Blogs
March 2026 - Mother's Day: When It's More Complicated Than a Card
February 2026 - When love meets exhaustion
January 2026 - January isn't a fresh start for everybody
Read the January Blog
December 2025 - Letting go of Perfectionism
Read the December Blog
November 2025 - Matrescence, the word that changes everything
Read the November Blog
Mother's Day: When It's More Complicated Than a Card
Mother's Day is everywhere in March. The shops fill up with flowers and gift sets. Social media becomes a stream of smiling photos and heartfelt captions. There are brunches and breakfasts in bed, hand-drawn cards with wonky letters, and phone calls that start with *"just ringing to say I love you."*
And for many people, it is a lovely day. A chance to feel seen and appreciated, to mark something that matters.
But for a lot of the mums I work with, Mother's Day can be unexpectedly hard. Not because they don't love their children, or because they're ungrateful, or because something is wrong with them. But because life is complicated. Motherhood is complicated. And a single day that asks you to celebrate it simply, joyfully, without uncertainty, can feel like a lot.
If this year Mother's Day is stirring something difficult in you, this is for you.
When motherhood hasn't looked how you imagined
There's a version of motherhood that most of us imagined before we became mothers. Hazy and warm, full of cuddles and contentment. We knew it would be hard work, of course. But we didn't quite expect *this*.
The relentless exhaustion. The loss of yourself. The love that is enormous and terrifying all at once. The days when you snap and then hate yourself for it. The strange grief of missing your old life while also not wanting to go back. The suspicion, somewhere quiet, that you're not doing it right.
Mother's Day can hold a mirror up to all of that. When the world is celebrating mothers, it's easy to feel like you're supposed to feel grateful and glowing, and to feel quietly ashamed when you mostly feel tired and overwhelmed.
If that's where you are this year, you are not alone. And there is nothing wrong with you.
For the mums doing it on their own
Single motherhood is one of the most demanding things a person can do, and it is definitely under-acknowledged. You are holding everything, the sleepless nights, feeding and maybe the school runs, the emotional support and the financial worry, the discipline and the fun, the fear and the love, often without anyone to hand it to, even for a moment.
Mother's Day can be a painful reminder of what's absent. The partnership you hoped for, or once had. The co-parent who isn't showing up in the ways you needed. The simple wish that someone would just notice how hard you are working and say *well done.*
To the mums doing it alone: what you are doing is amazing! The fact that it's exhausting and sometimes lonely doesn't mean you're doing it wrong. It means you're doing the work of two people, and you deserve far more recognition than one day a year, let alone a day that can sometimes feel like it was designed for a different kind of family.
For the mums who have lost their own mum
Grief doesn't follow the calendar, but the calendar has a way of finding grief anyway.
If you have lost your mother, whether recently or many years ago. Mother's Day can arrive like a bruise you forgot you had. It might be the first year without her. Or it might be the tenth, and you're surprised by how much it still catches you. Either way, there can be something particularly tender about being a mother yourself while missing yours, wanting to call her, raising children she'll never know, or who are growing up without her in the picture.
You might feel the shape of her absence more sharply on days like this. That is not self-pity. That is love with nowhere to go. And it deserves to be honoured.
For the mums whose relationship with their own mother is painful or complicated
Not everyone's experience of being mothered was a safe or loving one. For some people, Mother's Day stirs something much older and much more painful than the present, memories of a childhood that felt frightening, or lonely, or not quite good enough. A mother who was there but not really there. A relationship that has always been difficult, or distant, or damaging.
Becoming a mother yourself can bring all of this rushing back to the surface. The old wounds can feel surprisingly fresh, especially in the early years of parenthood when you're sleep-deprived, vulnerable, and doing everything you can to give your child something different from what you had.
If Mother's Day is complicated because of your own history, that makes complete sense. You are allowed to have mixed feelings. You are allowed to grieve something you never had. And you are allowed to feel proud of the fact that you are doing something hard, breaking a pattern, choosing differently, even on the days when it doesn't feel like enough.
