Let’s start a bit darker this time.
Us, moms, we often feel under appreciated, taken for granted, compared with, overworked, unseen, lonely, scared. We often feel lost and exhausted. And yet, we don’t ask for help because we can do it all alone! We choose to swallow our tears, put the makeup on, and go out to fight another day alone.
And fighting is often what we decide before the battle even begins. This instinct to prove, and never crumble, didn’t appear out of nowhere.
It’s old.
Older than our mothers.
Older than their mothers.
It’s a story women have been told, and we still choose to believe in it.
Why We Think We Must Do It Alone: A Bit of History We Carry On Our Backs
Women have been trained for decades, if not centuries, to value hard work over shared effort. A “good woman,” in many cultures, was the one who manages without complaint.
I grew up in the Soviet Union, and I was raised in the style of silent acceptance, of “strong womanhood,” where strength meant suffering invisibly. And despite the romanticized image of communism floating around these days, the reality was simple:
Women had no rights there. Not real ones. Yes, they had the “right” to work full-time, to cook, to raise children, to keep the house spotless, to look after their men… even when their men were lying flat and deadly drunk on the corridor’s floor. And a real right to hide the black eye at work the next morning while their female colleague hid her own.
There was no option to be a housewife, nor a businesswoman, nor a high-level manager. Every woman had to be managed by a man, any man, regardless of his character, his education, or his ability. Women weren’t allowed to outshine men, even if they were obviously smarter or more capable.
They didn’t have the right to divorce that man who gave them bruises. Well, technically they could, but socially speaking, that man on a corridor floor was better than no man at all.
They didn’t have the right to choose not to marry either. And they didn’t have the right to complain.
This is the soil my roots grew in. Together with the idea that a woman’s life is not supposed to be easy. And that dignity comes from hiding your struggles and being comfortable for society.
And it’s not the Soviet Union only, other countries had their own methods to “manage” women. Some made them housewives, some accessories. Despite the social background, we all have been told we should be comfortable for others around us.
And This History Still Lives in Us Today
Asking for help is associated with weakness even now. Doing it alone is strong, admirable, almost holy. These old patterns didn’t disappear; they just got integrated into modern expectations.
Today, they show up as:
- Do more to impress a man.
- Be better than your neighbour so your man will not drift away.
- Try harder at work and at home so you’re irreplaceable.
So we choose to do more proving, more work, take more responsibilities. When someone assigns us a massive extra task, we treat it like a reward: They trust me. They need me. I’m valuable!
Brag about this to your girlfriends, and they’ll say:
“Wow, you made it, girl. You run the place.”
Tell it to a random man, and he’ll ask:
“Do they pay extra?”
And that’s not being rude, men have simply been taught differently. Men were historically trained to see labor as transactional. Women were trained to see it as validation.
And so the cycle continues. We work, we treat, we cook, we worry, we age. And we sometimes feel very, very tired and lonely.
But we don’t ask for help.
Instead of calling our family together and assigning weekly duties to each of them, we do it ourselves.
Instead of asking our team for help, we take work home.
Instead of asking for a promotion, we wait until someone notices us.
Instead of helping another woman, we think: “I’ve been there too, nobody helped me much, she’ll figure it out.”
The Quiet Competition Between Women
We are told, directly or indirectly, not to trust other women, so we compete. We judge. We compare.
We look up to other women who “succeed,” but deep down, we relate more to those who struggle. When a woman achieves some great success, she must bring out something heavy, something painful, something to justify her success, the Cinderella narrative. Otherwise, she’s scared she will be judged, not by men, but by other women.
While a successful, handsome man comfortably owns the successes he achieved, a woman who made it, and god forbid also looks beautiful and is smart, is considered not-relatable. So to be socially accepted, or accepted by other women, she must squeeze some suffering into it, some dark undertones. Otherwise it’s not HER achievements, it’s her father, husband, boss, her genes, or plastic surgery. You name it.
When I Thought Doing It Alone Was Something to Be Proud Of
For many years, I was so proud of my single-parenting effort. And yes, there is pride in surviving something so hard. But doing it all alone should not be worn like a medal. I should have asked for help. Not because I was weak, but because I was human!
I was alone because I chose a new country for us. But I was also alone because I thought I needed to prove I could do it. As if, to win alone for all the moms from the Soviet Union who had no choice but to stay in their marriages. How silly of me, because by doing it I still valued suffering.
Despite believing I was raising my daughter alone, the truth was: many people helped. Friends, family, teachers, classmates and their moms, even the shop owner downstairs who chatted with her every evening while I was still at work. They were all part of our story, but I only allowed myself to see my own sacrifice.
Even when my partner later stepped in offering love and help to both of us, I rejected it, again and again. I didn’t want to be “one of those women” who accept, let’s say, financial help. So instead, I put myself through enormous stress and extra hours to simply make ends meet. Because I HAD JUDGED women who accepted help, and I didn’t want to be judged the way I had judged them.
What I Know Now
No mom should feel pride in saying: “Nobody helped me with this Christmas table. I did it all by myself.” Same as I shouldn’t feel pride in saying that I raised my daughter alone. Thinking so feeds the victim in me and, honestly, is very very sad. Because that only means I’m still trying to prove something, instead of simply being. I am exhausting myself instead of cooperating, and continuing to follow a pattern where women can’t sit still and enjoy the moment because we must constantly prove our worth.
And here is the naked truth: Alone is not stronger. Alone is not braver. Alone is tiring and lonely.
When we all together worship single moms “because there is no man to trust,” instead of proudly seeking to involve everyone, we raise boys ready NOT to be trusted and girls to be SOLO over-performers. And that cycle keeps rewinding itself into the next generation.
It took me more than ten years to understand this. I hope you will understand it faster.
And if nobody has told you this today, you’re allowed to feel tired.
You’re allowed to ask for help.
You’re allowed to rest.
You’re allowed to be human. A woman who is STRONG enough not to be alone and to seek support as much as she can get.
Starting from today.
