#soloparent

So I'm a solo parent to a gorgeous girl who is 9.5 going on 16. I swear, the tantrums and diva like behaviours has gotta be coz of hormones? If not, then I'm in a world of trouble when they do hit.

I burnt my hands the other day and doing everything alone the last couple of days has kinda sucked. I've had offers of help but asking someone to come wash the dishes or stop the washing machine from an uneven load seems a bit pointless.

Sa dami ng batas na layuning protektahan ang kababaihan at ang mga bata, bakit may mga pagkakataong ang hustisya ay tila hindi pa rin ganap na nararamdaman?

Hindi ko binabalewala ang hirap na pinagdaraanan ng sinuman, pero bakit ang ‘nagbibigay ako kahit paano’ ay nagiging dahilan upang iwasan ang tuloy-tuloy na responsibilidad sa anak?

These last few years have kicked my ass so damn hard I cannot believe I have repeatedly gotten back up!

That was until a little over a month ago when body finally declared she was done and I have been on enforced bed rest for weeks!

In September 2006 I left my hometown in the North East of Scotland headed to Yorkshire to study for my second undergraduate degree - at the time my sister-in-love was living out her final days. A little over a month later she was gone … We were both just 28 years young!

A year or two later a member of the worship band at the church I attended was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder and died soon after.

One of the pastoral care staff members at the private college I was living/studying at died suddenly after a routine operation.

Not knowing what to do with all this grief, I stuffed it all deep inside and tried to push through.

In June 2008, the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year of my BA (Hons) programme I met the guy I would marry and have children with - days later I broke my hand (first ever bone break at 30!) those who know me will know how intense that time and indeed that relationship was. He lived on a different continent. We married in September 2010 and had our first child 9 months later. Followed by 2 more children in slightly less than 3 years.

Life was intense.

In March 2017 I embarked upon my journey towards being a Doula - I thought I found my life’s calling. 3 years later Corona brought that path to a screeching halt. I didn’t know it then but that would be the end of that. Although I would never say never.

Sometime in 2019 I made the decision to put my then home educated kids in school. March 2020 they were sent home and I felt like my life was thrust backwards. And so I did what any struggling person would do - looked for an out! We put our family home on the market and less than a month later (during lockdown!) we had sold it - 4 months later we threw what fit of our belongings into the back of a van, loaded 3 kids (under 10) and our 6 month old puppy into our 5 seater car and drove 3 days across 4 countries to begin a new life in rural Northern Sweden.

Yep, crazy is my middle name.

We spent 3 month living in an Airbnb whilst looking for our own home. Our kids went from walking 5 minutes to school to 40 minutes drive in a taxi with a stranger who spoke a different language.

Just as winter was settling in we moved an hours drive from our Airbnb into our own home. Let the dream life commence …. Life was not at all how I had imagined it to be, although surrounded by neighbours in a beautiful village (think hamlet) we were 40 minutes round trip from the nearest town. Which was fine whilst I could drive - hell when I could not.

I went from being a middle sibling of 7 and a churchgoer of 41 years i.e surrounded by people, to being seriously isolated. Between the location, language barrier and my lack of Swedish drivers license.

My dad was given a terminal diagnosis in April/May of 2021 - We hadn’t seen him since July 2020 and never did see him again. He died in March 2022.

In November 2022 I found myself rather randomly attending a retreat for chiropractors in a beautiful bed and breakfast about an hour away from our home - that weekend would change the trajectory of my life, again. About a week later I told my husband of 12 years that our marriage was over (it had been for a very long time, I was no longer prepared to try). We Co-habited for 13 months before I was finally able to move out.

In May 2023 my mum had a heart attack - she survived. I didn’t ave the means to travel back to visit.

In October 2023 after a full 3.5 years unemployment I finally got a job, together with moving into my apartment in January 2024 - I was rebuilding my life. In June 2024 I was able to fly my kids back to the UK for their first visit in 4 whole years! (I had travelled alone when my dad died).

When we returned to Sweden 3 weeks later it was evident my eldest child (then 13) wasn’t doing well and I told me ex that we needed to start planning our return to the UK. About a month later my mums sister died suddenly - the news proved too much for my 13yo and within 3 weeks she had lost the will to live … she and I left Sweden in an attempt to help her find joy once more and reconnect with family.

Unemployed and homeless, life was far from easy. Not to mention the fact our family was now split across two countries. Oh and we were literally in the middle of divorce proceedings.

Honestly I’m not ready to talk about how life unfolded throughout 2025 but as I stated at the beginning of this story time, it ended with my body refusing to do more than shuffle around my apartment. My ex arrived late November to spend time with the kids on his birthday, he had to assume all parental responsibility - I had solo parented for most of the year. They will have been in Sweden a little over 3 weeks by the time they get back.

