Unlearning the Guilt of Taking Up Space for Yourself

For a long time I told myself I was just being a good mum.

Always last. Always available. Always making sure everyone else was okay before I even thought about what I needed. I dressed it up as devotion. And for a while, that framing worked.

But depletion isn't devotion. And slowly, quietly, I started to disappear a little.

Not in a dramatic way. Just in the small ways. I stopped seeing my friends like I used to. I stopped performing - something I've loved my whole life - because the logistics of leaving felt too hard, too disruptive, too much to ask. I hadn't been to a show in over a year. Not because I didn't want to. But because somewhere along the way I'd stopped putting myself on the list.

My husband travels a lot for work, which means the windows for any of it - gigs, events, even just a night out are narrow. And when those windows close enough times, you stop looking for them.

Then recently, something shifted.

My husband got home from a trip and I had a rare window. There was a musical I'd been wanting to see, and for once, I just went. By myself. No kids. No mental load running in the background. Just me, in a theatre, watching something beautiful unfold in front of me.

I'd forgotten what that felt like. To be excited about artistry again. To sit in the dark and feel something that had nothing to do with school lunches or bedtime routines. To just be me, not mum, not the one holding everything together. Just Bec.

And then a few days later I had two gigs, back to back. It was a little chaotic. It was a lot to coordinate. But being on that stage, doing what I love, fully present in something that was entirely mine - I hadn't felt that in a long time. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until I was back in it.

Here's what I'm slowly unlearning:

Taking time for yourself isn't something you earn after everyone else is sorted. It's not a reward for getting through the hard stretch. It's maintenance. It's how you stay whole inside a life that asks a lot of you.

Self-care doesn't always look like what we're sold. Sometimes it's a massage or skincare or drinking from your favourite cup. But sometimes it's sitting alone in a theatre for two hours. Or getting on a stage and singing your heart out. Or going for a walk by yourself. Or reading an actual book. Or eating a meal you made just for you, slowly, while it's still hot.

The common thread isn't the activity. It's that it's yours. It fills something that giving and doing and managing can't fill.

I'm still learning this. I still catch myself feeling like I should be doing something more useful. But I know now what the cost of ignoring it looks like. And I know what it feels like to come back to yourself, even just for an evening.

A full cup really does look after people better than an empty one.

If you've been putting yourself last for a while — what's one small thing that's just yours? I'd love to know. 🤍