For the mums who are in the thick of it and just surviving
Some of you are reading this in a rare quiet moment, baby finally asleep, toddler in front of the telly, just five minutes to yourself before the next thing. You are not in a place to feel celebratory. You are in survival mode.
The newborn haze. The postnatal anxiety that makes every moment feel edged with worry. The worrying thoughts you haven't told anyone about. The birth experience you're still processing weeks or months later. The identity shift that no one warned you was coming.
Mother's Day, when you're in this place, can feel a bit like being handed a bouquet while you're standing in the middle of a storm. Lovely in theory. A bit disconnected from reality.
If that's where you are, it's okay. You don't have to feel celebratory. You don't have to be thankful. You are in one of the most intense periods of your life, and getting through it, loving your child fiercely even on the days when everything feels impossible, is enough. More than enough.
The "good enough" mother
The psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott introduced the idea of the "good enough" mother back in the 1950s, and it remains one of the most quietly radical concepts in parenting. His argument was simple but profound: children don't need a perfect mother. They need a good enough one.
A mother who tries. Who repairs when she gets it wrong. Who is present enough, loving enough, consistent enough, not flawless, not endlessly patient, not selfless to the point of disappearing, but real and there.
The pressure on mothers today is extraordinary. Social media sets an impossible standard. The parenting advice industry tells you there is always something more you should be doing. The cultural script is relentless: be gentle but firm, structured but spontaneous, present but not smothering, confident but humble.
No one can be all of that. And trying to be all of that, measuring yourself constantly against an ideal that doesn't exist, is exhausting and unkind.
What if, this Mother's Day, instead of asking whether you're doing it perfectly, you asked whether you're doing it well enough? Whether your child knows they are loved? Whether, on the balance of things, you are showing up?
For most of the mums reading this, the answer is yes. Even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.
You don't have to hold this alone
If Mother's Day is bringing up feelings that feel heavy or hard to sit with, whether that's anxiety, grief, exhaustion, or something from your past that's closer to the surface than usual, it might be worth talking to someone.
Therapy isn't about having something dramatically wrong. It's about having a space that's entirely yours. Somewhere you don't have to be fine, or capable, or grateful. Somewhere you can say the things you don't say at baby groups or to your partner or in the cheerful WhatsApp thread.
Many of the mums I work with come in not quite knowing how to name what they're feeling. They just know something feels heavier than it should. Over time, things begin to make more sense. The anxiety becomes more manageable. The past feels a little less present. And they start to feel, slowly, more like themselves again.
You deserve support too. Not just on Mother's Day, but all year round.
When Love Meets Exhaustion: Relationships After Having a Baby
February arrives full of hearts, cards, and talk of romance. Valentine’s Day has a way of putting relationships under a spotlight, and when we’ve had a baby, that spotlight can feel uncomfortably bright.
Because the reality of life after a baby often looks very different from the version we imagined.
Instead of cuddles on the settee, we’re negotiating who gets the longest stretch of sleep. Instead of long conversations, we’re exchanging practical updates over a crying baby. Instead of feeling connected and desired, we may feel tired, touched out, lonely, or quietly resentful.
And all of this can exist alongside deep love.
The First Year: A Perfect Storm for Relationships
The first year after having a baby is one of the biggest transitions a relationship can go through. Sleep deprivation alone is enough to strain even the strongest connection. When we add new responsibilities, emotional changes, identity shifts, and a complete loss of spontaneity, it’s no wonder so many of us struggle.
This stage isn’t about being incompatible or failings.
It’s about adjustment.
We’re learning how to be parents while also trying to hold onto who we were as individuals and as a couple. And often, we’re doing that while running on very little sleep and even less emotional capacity.
It’s tough, and it’s far more common than we’re led to believe.
When Priorities Shift (And It Feels Personal)
Before a baby, the relationship may have been the centre of our world. There was time, space, flexibility. After a baby arrives, a tiny human with very loud needs naturally takes priority.
That shift can feel strange.
One of us may feel pushed aside.
The other may feel completely consumed by caregiving.
Both of you may feel unseen, unappreciated, or overwhelmed.
When we’re exhausted, these feelings don’t always come out gently, or clearly. They often appear as irritation, closing down, or arguments over things that aren’t really about the thing at hand.
