Somewhere between packing lunch boxes, answering office calls, finding missing socks, and remembering who likes less sugar in their milk, a silent myth is born — “A good mother is always available.”
It sounds noble. It feels right. But let’s be honest… it’s also a little dangerous.
Because being “always available” often means being always exhausted.
And exhaustion has a strange personality. It doesn’t knock politely. It barges in, sits on your patience, and whispers things like, “Why are you so irritated?” — even when the real question should be, “Why haven’t you rested?”
There’s a beautiful line I once read:
“You cannot pour from an empty cup, but mothers are somehow expected to serve a full buffet.”
Funny, right? Painfully funny.
Taking time for yourself is often misunderstood as selfishness. But is it really? Or is it maintenance — like charging a phone before it dies mid-call?
Think about it. When you take even a small break — a quiet cup of coffee, a short walk, a few pages of a book — something magical happens. Your mind softens. Your voice becomes kinder. Your patience stretches a little longer.
And your children? They don’t lose you. They actually get a better version of you.
Burnout, on the other hand, is like invisible smoke. It fills the house slowly. No one notices at first. But soon, it shows up in sharp replies, tired smiles, and “just five minutes” turning into “not now.”
As the wise words echo:
“Rest is not a reward; it is a responsibility.”
Indian literature beautifully reflects this balance of self and duty. In “The Palace of Illusions” by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, Draupadi’s inner voice constantly reminds us that even the strongest woman carries unseen exhaustion. Similarly, Sudha Murty’s stories gently highlight how small pauses in life bring clarity, compassion, and strength.
Because strength is not in constant doing — it is in knowing when to pause.
Let me slip in a tiny poem for your heart:
In the noise of “Mumma” and “just one more thing,”
She forgets the quiet her own soul can bring.
A moment of stillness, a breath, a pause,
And suddenly, she’s herself — without a cause.
The truth is, children don’t need a perfect mother. They need a present one. And presence doesn’t come from running on empty.
So the next time guilt taps on your shoulder when you sit down for yourself, smile at it and say,
“I’m not stepping away from my family. I’m stepping back into myself.”
Because a rested mind listens better.
A peaceful heart loves deeper.
And a fulfilled person gives more — effortlessly.
Thought to ponder
If taking care of yourself makes you a calmer, kinder, and more present person… is it really selfish, or is it the most selfless thing you can do?
Sharon's Read And Reflect 
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