The Loneliness of Command
This is a term I first heard when I became a CEO of an organisation, and only after I had felt the effects of its meaning first-hand.
When all is good, people support you. They celebrate you, stand by your side, revel in the achievements and accolades. But when the shit hits the fan, they scatter like flies. They don’t stick around for the murky waters, leaving you alone – exposed on a display you never asked for. It’s disconcerting to say the least.
Interestingly, the same can be said for being a mother, and even more so, a single mother. There’s the congratulations when you announce the pregnancy, the streams of well-wishers, baby cuddlers and presents when they’re born, and then the very quiet, yet loud, nights when it’s just you and the bub… feeding and settling into the wee hours.
The joy of birthday parties and too many presents, adjacent to the screaming toddler tantrums in public when people walk the other way or, worse, look on with judgement and contempt. The tears of joy and sadness when they start school, and the emptiness it leaves behind where it once was beautifully chaotic and loud. The time when you realise you’re no longer required to make school lunches… even though you don’t know exactly when it stopped.
Then comes the school leaving, the independence, the shift to the bottom of the priority list… not being needed the same way… until the shit hits the fan, and you’re the last man (woman) standing, required to pull it all back together.
Dads feel it too, of course - but the expectations placed on mothers hit differently. A ‘hands-on’ Dad is praised for… well, parenting. When a Mum is expected to, thanklessly. We give our heart, soul and bodies for our children, and wouldn’t have it any other way. But the command of motherhood is a lonely one at times - especially in the tough times. The quiet times that scream the loudest – the ones no one else ever sees.
And the criticism is rife. She breastfed her kids; she didn’t breastfeed. She sent her kids to daycare to go back to work; she stays home with the kids and doesn’t work. She lets her kids watch TV; she doesn’t let her kids watch TV. We can’t get it ‘right’ no matter what we do. And the worst judgment? It’s from ourselves… other mothers and, even worse, our inner critic.
I call bullshit.
Is it ok to celebrate the milestones and joyous moments, but not the tough ones where bravery is required? No. It isn’t. In fact, shouldn’t we be calling out the brave moments more? Because that’s when the true essence of ourselves is on show. Full, unforgiving show.
In Australia our ‘Tall Poppy Syndrome’ is alive and strong. We celebrate you, until you get there, and then we criticise you. “Work hard, you’ll make it and go far.” “Oh, hang on… you’ve gone too far.” We do this in life, and in motherhood… the exact moment where standing tall is not ok. Where blending in is considered the acceptable route. We are even sold different versions of the same thing – all designed to help us blend in. Because when we stand tall, we do it alone… on that same lonely display, that we never asked for.
Times are slowly shifting, and we’re starting to recognise and applaud women, and mothers, for the tireless effort they continuously put in. But the focus needs to really be on those lonely brave moments, when supporters are nowhere to be seen. Actually, these are the moments we need to be our own goddamn cheerleaders and best supporters, because not only will that get us through these times, but it also helps us shine our lights bright, which in turn, attracts more supporters. It’s an oxymoron, yes. But it’s the sovereign truth.
The Company of Her exists to support women, like you and me to be our own goddamn cheerleaders. To choreograph the cheerleading dance, if you will! We’re here for the messy, the tender, the quiet nights, the moments when your voice feels small. If you feel called to explore how we can support you, please get in touch. We’d love to hold space for you.
With love and goddess light
Nat 🤍