The Goddess Myth

My nine-year-old thinks I walk on water. In her eyes, I am the epitome of the perfect mother. In contrast, my 16- and 18-year-old each cannot wait to escape what they often perceive to be my totalitarian regime. Balancing out such sharply contrasting views, my 24-year-old admits that, while there have been times that my mothering techniques might be questionable, at best, he can no longer deny that he didn’t make things any easier for either one of us. Today, as an adult who can reflect on the past with less biased views, my first-born child thinks I am a “good enough” mother. Personally, there are days when I have to strongly question my own methods, just as there are days – well, fleeting moments, anyway – where I think I should win the “Best Mom Ever” award. When measured against societal standards for mothers, though, I fall short. Some might even consider me a bad mother. I used to care what the outside world thought of me, and I tried, in vain, to adjust myself to better meet societal expectations. When I did, one of two things would happen: either I would continue to fall short in some (insignificant, in my mind) way, or, more often, I’d finally meet those ridiculous expectations, and then society would change them! Eventually, I had to do some real soul searching, and I had to honestly ask myself whether I was truly “good enough” to be a mother to my children. To this day, I still have moments when I am left questioning my own adequacy at mothering. Often, the only thing I can do is throw my hands up and say, “good enough.” Heck, we may as well just face it, perfection will always remain just out of reach. We mothers must stop reaching for something that we will never be able to grasp; that we were never meant to grasp. In the race to become the mythical perfect mother, we place ourselves in an unfair and burdensome position, where in the end, we are sure to be judged as failures – whether by those around us, or even worse, by ourselves. It is time that mothers unite against unrealistic parenting expectations and say, “No, thanks. I’ll settle for good enough.”

There may very well come a time when a mother feels as though she is faced with an impossible decision to make. Only she will understand the heart-wrenching and earthshattering ramifications of each decision. Yet, from deep within her, she will produce the courage to do what must be done. Time and time again, the mother has made countless sacrifices for the well-being of her children, and at times, those sacrifices have held a certain amount of violence. As a helpless baby, unable to care for oneself, there is still that sense of oneness between an infant and his mother. Eventually, though, a mother’s expectations are that the burden of care will lessen, as her child gains the independence that has been slowly and repetitiously instilled from a young age. By the time that child has grown more independent, a mother must be less willing to make those sacrifices, as to do so is to enable, which is of no help to anyone in the long run. What comes of the mother whose choices are to either sacrifice herself or sacrifice her “man/child?” After so many years of sacrificing – from the last of her food, to her time, and even her body – a mother must choose to live. Can we really fault her for such “selfishness?”

It is far too easy to form judgements regarding the mothering practices of others when we are viewing the situation as an outsider. If a woman’s silence is equated with her complaisance, then her disobedience in daring to voice her true feelings – even the ugly and unpleasant ones – surely must show her observers that it is OK to not walk around with stars in her eyes, without her heart fluttering with utter adoration for her child. However, it is that very realness that might lead some to overspeculation, shamelessly labeling the brutally honest mother as “nasty” by the “good” women in her community. This makes sense, if we consider that mothers are so often vilified for the transgressions of their children – regardless of their age or their “crime.”

What should be highlighted instead is a mother’s acknowledgement that she loves her daughter despite her negative qualities. We should be praising such candor because, let’s face it, mothers know and understand exactly what the honest woman is talking about. We’ve been there. If some of us can’t – or won’t – admit to ever having those feelings, well, so be it. I will admit it though, and guess what… I feel no guilt. Why? Well, that’s the easy part. Mother and child are separate individuals; if we were to put any two people in a room together, where they would eventually learn everything there is to know about each other, I am certain that each of them would find details about the other that are unlikable. Brother and sister, husband and wife, mother and child; naming the way in which we are connected does not protect us from discovering unlikeable qualities in each other. Also, did it never occur to us that maybe, just maybe, the parts of her child that a woman does not particularly like are those very parts that reminded her of herself? After all, a mother cannot escape the fact that her genetics will “rub off” on her child. And those very characteristics that we have gifted to our children – the ones that we find so incredibly endearing while they are young and malleable – are the same characteristics that we may grow to dislike in our children as they become older; the jaded bliss of motherhood is swiped away, and we barely recognize the being that stands before us, almost – yet not quite – a mirror of ourselves. Woman is flawed, no doubt, but who isn’t?

What if, instead of perfection, we were to strive for “bad enough?” Perhaps then, would we be good enough? In a culture that is so intent to blame mothers most everything, survival is an important lesson for our children. The flawed mother who has no regrets surely must feel weightless. Why? Because, despite her admitted flaws, she knows that her children love her. To them, she is not simply a good enough mother; she is the only mother that is good enough. Additionally, in acknowledging her own transgressions, this mother will not allow society to define her. In bearing her blame, she cannot be weighed down by the blame of others. She has found a way to live with herself, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes, and in watching their mother do this, her children are learning how to survive their own impending failures to meet unrealistic expectations.

We don’t have to do it all; as a matter of fact, we can’t, but our society doesn’t tell us that. Instead, we are constantly under the watchful eye of our judges, while they hold their breath in anticipation of our fall from the pedestal. I’m sorry, but I will not – no, I cannot – tell you how to be a good enough mother to your own children. As Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique has pointed out to us, many women who have been expected to “devote their lives” to husbands and children – nothing more, nothing less – have been too “ashamed to admit [their] dissatisfaction” with their lives. Historically, women have thought that the problem must reside within themselves, as everybody else appears to be satisfied.

