The Loneliness of Motherhood

The Loneliness of Motherhood

Last night in bed I cried. I cried a lot considering I wasn’t even planning on talking to my husband about it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was embarrassed. I felt embarrassed to admit to him that I was lonely. That I felt like I had no one to talk to. I made my point clear in that I know I can talk to him and that this conversation was no way directed at him, because I feel like we have an honest and open enough relationship that I could just tell him otherwise. But it’s more than that. I feel like I don’t have anyone I can just pick up the phone to and call, if I need to. My dad was that go-to person, almost daily and even just writing this sentence takes the wind out of me.

I think I have missed him so much recently due to Christmas, the first year a person dies is always the hardest. Mila’s first birthday being the second biggest milestone where he’s not around. And I keep having those fucking awful thoughts where she does something for the first time or I take a photo and think “Oh, I must send this to dad/tell dad about this” and then I realise, I can’t. It hurts now, more than I thought it would (plus now I’m actually crying!) and this post isn’t even meant to be about grief, but I do think it plays a part.

It’s hard to admit I’m lonely because I have three kids. So, how on earth does someone with three kids ever feel lonely? Well, first off, they’re kids. They don’t do adult conversation, which on the one hand is refreshing because they’re a constant distraction of said loneliness and they make you forget. And secondly, I’m glad because they make you stop (sometimes) and appreciate the silliness and innocence of childhood, so you’re allowed to be goofy and play stupid games, make silly faces because that’s all part of the job role. Plus, and especially with Mila, she loves it when you’re messing around, her laugh is infectious and there’s just no way you could feel down when she’s on form.

But that being said, being lonely is real and it happens more than we would care to admit, through fear more than anything (I’d imagine). Fear of being judged. Yet, I had the conversation with my nan months ago and even she admitted to feeling lonely as a stay at home mum when she was younger. She even said at times she hated being a mother. Which again, is something I think we can all relate to, if we’re honest. I know I do. I also feel resentful, towards my kids and my husband, not always, but once in a blue moon that feeling creeps in.

The worst part (and my most rantiest) is the people who claim to be there but never are. I know we can all be a bit guilty of this and I know daily life gets in the way. But I’m talking about those people who make plans and then NEVER stick to them. Or the ones who claim to “love your kids” but make fuck all effort. They’re the ones who accentuate the loneliness. Don’t lie to me about why you’re not around, just be straight up honest or don’t make the plans in the first place. It’s easy. I’d like to think that the handful of girlfriends I have feel the same way I do, in a sense of, we might not always see one another, but if we needed something and we called, we’d be there. Which is how it should be and I love those types of friendships. But those other types, like, are we friends, or aren’t we? They’re the ones I struggle with, probably because like a lot of others, I wear my heart on my sleeve, give all that I’ve got and continually assume people will behave in the same way. And, therein lies my problem. One should never assume nor expect. But again, I think we can all be guilty of doing it from time to time.

So, my names Francesca, I am lonely and I’m no longer afraid to admit it. My husband has told me that I need to actually make time for myself and do more things for me (which I struggle to do because, hello mum guilt!) but I think it is something that needs to happen and soon, for all our sakes more than anything. So, any suggestions would be more than welcome, sharing is caring after all.