Changing Roles and the Quiet Build-Up of Resentment
Resentment is something many of us experience after having a baby, even if we don’t talk about it openly.
It often shows up when:
one of us feels we’re doing more
the mental load feels uneven
expectations haven’t been spoken aloud
there’s a belief that we shouldn’t have to ask
Thoughts creep in like:
Why am I the one noticing everything?
Why do I have to explain what needs doing?
Why don’t they just see it?
Resentment doesn’t mean love has disappeared.
More often, it means needs aren’t being met, and they haven’t yet been voiced.
Resentment grows quietly, especially when we’re tired and focused on getting through the day.
Intimacy After a Baby: The Part We’re Rarely Prepared For
Intimacy often changes after a baby, emotionally and physically.
There may be less time, less energy, changes in desire, or changes in how our bodies feel. For some of us, closeness feels comforting. For others, it feels overwhelming, especially when our bodies have spent the entire day being needed, touched, and relied upon.
Loneliness can appear here in a quiet way. You can be together constantly, yet somehow feel far apart.
Many of us carry guilt around this:
We should be closer.
We should be back to normal by now.
Other couples seem fine.
But comparison isn't often the truth.
A lack of intimacy doesn’t mean a relationship is broken.
Often, it simply means we’re depleted.
Grieving the Old Life (Without Regretting the New One)
This is something many of us struggle to say out loud.
We can love our children deeply and still miss our old life.
We can feel grateful and still grieve:
freedom
ease
spontaneity
quiet
being a couple without interruption
Grief doesn’t cancel out love.
It simply acknowledges that something meaningful has changed.
When we don’t name this grief, it can turn into distance or resentment. When we do name it, there’s often a sense of relief, it’s not just me.
Communication When you're Both Running on Empty
We hear it often: communication is key.
But communicating well when we’re exhausted is incredibly hard.
When we’re tired, it’s easier to assume than ask. Easier to withdraw than explain. Easier to keep score than open up.
But our partners can’t read our minds, even when they care deeply.
Sometimes honesty sounds simple:
“I’m not okay today.”
“I need help, but I don’t know how to ask.”
“I miss us.”
“I’m exhausted and snapping ,this isn’t about you.”
These moments of honesty can feel vulnerable, but they often soften things where silence hardens them.
Valentine’s Day Pressure (And Why It Can Feel So Hard)
Valentine’s Day can intensify everything.
If we’re already feeling disconnected or worn down, a day dedicated to romance can highlight what we don’t have the energy for, rather than what we do.
It’s okay if Valentine’s Day looks different now.
It’s okay if it’s a takeaway, an early night, or quietly passing by.
It’s okay if love looks practical rather than passionate.
In the early stages of parenthood, love is often expressed through teamwork, patience, and simply getting through the day together.
That still counts.
When Other Relationships Shift Too
It’s not just partner relationships that change after a baby.
Family dynamics
We may notice parents or in-laws stepping in more than feels comfortable, or not stepping in at all. Advice may come thick and fast, or support may feel lacking.
It’s possible to feel grateful and overwhelmed at the same time.
It’s possible to want help and also want space.
Holding boundaries can feel difficult, but they’re often necessary to protect our wellbeing, and our relationships.
Friendships
Friendships often shift after having a baby too, sometimes quietly, sometimes strongly.
We may no longer be able to drop everything or say yes without thinking. Nights out take planning, energy we don’t always have, and a level of flexibility that just isn’t there right now. Some friends don’t quite understand the exhaustion or how completely our priorities have changed, and that lack of understanding can hurt more than we expect.
Some friendships stretch and adapt.
Some fade gently.
Some surprise us in ways we didn’t see coming.
None of this means we’ve failed at friendship. It reflects how much life has changed, and how different stages ask different things of us.
As things settle, sleep improves, and we begin to find our feet again, many relationships, with partners, friends, and ourselves, soften and reconnect in new ways. And when things feel heavy or confusing, support, whether through honest conversations, therapy, or simply knowing we’re not alone, can help us make sense of it all.
