making me feel like a bad mom.
It's amazing how quickly that moment of connection can shift from feeling seen online to feeling inadequate and judged. Sometimes something will resonate, and in another moment you find yourself comparing and questioning, wondering, wait, am I missing something? Have I not tried hard enough? I see this even on my own posts online. I share things with the intention of helping moms feel less alone, to normalize this messy, complicated reality of the stage of parenting.
And still in the comments, people want to fix it, to offer solutions and tell you what you should be doing differently. And I don't think it necessarily comes from a bad place. I think it comes from our own discomfort with other people's pain.
We just want to make it better. But the impact of that is that instead of feeling understood, you can end up feeling even more isolated. Because it reinforces this idea that if you're still struggling, if things haven't improved, then you must still be doing something wrong.
So social media can give you this glimpse of connection and feeling seen, but it also doesn't always give you the depth of understanding that actually takes the loneliness away. And sometimes it even amplifies it. There's another experience that a number of my clients have shared with me that can be really hard to talk about.
And that's when you feel alone in your own home. Because we all come into parenting with our own lens, our own beliefs, and our own emotional history. And what I hear from clients all the time is how different those lenses can be between two partners.
You can be looking at the exact same situation, the exact same child in front of you, and have two completely different experiences of it. You might feel something deeply with your kid. You might notice something that feels concerning or hurtful or important to address, and your partner just doesn't see it the same way.
They might be more laid back, or they might not take things as personally. They might genuinely believe that whatever's going on isn't a big deal, that it'll pass, that you're overthinking it. And this doesn't even have to be dramatic to be very uncomfortable and even painful.
Maybe it's as simple as you feeling like your child is being disrespectful, maybe hurtful in the way that they're speaking to you, and you're trying to figure out how to handle it, trying to process how it feels. But you also notice that you might be reacting in ways that you don't really love because you feel triggered and frustrated, and you realize you're taking it personally even when you're trying really hard not to. And meanwhile, your partner's saying to you, it's not a big deal.
They don't mean it. You're taking this too personally. Just let it go.
And now, you're not just dealing with your child. You're dealing with the feeling that your experience of it is somehow wrong, that the way you're feeling is just too much, too emotional or too sensitive, too reactive. And that is incredibly frustrating because something in you is saying, this matters.
This doesn't feel okay. And the person you were hoping would be your partner in this is essentially telling you, it doesn't matter as much as you think it does. Recently, a client said to me, even in my own home, where I feel like I should be seen by my partner, I don't feel seen.
I feel completely alone in this. And that is such a painful place to be because when you're already trying to figure out how to support your child, to navigate something hard with them, and to show up in the way that you want to, and then on top of all of that, you feel like you're carrying the emotional weight of it all by yourself, it just makes everything feel so much harder. And let's face it, not all of us have a co-parent in our own home.
Some of us are navigating co-parenting situations where you and your ex see things completely differently. And this is a whole different type of being alone. I've had clients who have said to me, I've had to raise my child completely on my own with no help from my ex.
Some of us are dealing with partners who are emotionally unavailable or inconsistent, or struggling with their own things in ways that leave you holding more than your share. In even worse scenarios, our exes are abusive and make things so much harder than they need to be. Now you're not just alone with your feelings, you're alone in the responsibility of all of it.
Like you're the one trying to hold everything together and make the best decisions you can, protect the relationship you have with your child, maybe even navigate something incredibly hard without the support you thought you'd have. So many women expressed to me this thought that they went into their marriage or their partnership thinking that they would have someone to go through life with and to raise their child with, and things turned out so much differently. There's a loss there that you carry with you every day.
So we can all experience this feeling of loneliness and isolation in our parenting in different ways. But here's what I want you to understand. When you're living inside the belief that you're alone in this, when that becomes the lens that you're looking through, it's interesting to notice how our minds can start to turn on us.
We start to question ourselves. Maybe we're overreacting. We start to wonder if there's something wrong in the way that we're feeling.
We start to tell ourselves stories about what we should be doing differently or what it means that this is still hard for us. We look around and everyone else seems to be managing just fine, but we're not. And from that place, it becomes very hard to find self-trust because you find yourself endlessly second-guessing.
