I’ve been reflecting on why it often feels like I need to hide or feel guilty when I take time for my own well-being.
In helping professions, we are ethically bound to prioritize our clients’ best interests. Given the constant demand for services, this often translates to an expectation of being consistently present and available. We are compensated for our dedication to others, which I find deeply rewarding.
However, this raises a crucial question: what societal shifts are needed so that individuals no longer feel the need to apologize for prioritizing their health and personal needs, even if it’s after attending to everyone else in their household?
This thought was reinforced by a recent visit to urgent care during a rare opening in my schedule. I saw a sign there that highlighted some very concerning behaviors that frontline workers often encounter, yet these experiences frequently go unacknowledged. The fact that this healthcare facility felt compelled to post such a sign suggests these incidents are alarmingly common.
It seems that despite our progress, we still have work to do in managing some of our more basic impulses.
At 7:06 PM, I finally got to sit and relax for about 20 minutes before it was time to start the kids’ bedtime routine and the inevitable negotiations about going to sleep.
It’s funny because, despite how challenging parenting can be, it’s one of the most fulfilling things in my life. Through my children, I’ve truly gotten to know and love myself for the first time. It’s an ongoing process, but my desire to equip them with the wisdom and tools they’ll need to navigate the world without falling into snares, distractions, or entrapments always brings my mom’s words to mind. She used to warn me, “pela el ojo” (keep your eye open), ever since I was a little girl, around Elise’s age. It’s taken me a few decades to fully grasp the meaning of her advice.
My point is that to teach my kids how I want them to be, I need to model that behavior myself, not just preach it. With this in mind, I’m sitting here by the fan, with a cold drink next to me, enjoying the peace that comes from reflecting on the day and the experiences my children had. A natural part of our day involved talking with neighbors and playing with their pets. Today, our neighbor generously gave us six mangoes, which are in season! Elise and Iliya dug right in, just as I used to at their age. They played with Panchita, and Elise keeps talking about how Panchita likes her and how much she loves dogs and cats.
Afterward, we went for a leisurely stroll in nature. It felt surreal just sitting under the trees, enjoying the breeze and the greenery, with the kids relaxed, playing on nature’s playground, climbing and swinging from a tree. Iliya participated but quickly resorted to enjoying the outing in his own style, chewing twigs and playing with soil.
Amidst the heat and the constant supervision of two very active and curious kids, I’m trying to cultivate a sense of freedom, autonomy, and independence in them.
This brings me to an imbalance I’ve been pondering, trying to process and make sense of.
Tonight, during the kids’ bedtime routine, which included a shower for Iliya and applying lotion and bug repellent to both him and Elise, I found myself enjoying those peaceful moments of being present and providing care. If I enjoy these moments so much, then why is it so tiresome? I realize it’s due to the imbalance of demands and expectations placed on professional working mothers. You’re expected to perform at the same capacity at work as everyone else who doesn’t face the same challenges at home.
Why are working parents expected to perform at the same rate as non-caregivers? The societal expectation placed on women, particularly mothers, often remains tied to a traditional ideal of unwavering domestic devotion, even as they increasingly participate in the professional workforce. This creates a dual burden. While men are often lauded for simply “helping out” with childcare, women are often implicitly, and sometimes explicitly, held responsible for the entire domestic sphere alongside their professional duties.
There is a deeply ingrained assumption that a mother’s primary role is within the home, a perception that rarely extends to fathers with the same intensity. This disparity manifests in subtle and overt ways, from the lack of adequate parental leave for fathers to the societal judgment faced by mothers who prioritize their careers. This imbalance not only exhausts working mothers but also perpetuates an inequitable system that undervalues the immense contributions of caregivers and fails to acknowledge the demanding realities of modern family life.
I’ve been going through a major shift in my beliefs and the way I make decisions. As old certainties fall away, much like the Tower card in the Tarot deck, my own identity is shifting. I’m becoming someone I don’t fully know yet, and it’s mostly because of my kids.
The other afternoon, with some free time on my hands, I naturally spent it with my two young children. A simple moment perfectly captured my new reality. My father-in-law brought my son, Iliya, in from outside. Iliya immediately darted for the couch, but I instinctively redirected him. “We wash our hands when we come inside,” I said, launching into a familiar song to coax him to the kitchen sink. I lifted his chubby arms, turned on the water, and guided him through the routine I’ve taught him countless times: “This is the way we wash our hands…”
Afterward, Iliya spotted his sister’s leftover chicken and rice. He walked over to the table and began eating with his freshly washed hands. I noticed and intervened, offering to warm it up. While I put the bowl in the microwave, he ran off to play. A few minutes later, he was back in the kitchen, happily eating his now-warm meal while his sister chatted away beside me. Within a few more minutes, he was done, and it was time for me to clean up the scattered rice and grease—and, of course, wash his hands again.
Then came the tell-tale sign of a bowel movement—the squat, the facial expression. The whole ritual began anew: upstairs for a shower and a change.
The point of all this is that these caregiving activities have become the priority in my world. I see how my daughter, Elise, looks up to me for answers. She clings to my side, literally saying, “Mommy, I want to be with you.” Right now, my priorities are to show up for my family, my aging mother, and myself. They are the lifeline that keeps me going.
This new perspective has made me reflect on a paradox. Society punishes parents for neglect if they leave their children unattended, yet it often pushes back when working parents ask for the help they need to both parent and be active in the labor force. As women professionals, we fought for our careers because we want to feel productive and have our voices and ideas valued. But at the same time, nature and societal expectations place the protective instincts of a “fit parent” squarely on the mother.
We’re expected to be role models, teacher, friend, cook, driver, doctor, and entertainer—all while performing in the workplace with the same capacity as those without children.
So, where does the responsibility truly fall? Is raising conscientious adults solely an individual’s duty? Or is it a societal responsibility, given that everyone benefits from social talent and innovation, and everyone suffers when people are hurt and commit hurtful acts?
I don’t have the answers, but I invite people to reflect on these questions. My hope is that the scales of balance will one day tip more toward the center, and women can feel less overwhelmed and burdened.
Pro Mosaico Humano 