A Gentle Reminder
If relationships feel harder right now, it doesn’t mean love is gone.
Often, it means life has become heavier.
This stage won’t last forever.
And you don’t have to navigate it alone.
January Isn’t a Fresh Start for Everyone, and That’s Okay!
January 2026
There’s something about January that feels… loud.
Loud with expectations. Loud with fresh starts. Loud with “new year, new you”.
Everywhere you look, someone is announcing their new routine, new body, new job, new mindset, new life. Meanwhile, you’re just trying to remember when you last had a hot cup of tea and whether the baby has already had that nappy change or if that was three hours ago. Or yesterday. Who knows.
If you’re a parent, especially a new parent, January can feel like a month designed by people who have forgotten what tired actually feels like.
And if you don’t feel hopeful, motivated, or remotely ready to reinvent yourself… that's OK, you're probably knackered!
The January Myth: Why “Fresh Start” Culture Feels So Heavy
We’re sold on the idea that January is a clean slate. A reset button, A chance to become the “best version” of ourselves. But this message ignores reality.
January arrives when:
You’re emotionally wrung out from December
The days are short and dark
Your bank account is limping
Routines are disrupted
Your nervous system is still recovering from the festive chaos
For parents, it’s even heavier. Especially if you’re navigating early parenthood, sleep deprivation, feeding schedules, and the huge emotional shift that comes with caring for another human being.
You don’t need a transformation. You need gentleness.
The Emotional Hangover No One Talks About
After the build-up of Christmas, the planning, the spending, the socialising, the emotional load, January often lands like a thud.
The decorations come down. The adrenaline disappears. And suddenly, you’re left with your thoughts, your tired body, and a whole lot of “Is this it?”
This emotional comedown is completely normal. But we rarely talk about it.
For parents, the contrast can be particularly stark. December is loud and busy. January is quiet and exposing. The loneliness can creep in. The tiredness catches up. The feelings you pushed aside resurface.
This isn’t a weakness. It’s what happens when your nervous system finally gets a moment to breathe.
When You’ve Had a Baby, January Hits Differently
If you’ve become a parent recently, or even if your children are a little older, January can still bring a deeper emotional wobble.
You might look at your life and think,
“I should feel grateful… but I don’t recognise myself anymore.”
Parenthood doesn’t just change your routines. It changes how you experience the world. And January has a way of shining a giant spotlight on all of that.
While everyone else is chasing goals and glow-ups, you’re quietly asking: Who am I now?
If your main achievement today was keeping everyone fed and reasonably safe, that counts as a win. If your biggest win this week was getting through without crying in the supermarket, that absolutely counts.
If you’re surviving on snacks and caffeine and hope, it still counts.
This isn’t a pause in your life. This is your life.
And it deserves compassion, not criticism.
Gentle Ways to Care for Yourself This January
Instead of asking, “How can I improve myself?” Try asking, “How can I support myself?”
Here are a few gentle ideas that don’t involve colour-coded planners or life overhauls:
Lower your expectations. Then lower them again.
Drink water. Eat something warm. Rest when you can.
Go outside, even for five minutes. The sky helps.
Talk to someone who won’t judge the mess of it.
Let this be a month of maintenance, not transformation.
You don’t need to start again. You don’t need to fix yourself. You don’t need to become someone new. You are already doing something brave: getting through a hard season.
And January doesn’t have to be a fresh start.
Sometimes, it’s simply a place to rest.
Letting Go of the “Perfect Christmas”: Why Your Family Doesn’t Need the Magic… They Just Need You
December 2025
Every December, something strange happens. Perfectly sensible, grounded parents suddenly feel this overwhelming urge to transform into professional event planners, Michelin-star chefs, interior designers, financial advisers, Santa’s PA, and, if Instagram is to be believed, some kind of festive Von Trapp family in matching pyjamas.
And honestly? It’s exhausting.
Christmas seems to bring out a very specific type of perfectionism, the kind that whispers, You need to make this magical… or else you’re failing.
And when you’re already juggling parenting, work, sleep deprivation, mental load, and the odd existential crisis in the toy aisle… adding a full-scale Christmas production on top is enough to make anyone want to hide in the wardrobe with a box of Celebrations!
