My Painted Smile: A Letter to the Anxiety-Ridden Mother


Fellow Momma,

I see you.

I see you as you muster up every ounce of strength you have left to go mingle with moms so that your kids can socialize.

I see you as you compare every aspect of yourself to women around you, inwardly feeling like a little girl standing next to these beautiful giants of motherhood who seemingly have it all figured out.

I see you as you beat yourself black and blue with guilt because you feel like you just can’t paint a smile on your panic attack today, so the play-date will have to wait.

I see you feeling like a failure as a mother because you know it is your responsibility to demonstrate how to function in this world, yet every fiber of your being goes on attack as soon as you step out the door.

I want you to know that I see you, Momma.  I see you, I know you, and at times, I am you.

Let it be okay.  Please, let it be okay.

Let it be okay to say “no” to a play-date instead of making grandiose excuses for why you just can’t be there.  

Let it be okay to stay cozy in your cave, cherishing sweet cuddles, instead of gallivanting around town every other day.

Let it be okay to remember that your child’s eyes do not light up for those other mommas—they light up for you. 

Let it be okay to recognize that motherhood is not about perfection, it’s about balance.  And sometimes balance means you challenge yourself; other times, it means you keep yourself in check and let yourself recharge.

Let it be okay to talk about social anxiety, or anxiety of any kind, without feeling like your child somehow pulled the short straw in the mom department. 

You are enough.  You have enough.  You give enough.

Let it be okay to love yourself up, over, and through the hard times because you know there’s so much light around the corner.

Let it be okay, Momma, and know that I see you.





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