(5 min. read)
It’s not always the people around you who make you feel small.
Sometimes, it’s the voice in your own head, the one that replays your mistakes, questions your parenting, and whispers, You’re not enough.
That voice is sneaky. It often sounds like it’s trying to help. Like it’s keeping you “honest” or “realistic.” But what it’s really doing is wearing you down. And for solo parents, that voice can be especially loud. There’s no one else to tag in, no one else to affirm you at the end of the day. It’s just you. And that critic in your mind? It’s relentless.
If you’ve ever walked away from a simple interaction and spent the next hour analyzing it, or if one offhand comment can undo your entire sense of stability, you’re not alone. And you’re not broken. But you might be carrying judgment that was never yours to begin with.
Elizabeth Cole, a single parent, shared a story from years ago that captures this well. She was on the beach trying to help her stepdaughter with a school assignment. Things got tense. She was frustrated, her stepdaughter was frustrated, and a woman nearby gave Elizabeth a look and shook her head. That single moment, just a look, haunted her for years.
But over time, she realized it wasn’t really the stranger’s judgment that stuck with her. It was her own. “I felt ashamed of how I’d handled it,” she said. “I hadn’t made peace with the way I showed up as a parent in that moment. So her judgment just confirmed what I was already telling myself.”
Sometimes what we interpret as someone else judging us is actually our own unresolved shame speaking through their silence.
This is what internal judgment does: it takes root quietly. It feeds on past regrets and unhealed moments. And then it disguises itself as truth.
Robert Beeson, Founder and CEO of Solo Parent, says that one of the hardest parts of solo parenting is how much time we spend in our own heads. “We carry the weight of every decision. So when we mess up, or think we mess up, it’s easy to spiral.”
That spiral often leads to overcompensating. Trying harder. Explaining more. Pouring out extra energy to prove that we’re okay. But underneath all that effort is fear. Fear of being misunderstood. Fear of being left out. Fear of confirming that little voice inside that says, See? They were right about you all along.
It doesn’t have to stay that way.
Marissa Lee, author and single parent, suggests starting with simple questions: Would I say this to a friend in my shoes? Where did I learn that being a single parent makes me less than? Whose voice am I really hearing right now?
She added, “We often adopt critical inner narratives from people who were harsh with us, parents, former partners, even church leaders. Those voices live in our heads long after the moment has passed.”
Recognizing where that voice comes from is the first step toward quieting it. Because if it isn’t yours, you don’t have to keep listening.
Elizabeth talks about how overcompensating was her way of staying safe. “I’d go out of my way to make people feel comfortable with me, especially if I felt like they were judging me. But really, I was trying to manage their perception of me to feel less insecure.” She eventually realized that kind of self-protection was exhausting, and not actually necessary.
If someone is a safe person, you don’t have to over-explain yourself. And if they’re not a safe person? You don’t owe them anything anyway.
There’s a kind of healing that comes when you stop trying to be “bulletproof” and start being honest. When you stop performing strength and start embracing the tenderness that’s been there all along.
There are a set of questions that can help when your inner critic gets loud.
- Would I judge someone else for the same thing I’m judging myself for?
- Do I know this thought is true, or am I just afraid that it is?
- If I had more compassion for myself, how would I see this differently?
These are not just therapeutic prompts. They’re lifelines. They interrupt the shame loop long enough for truth to get a word in.
And here’s what’s true:
You’ve done more than most people will ever understand.
You’ve held things together that could have fallen apart. You’ve grown, healed, and rebuilt in the dark, with no one clapping, no one posting about it, and no one giving you credit.
That’s not failure. That’s resilience.
One of the most powerful shifts you can make is this: stop trying to prove you’re okay. Start believing that you are.
You don’t need to be perfect to be whole. You don’t need to be understood to be valid. You don’t need to “get it right” to deserve gentleness.
So when that voice shows up, when it tells you that you should have handled something better, or that someone else would have done it differently, pause.
Then remind yourself, This is not the voice of truth. This is the voice of fear.
And I get to choose which one I listen to.
