The Morning that Broke Me: A Mother's Confession
- Sreedevi Arun
- Jul 26, 2025
- 3 min read
Vartika Arya
As a mindfulness coach and a mother, I often find myself caught between what I teach and what I feel. This is a personal story I wasn't sure I’d share — but I know many parents and professionals will relate. This post isn’t about being right. It’s about being real.
This morning began like any other — rushed, chaotic, yet filled with intention. I was getting my daughter ready for school: lunch packed, uniform ironed, bag checked, shoes in place. As always, the clock was ticking fast and we were racing against time to make it to the school bus.
Those last few minutes are always the most intense — brushing her hair, fixing her ponytail, ensuring everything is in order. But today, she was unusually restless. While I tried to tie her hair, she kept moving, turning her head, making it harder with each passing second. I calmly asked her to sit straight and look forward — just for a minute. I reminded myself: today is her review test. I didn’t want to disturb her focus. I didn’t want to raise my voice. Twice I paused, reminding myself to stay centered.
But then she said something — something I found intolerable in that already heightened moment — and I lost control.
I slapped her.
She burst into tears. The ponytail was done, but the emotional damage was immediate. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t hug me goodbye. Just one sentence that pierced my heart: “I will never hug you again.”
As she left, without even a glance back, I stood there — shattered.
The guilt hit me like a storm. "Why did I react like that?" Her small face had red fingerprints — and it broke me completely.
Ten minutes later, I called her school bus in-charge, requesting to speak to my daughter. Amidst the background noise, I kept repeating, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t hear me properly, but after the fourth or fifth time, she softly said “It’s okay.” It brought momentary relief, but my heart remained heavy.
For hours, I was disturbed. I couldn’t stop crying. I kept questioning myself: Why couldn’t I handle that moment better? I’m a mindfulness coach. I train people — especially teens — to remain calm, focused, and centered. And yet, I failed in my own home, in front of the person I love most.
That inner voice began judging me: “You’re a bad mother. A failure. A hypocrite.”
Others even called me 'chandi’ — a storm — which felt unbearable. But then came a deeper question: "If I were truly a bad mother, why would this break me so deeply?"
The truth is — motherhood is not perfect. It's not filtered, framed, or flawless. It’s raw. Emotional. Human.
Even with all the tools, training, and awareness — we can still falter. And when we do, it hurts. Because we care.
This post isn’t about justifying my actions — it’s about reflecting, owning the pain, and showing up differently next time. It’s about breaking the illusion that mindfulness means perfection. It doesn’t. It means awareness. It means owning up. It means saying sorry — even when your voice trembles.
If you’re a parent, or someone who’s ever lost control for a brief moment and hated yourself for it — please know you are not alone. You are not weak. You are human. And every moment gives us a chance to do better.
As I waited for my daughter to come home, all I wanted was to hold her tight, apologize again, and promise to do better — not just as her mother, but as a human being trying to walk this path with more awareness.
If this resonated with you, or if you've experienced a similar moment of regret and reflection, I invite you to share your story in the comments. Let’s open up honest conversations around parenting, pressure, and emotional growth.
#Mindfulness #ParentingJourney #Motherhood #EmotionalIntelligence #RealStories #SelfAwareness #WorkingMothers #PersonalGrowth #BloggersCommunity #HealingThroughHonesty #happiitude_global
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