But here’s the thing most parents forget, kids don’t need Christmas to be perfect. They just need you.
Present. Calm-ish. Warm-ish. Emotionally available-ish.
(There’s a lot of “ish” in parenting. And that’s more than good enough.)
The Myth of the Magical Christmas
Everywhere you look, there’s pressure to create the perfect festive experience.
Matching pyjamas. The perfect tree. Breakfast with Santa. A winter wonderland visit. The “magical” grotto. The Christmas Eve box. The new family ornament. A wreath-making workshop if you’re feeling extra.
Apparently, December has become the Olympics of parenting.
But the truth no one talks about enough?
Kids are rarely at their best during big, overstimulating festive days out.
They’re tired.
They’re cold.
They’ve been queuing in front of a fake snow machine for 40 minutes and are now covered in a mysterious stickiness.
The toddler’s lost a glove. Someone’s hungry. Someone’s crying because they saw Santa and he “looked wrong.” And you’re desperately trying to pretend you’re having a magical time while internally screaming, This cost HOW much?
Honestly, for many families, these big days out are more stress than sparkle.
And that’s okay to admit.
The Year I Decided to Step Off the Festive Hamster Wheel
Last year, I sat myself down and thought… Why am I doing this? Who exactly am I trying to impress? The children? Instagram? The ghost of Christmas judgement?
So, I made a very conscious decision:
**No big trips. No Santa breakfasts. No chaotic winter wonderlands.
Just… a calmer Christmas.**
And do you know what? The kids didn’t go into mourning.
There were no dramatic gasps of betrayal.
No petitions for reinstating “Christmas Magic Events™.”
They were absolutely fine. In fact, they were relieved.
All we’re doing this year is:
A wander around the local Christmas market
A visit to our local church to see the Christmas tree displays
Some cosy time at home watching Christmas films
And that’s it.
Nothing Instagrammable. Nothing that requires a military-level operation.
Just simple, gentle December moments.
And do you know what? The kids love it.
What they want most is you.
Your presence, not perfection.
Your company, not endless activities.
Your connection, not chaos.
Why We Push Ourselves So Hard (The Psychology Bit)
This season brings out old childhood memories, family expectations, cultural pressure, and all those “traditions” we think we must uphold, even if they run us into the ground.
We tell ourselves:
“Good parents make Christmas magical.”
“Everyone else seems to be doing all these activities…”
“I don’t want my child to miss out.”
But here’s the truth:
Children don’t remember perfect. They remember connection.
They remember laughing with you while you made the mince pies.
They remember dancing to cheesy Christmas music.
They remember decorating the tree with handmade nursery/school baubles.
They remember being included, held, loved.
Not the price of the day out.
Not whether your wrapping paper matched the tree.
Not whether you achieved some Pinterest-standard Christmas.
Perfection is a pressure we inherited, not a gift we need to pass on.
Let’s Talk About Gifts (And the Pressure There Too)
Another area parents push themselves?
Buying for everyone.
Before you know it, you’re knee-deep in gift lists for extended family, friends, neighbours, teachers, workmates, and that one relative who always gives a present even though you’ve repeatedly said you’re not doing gifts this year.
A couple of years ago, we decided:
"We’re buying for the kids only."
Everyone else, we love you, but no presents.
No guilt. No massively overdrawn bank balance. No late-night panic buying.
Just simplicity.
And do you know what?
Most adults were absolutely relieved when we said, “Let’s skip gifts this year.”
Because they’re overwhelmed too.
They’re financially stretched too.
They’re trying to simplify Christmas too.
Sometimes all it takes is one person being honest.
And suddenly everyone else breathes a sigh of relief.
The Family Get-Together Pressure
Ah yes… the traditional Christmas gathering.
Some people love a big, bustling family day filled with noise, laughter, balls of stuffing, and half the family complaining subtly-but-actually-not-subtly about the mashed potatoes.
And that’s wonderful, if you enjoy it.
But if you don’t?
If you’re overwhelmed, burnt out, or simply craving a quieter Christmas?