You might even start sharing less, keeping more inside because it feels safer than risking not being understood by other people. You might withdraw from conversations that used to feel helpful because they've started leaving you feeling worse. And one of the most painful parts of all of this is this loneliness can make you doubt your own instincts.
Because when no one else seems to be worried about what you're worried about, when your partner brushes you off or when your friends don't seem to get it or when social media just makes you feel even more lost or behind, your brain starts to wonder, well, maybe they're right. Maybe I'm the problem. And my friend, that is one of the loneliest places you can be, doubting every instinct inside of you that's trying to guide you.
So if you're sitting here listening and you recognize yourself in any part of this, the loneliness, the self-doubt, the feeling of carrying something that no one else quite understands, I want to offer you this. Not a list of things to do and certainly not more advice. Just this.
What if the problem isn't that you're overreacting or that you're too emotional or too sensitive or that you're doing this wrong? My friend, your feelings in all of this, whatever you're experiencing, are completely valid. The loneliness you feel is real. The pain of feeling like no one quite gets it, that's real too.
But the question I want to gently offer is what is this belief that you're alone in this actually doing for you? Because we don't always stop to ask this. We feel something and because that feeling is real, we assume that the story underneath it must be true too. And so we hold on to it.
We gather evidence for it. And we let it shape how we move through every single interaction with our child, with our partner, and with other people in our lives. And I'm not saying that the feeling is wrong, but the lens or the perspective that you have that is creating your emotional experience might be costing you more than you realize.
When you believe you're the only one going through this, you stop looking for connection because why would you find it? When you believe no one else gets it, you stop letting people in because what's the point? When you believe you have to figure this out on your own, you feel resentful and that color is the way that you approach every solution. And when you compare yourself, when you look around and you see other people not struggling in the way that you are, you can turn on yourself and only doubt yourself even more. The thought, I'm alone in this, doesn't just describe your experience, it shapes it.
It makes the hard moments feel more permanent and the good ones harder to trust. And here's the thing, you get to feel however you feel, always. But you also get to ask, is what I'm thinking actually helping me show up in my life in the way that I want to? Is it bringing me closer to my child? Is it helping me feel more like myself? Or is it creating the relationship and the experience of motherhood that I actually want? Because if the answer is no, that's worth paying attention to.
Not to judge yourself for it, but so you can start to see your own mind more clearly. So you can notice the stories that are running in your mind and understand what they're costing you so that you can begin to choose something different. And my friend, that's the real work.
It's not finding the right person to finally make you feel understood, it's learning how to understand yourself, to understand what you're thinking and why you're thinking it, and whether it's actually serving you or just keeping you stuck. And when you start doing that work, the loneliness begins to shift. Not because someone else finally got it, but because you got it.
You came back to yourself. And from that place, everything starts to feel different. My friend, this is exactly why I created the Mom 2.0 Collective.
Because what I see over and over again is that moms at this stage of motherhood don't actually need more advice. You don't need someone telling you what to do with your big kid. What you need is a place where you can bring the very real experience of motherhood, those messy thoughts and conflicting feelings, the moments that you're not always proud of.
And instead of feeling judged for them or being handed a list of everything you're doing wrong, you're met with understanding. You're met with someone who can help you make sense of what's actually happening in your mind so that you can start to feel more grounded and clear, more like yourself again. Because the truth is in life, we will not be able to eliminate all of the challenges we face.
Your kids are still going to be your kids and the hard moments are still going to come. But when you're no longer questioning yourself and no longer feeling like you are the only one, everything about how you experience this changes. You feel more steady and more intentional, more connected, not just to your big kid, but to yourself.
And most importantly, in seeing yourself, you stop feeling so alone. My friend, I want you to know whatever you are going through, you are not the only one and there is nothing wrong with you. You are a mom who cares so much and you are navigating something that is genuinely complex and messy and hard.
And the fact that you feel it as deeply as you do is not a weakness. That, my friend, is your love. Until next time.
If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love for you to check out my next free masterclass. There's a link in the show notes. You have more power than you think, my friend.
