I don't want to be good. I want to be free.

A friend recently told me that she appreciated the way I spoke to my child a few years ago when my two or three year old didn’t want to leave to go home with me. Apparently I gave options, listened and was patient. 

I don’t really remember it but I know that while I might have appeared put together on the outside I would have been panicking internally, so worried that I was coming across as weak while resolute in fulfilling my own expectations of myself as a “good mother”. I was most likely pulling from an internal script, constantly measuring myself against a set of rules designed to help me perform under pressure. 

I’m relieved to have come off well in my friend’s memory. I also think my very specific standards for myself may have helped me give my child what she needed at that moment. But the cost of being a “good mother” has been high. And I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid at paying it because the role naturally followed on from being a “good girl” which I subconsciously believed had kept me safe.

My religious tape was still playing loudly. Except now it was telling me this is what you do to avoid fucking up your kids. This is what you have to do to be good. And by good I really meant perfect. But I don’t even want to be good. I want to be free. 

Relying on standards and rules just wasn’t sustainable. I’d always end up pushing the button too hard and moving between extremes. In the baby stage I adopted attachment/natural/gentle/respectful/conscious parenting with the same fervour I’d given Jesus. 

I read, watched and listened to learn the script and searched myself each night to find the places where I’d failed. I evangelistically shared the news. I couldn’t just have a conversation. I felt like I always needed to have an answer for why we were doing the things we were doing.

When we fully embraced self direction in our home education (ie we began unschooling) I rejected anything that looked remotely formal. I was then surprised when my children started showing that they wanted more structure and more support in finding challenges.

Shifting between extremes like this, between binaries, is the modus operandi in a worldview guided only by rules. And rules are effectively the advice of others. Now that I feel closer to free than I did then, I’d say freedom is more like having a checking in place to listen for my inner wisdom or just a calmer, more forgiving place inside of me. 

This is the home of self-trust, which is what allows me to trust my children and show up for them in the way I want. Not because I’m straining to be a good mother but because this is where I’m happy. Perfect (or highest self) doesn’t feel to me like it leaves enough room for this home to be known because it doesn’t leave room for mistakes. When you’re not allowed to make mistakes, you’ll obsessively outsource your wisdom.

That’s why I’ve been reluctant in recent years to make parenting the thing I write about, although I’m aware it’s probably the reason folk engage with me online. I’m very wary of even appearing to set myself up as some kind of expert over here doing whatever I’m doing family life wise.

I’m convinced that if we look after ourselves, that’s what will actually look after the rest. Scripts can be helpful but on their own they manage to be both hollow and a burden. They only work if we’re able to find a way out of being scared of everything and everyone all the time. We need to move from inner freedom, from an ability to trust. And that comes from committing to love ourselves, even just a little at a time.

A little vague? Overwhelming? Let’s make it practical. Here’s a life prompt to get going.

Practise being publicly bad at something fun you’ve always wanted to do. Go dancing. Join a life drawing group. Learn to rollerskate. Resist the urge to over-research. Ask others in your life for and give yourself the support you need to know that you are safe, that you are well, that you are loved, that none of this relies on how good you are at whatever it is you’re trying. That you deserve to be and have fun in this place.

What do you think you’ll do?

Your nervous system may be activated. How will you let your body know that you are safe?