It’s okay to say so.
It doesn’t make you difficult.
It doesn’t make you rude.
It doesn’t make you the Grinch.
You might be surprised to find other family members wanting the same thing but too nervous to say it out loud.
Honesty makes space for boundaries.
Boundaries make space for calmer Christmases.
And calmer Christmases make space for connection.
The Christmas Kids Truly Remember
Here’s the heart of it all:
**Children don’t remember the performance.
They remember the parenting.**
Not the schedule.
Not the perfect photos.
Not the colour-coordinated pyjamas.
But moments like:
Watching a Christmas film together
Drinking molten Hot Chocolate
Singing badly to Mariah Carey
Doing a simple craft
Walking around the village looking at lights
Slow mornings instead of forced-fun outings
You sitting with them, not rushing past them
Kids feel your stress more than your sparkle.
And the thing they carry with them throughout their life isn’t whether you booked the “ultimate Christmas experience.”
It’s the memory of being loved by a parent who wasn’t overwhelmed to the point of numbness.
So, This Christmas… Let’s Lower the Bar Together
Lowering the bar isn’t giving up.
It’s giving your family what they genuinely need:
A calmer parent
A financially sensible Christmas
Realistic plans
Permission to slow down
More giggles and fewer meltdowns
Time to actually enjoy each other
Imagine the magic of a Christmas where you weren’t running on stress and caffeine.
Where your children saw the version of you that can breathe.
Where you felt present, not pressured.
Where you embraced “good enough” because it really is.
A Little Gentle Reminder
If this time of year feels heavy, overwhelming, lonely, or emotionally complicated, you’re not alone.
Christmas can bring up a lot, old wounds, family tension, financial worry, comparison, sensory overload, and the myth that “everyone else is coping perfectly.”
They aren’t.
Truly.
You’re allowed to do Christmas your way.
You’re allowed to rest.
You’re allowed to keep things simple.
You’re allowed to protect your peace.
If You Need Support
If this season feels like a lot, whether you’re a new parent, navigating postnatal emotions, or simply feeling weighed down by expectations, I’m here.
I offer warm, gentle, inclusive counselling support for parents and caregivers across the perinatal period and beyond. You don’t have to carry the mental load alone.
If you’d like to explore counselling, book a free initial call or pop me a message, you’ll be met with kindness, not judgement.
Matrescence: The Word That Changes Everything
November 2025
You’ve probably heard of adolescence, that intense, emotional period of transformation from child to adult. But have you ever heard of matrescence?
It’s the word that so perfectly captures what happens when we become parents. It’s the messy, beautiful, emotional metamorphosis that no one seems to mention before having a baby. It's the wobbly stage where everything changes, body, identity, emotions, and nobody really knows what’s going on. Imagine a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, it trusts that the change happening inside is leading into something beautiful.
So what is matrescence?
Matrescence (pronounced ma-tress-ence) describes the physical, emotional, social, and psychological changes that take place when someone becomes a parent.
It’s not just about sleepless nights and learning how to fasten a baby carrier (which, let’s be honest, feels like an impossible task at first). It’s about how your sense of self begins to change, your identity, your relationships, your priorities, even how you see the world.
Anthropologist Dana Raphael first coined the term back in the 1970s, but it’s only recently started getting the attention it deserves (thanks to Lucy Jones, author of Matrescence, and the podcast Motherkind in my eyes). And thank goodness for that, because having a word for what you’re going through can be incredibly validating.
You’re not “losing yourself", you’re becoming someone new.
Why no one talks about it (and why we should)
When we prepare for a baby, most of the focus is on birth plans, decorating the nursery, and baby clothes, not the huge emotional shift that happens inside you.
There’s a quiet expectation to “bounce back”, whatever that means, and return to your old self as though this transformation never happened. But how can you “go back” when everything, your body, your brain, your routines, has changed shape?
And then there’s the guilt. The guilt for feeling overwhelmed when you “should” feel grateful. The guilt for missing your old life, your independence, your uninterrupted thoughts.
But here’s the truth: you can love your baby more than anything and still find this transition hard. The two can exist side by side, messy, complicated, human.
