Confidence, according to Merriam-Webster, is the trust one has in their powers and abilities. We can easily identify what an "ability" is—it’s something we do with ease, a skill, a capability we act upon gracefully. But let’s pause for a moment to unpack the more elusive word here: power.
I’ve heard countless times that my power lies in my ability to control how I react. That my true strength is in emotional self-control. When I lose that control, I’ve essentially handed my power over to someone else. Whether it's fear, anger, or even pleasure, once someone else controls those emotional buttons, I’m no longer in charge. I’ve become a puppet.
And who are these "puppet masters"? For many of us, it’s Instagram, TikTok, or perhaps the neighbor down the street. But more often than not, it’s our kids. Yes, my children seem to have the tightest grip on my emotions, and if that’s where I’m giving away my power, I need to ask myself: How do I take it back?
If my power is defined by my ability to control how I feel, and how I react, then the first step is recognizing the emotion that is most often manipulated by my kids. That emotion? Guilt.
Guilt, as Brene Brown so wisely puts it, is what we feel when we believe we’ve fallen short—when we didn’t do enough or didn’t do something right. It's that sinking feeling when, as a mom, you’re balancing a million responsibilities but miss packing the astronaut’s lunch for his trip to the moon.
Let me tell you something: I’ve never met a mother who hasn’t felt guilt. It’s the driving force behind our constant search for improvement. We’re always trying to perfect the rocket, terrified it might crash at launch, fail to reach its destination, or worse, not even leave the ground.
But here’s the reality: no single person is responsible for launching a NASA mission. There are dozens—hundreds—of people calculating every detail to ensure success. So why do we, as moms, expect ourselves to pull off this enormous task with just one brain, two hands, and one heart?
It’s simply impossible.
And yet, we still give our power to our kids. And here’s the kicker: our kids model us. They mirror our behavior, our reactions, the way we manage life’s pressures. Why would we expect them to grow up with less guilt than we have when we are their reference?
This brings me to an important point: What if my power isn’t just about controlling how others make me feel? What if that’s only a side effect of something deeper?
We use the word “power” in many contexts. A power plant generates energy that lights up our homes—an invisible force, much like electricity, that we can’t see but experience its effects. Power is also something superheroes possess. Superman has the power of laser eyes, Spiderman has heightened senses. These powers allow them to do extraordinary things.
So, what if my power resides not in controlling emotions, but in knowing what I’m good at and embracing it? What if my power is recognizing my strengths so confidently that I’m not afraid of failing?
Superman didn’t start out feeling confident. It wasn’t until he learned his origins and his father explained his superpowers that he truly believed in himself. If I allow my children to make me doubt my abilities, isn't that kind of sneaky? And what kind of example would that set for them?
It’s a mess of emotions, right? We’re driven by our children’s needs, guilt follows, and we end up losing sight of our own strengths. Worse still, we disconnect from our internal compass—the one that tells us when we need rest, when we’re good at something, or when we’re exhausted.
Moms, we are notoriously bad at recognizing physical exhaustion. We keep going, working, doing—often until it’s too late. This is why so many of us end up with knee pain, chronic fatigue, or inflammation that spreads through our bodies. And because modern medicine treats symptoms rather than causes, the cycle continues.
We’re told to protect our power, but here’s the catch: the Trojan horse is already inside the gates. We’ve already handed over our power to our children.
I can see it in my own mother—on autopilot, forever pleasing, caring, giving. And so, we raise kids who are the center of our universe, only to end up exhausted, angry, or even divorced. The real sacrifice, though, is ourselves.
The concept of sacrifice often gets confused with unconditional love. Unconditional love means accepting every part of a person, mistakes and all. But when we’re unwilling to extend that same grace to ourselves, constantly trying to be the perfect mom, the damage is done.
So, how do we reclaim our power? By giving ourselves the space to fail. By accepting our strengths. By making a conscious decision every day to choose how we feel.
That is real power.
Trusting my Feelings and acting accordingly ends up being the compass. so if i don't accept Guilt or anything related to making me feel bad...I become again the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.
Self-confidence, then, is not about being perfect; it’s about deciding how you want to show up, no matter who or what you’re dealing with. Confidence is a choice—an attitude.
And that, dear fellow mothers, is a complete 180 from the maternal model I was raised with.
How about you?
Comments