This is why it is so incredibly important that we are not afraid to talk about our struggles. We need to do this, as it may be our only means of ending the stigmatization of imperfection. We all feel it, that little bubble of guilt that tells us all of the things we should have done better. Why hide those feelings, instead continuously attempting to show the world that we are the mythical, and therefore impossible, perfect mother? We all know, deep down, that perfection is a lie. In our attempts to stuff our struggles down, hiding them from the world, what are we actually accomplishing? For starters, such long-term feelings of unhappiness and failure are bound to lead to depression. Cries for help, which may sound more like an angry and frustrated mother than one who is depressed and has lost control of her emotions, will be judged by those around us as sheer craziness. We do ourselves no favors by hiding our imperfections from the world, as this simply prompts others to create false narratives about us.

We must abandon the belief that, in order to be a good mother, there is a need to sacrifice our own selves. Being good enough is not synonymous with loss of self. My youngest child was trying to list off five things that she knows I like the other day, but she drew a blank. After a long pause, she said, “I know, you like your kids and schoolwork. That’s five things.” I’ll admit, I was disappointed, but I used this as an opportunity to teach her a valuable lesson. We talked about being individuals, and how nobody wants to be defined by their attachment to another person, because if that which defines us is taken away, what would we be? The answer: nothing. At least, that’s how it might feel.

Mothers, if you feel that you need a break, take it; if you need help, speak up, because the odds are that nobody is going to offer it if you don’t demand it. There are nights when I feel as though I just can’t bring myself to cook another dinner, so I don’t. Instead, my husband might cook, or the family eats sandwiches, sometimes with chips and sometimes with carrot sticks, or even with both. Sometimes, I tell them that if they want dinner, they can make it themselves. We even settle for *GASP* fast food! The point is, it’s good enough. Why? Well, for two reasons; first, nobody starves. Second, I don’t have to cook dinner. Ultimately, I get the small break that I need, but my family learns an important lesson too. They all discover that they are capable of more than they realize (which can provide them with a sense of pride), and they do not need to rely on me for food. They probably haven’t really needed me to feed them since grade school, but cultural expectations teach our children that a mother’s job is – not simply to provide for – but to feed her children. So, why isn’t it good enough that I provide the means, if they can prepare it themselves?

Whether we open ourselves up to the idea of asking for (and accepting) help when we need it, or not, the fact is that we will never achieve that goddess-level mothering that we strive for. This does not mean that we should not give motherhood our best attempt, but that we will not fall apart when our imagination is better than the reality we are dealt. It means that we will set our own limits and expectations, and not be bullied by our society. This does not mean that we don’t love our children, but that we are showing ourselves love, too.

It is up to each of us, as individuals, to decide what equates to “good enough.” This is not something that we do just once, but every day, sometimes more than once a day. We decide whether or not a particular outcome is something we can live with. If so, then great; that’s good enough. If not, well, we just take everything day by day. The point, though, is that we are making our own choices; we are defining motherhood for ourselves. We will no longer hide in the corner and hope that our mistakes go unrecognized. We will freely admit to our “not quite, but good enough" parenting mishaps as a means of shedding light on the normalcy of unperfect parenting. We will recognize that each new day brings the possibility to be better than the day before; if that doesn’t happen, we can try again tomorrow.

For the sake of your own well-being, the time has come that you demand to be seen as a multi-flawed individual. To be seen as anything other than that is a great disservice to you! My husband tells me I am perfect. (Aww, I know, so sweet…) He doesn’t understand why this would frustrate me. I think he finds amusement in my dissatisfaction with such a label, which he assigns to me out of love. He is in awe of all that I can do in a day, such as getting the children up and off to school, going to my classes, working, cleaning up the house and doing laundry, making dinner, reading to the youngest child and helping her with homework, and getting everyone off to bed for the night before I begin my homework. Somewhere in between all of that, I juggle calls from the school, calls to the doctor, various appointments, and on occasion, taking care of a sick child. What he doesn’t see is the stress and pressure that I feel to get most of these tasks completed before he comes home. If the dishes are still in the sink, or the youngest’s homework is not yet done, he steps in to take on such tasks – and it makes me a sudden failure. You’re probably wondering why, and the answer is quite simple. My husband has told me that all these things are what makes me “perfect.” In my mind, my failure to live up to the label he has given me, I am officially less than perfect.

Throughout our lives, we are often led to believe that we are perfect; from the time we are small girls, to the time of our first romantic relationship, and on and on. We find it endearing as children and teens, and it certainly can have its advantages. But when this misplaced perfection is revoked, the shame and failure strip us bare and leave splintered pieces of us strewn about. Therefore, we must not allow others to fool us into believing we can do no wrong. Ladies, we are smarter than that, and we must be willing to shed our cloaks of mythical perfection and lay bare our flawed souls. When a woman does not allow herself to become lost – when she is true to who she really is – she will never be lacking; she will always be good enough.

Works Cited

Friedan, Betty. The Feminine Mystique. W. W. Norton & Company, 1963, https://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/ows/seminars/tcentury/FeminineMystique.pdf. National Humanities Center. Accessed 22 Mar. 2023.