When your brain feels like a browser with 57 tabs open
If matrescence had a mascot, it would probably be that feeling of trying to remember who you were before you had to pack a changing bag just to leave the house.
Your brain may feel foggy, your emotions unpredictable, and your patience… well, let’s just say it’s a work in progress.
Hormonal shifts, sleep deprivation, and the weight of constant responsibility can make even small things feel monumental. You might find yourself crying over cold tea, or staring at your baby in pure awe one minute and frustration the next. It’s all part of the emotional landscape of early parenthood; it certainly is a rollercoaster.
And if your nervous system feels constantly “switched on”, that’s no coincidence. The same instincts that help you respond to your baby’s needs can also keep you in a state of high alert. It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong, it’s that your body is still adapting to this new world.
The myth of ‘getting back to normal’
One of the biggest pressures new parents face is the idea that they should somehow “get back to normal.”
But what if you’re not meant to?
Matrescence invites us to reimagine who we are, to integrate the person we were with the person we’re becoming. It’s not a step backwards; it’s an evolution.
Maybe your priorities have changed. Maybe your friendships and relationships look different. Maybe you find yourself caring less about the things that once consumed you and more about what truly matters. That’s not loss, that’s growth.
Let’s be honest though, growth can be uncomfortable. Think of it as emotional stretching. Sometimes it aches, sometimes it feels wobbly, and sometimes you just want to lie on the floor and not grow at all for a bit. That’s fine too.
Relationships in the mix
Matrescence doesn’t just reshape your relationship with yourself, it ripples outwards.
Your partnership might feel different, your conversations might be more about nappies than Netflix, and you might wonder where “us” went.
You’re both navigating change, physically, emotionally, and practically. The trick is to remember that neither of you is doing it wrong; you’re both just figuring out a new way of being.
And for single parents, the load can feel even heavier. The expectation to be everything, do everything, and cope with everything can leave little room to simply be. Matrescence affects everyone differently, but the common thread is transformation.
The invisible mental load
Matrescence also shines a light on the mental load, the endless list of things that live in your head. From remembering appointments to packing snacks, paying bills, and planning dinners. It’s a full-time job before the actual full-time job.
And while you might look like you’re “just scrolling on your phone”, chances are you’re actually managing logistics, emotions, and survival strategies all at once.
This constant cognitive juggling act can contribute to anxiety and burnout. Recognising it is the first step to easing the load, because you deserve rest, not just survival.
Why talking helps
It’s easy to think you should just “get on with it”, especially when others seem to be coping. But comparison is a sneaky thief; it steals compassion from ourselves.
Therapy can offer a space to unpack it all, the emotions, the identity shifts, the “Is it just me?” moments.
Talking things through can help you feel grounded again, reminding you that this transformation doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human.
You don’t have to know exactly what you need before you start. Sometimes, it’s enough to begin with: “I just feel different, and I don’t know why".
Online counselling for parents
I offer online counselling for parents and caregivers who are navigating the emotional changes of parenthood.
Meeting online can make the process easier, no need to arrange childcare, travel to appointments, or worry about running late. You can simply log in from a quiet space (or a parked car, no judgment) and begin from wherever you are.
Whether you’re experiencing anxiety, low mood, overwhelm, or just a sense of having lost touch with yourself, therapy can be a place to explore that safely and gently.
You’re not broken, you’re in transition. And transitions take time
A few reminders before you go
It’s okay if you don’t love every moment. Nobody does.
It’s okay to miss who you were. That doesn’t mean you love your child any less.
It’s okay to feel like you’re still figuring it out. Everyone is.
You’re not behind. You’re becoming
Final thoughts
Matrescence is a transformation that deserves recognition and compassion. It’s the silent backdrop to so many new beginnings, powerful, raw, and deeply human.
If you’re finding this stage difficult, you don’t have to navigate it alone.
At Silver Tree Counselling, I offer a calm, understanding space to talk about the challenges of parenthood, identity, and emotional wellbeing.
No commute. No pressure. Just support that meets you where you are.
If this resonates with you, you can get in touch here to arrange an initial call