I have great faith that life in 2026 is going to be amazing, I know that my dreams are coming true and I am excited to share them as and when they do.

For now I am still processing what has been in preparation for what is to come.

May it be that even one person feels seen by what I have shared here today.

Being human in the 2020s is Next Level.

Connection to/with something higher than ourselves seems to be the only thing that makes anything beyond survival possible.

Here’s to living an abundant life filled with so much love and joy built on the foundations of every difficult moment.

Love and Light

Hi, I'm Mae — at least that's the name I’m writing under as I begin this next chapter. I’m a forty-something, undiagnosed neurodivergent, queer solo parent of three (also undiagnosed ND) kids. I’m an ex-evangelical, a recovering emotional eater trying to write instead of snack, and a Manifesting Generator who's technically unemployed but spiritually self-employed — once I find my missing mojo that is! As the old saying goes: “Jack of all trades, master of none — though oftentimes better than a master of one.” Honestly, that forgotten ending feels like the perfect unofficial motto for a Man Gen.

I don’t smoke, drink, or take any kind of drugs. Actually, food has long been my “drug” of choice — a common reality for many Christians. I used to drink, though; my body started rejecting alcohol around the time I had my firstborn. Make of that what you will, or not. Come to think of it, I don’t do much of anything that might be associated with experiencing pleasure — the kinds of pleasures our culture trains us to chase: cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, food, sex. Something I’m slowly learning to unpick and work on in my own way.

I conceived my first child on my honeymoon 15 years ago — my initiation into mothering, the start of my unlearning journey. Back then, I was a 30-something “virgin,” stuck in a heteronormative script where sex meant nothing but penile penetration and purity rings: all rules, zero curiosity, and absolutely no permission to imagine what I might actually want. Heck, I didn’t even realise that what others suggested didn’t have to be what I wanted!

Looking back now, it’s wild to see that I was queer the whole time, albeit this part of me is still very new — so new that after my first heartbreak this past summer, I tucked it away for “later,” even though I know that’s just an old pattern trying to keep me safe. It’s absurd, familiar, and something else I’m unlearning one layer at a time. Purity culture had taught me desire was dangerous, and queer women barely existed in my faith community. Same-sex attraction? Unthinkable — second only to using God’s name in vain! Back then, I didn’t even know I could imagine being anything other than straight, let alone explore who I actually was. Truthfully? I didn’t know who I was. I still didn’t really know — and that’s a reality that has only hit me full force this year!

In December 2018, exactly one week after turning 41, I finally walked away from organised religion. It wasn’t a sudden decision — more like the final step in a slow unraveling that had begun before I graduated Bible College in 2009. I’d learned enough by then to see the gaping holes in the Christianity I’d been raised in, but it had been my entire world. I knew I didn’t want my children growing up with the same narrative, but I also knew walking away would be one of the hardest things I’d ever do. Looking back now, I can see how my unconscious Sagittarius energy played into it all — the push–pull between freedom and belonging, truth and loyalty. My sun, moon, rising, and Venus placements are all in Sagittarius (I sometimes joke that I’m as Sag as Sagittarius itself), which means I’m wired for expansion, questioning, and the kind of truth-telling that often blows up the life you were taught to protect.

Since walking away from God and Jesus in 2018, I’ve come full circle in my own way — though I struggle to label it. I do believe in a higher power, and for now, I call it Divine Source Energy. The key difference (and the Bible itself hints at this) is that we are that energy — it is us, flowing through us, not something distant or separate. And, regardless of your views on an historical Jesus, I think we can all agree he was not a white European — his more culturally accurate name is Yeshua. He was a person of colour, and he was not, and never was, the “one and only Son of the One True God.” If (and that would be a BIG IF) he held to any world religion, it most likely would have been Judiasm rather than Christianity. If you’re curious, check out The Freedom Transmissions channeled by Carissa Schumacher and hear for yourself what Source Energy might be.

But enough about queerness and spirituality for a moment — back to motherhood. Fast forward three and a half years after my honeymoon, and with three kids under three I felt like I was drowning. How could the life I’d longed for since childhood feel like a nightmare instead of the dream I’d been promised? It took me a while to understand what was happening. Motherhood didn’t diagnose me — but it did hold up a mirror I finally felt brave enough to look into. Through that mirror, the nagging suspicion I’d carried for years about autism suddenly made sense. And as I learned more about my eldest child, I began recognising the ADHD woven through my own profile too.

And the truth is, all of this — the queerness, the spirituality, the neurodivergence, the slow unwinding of who I was told to be — circles back to motherhood. Not the glossy, sacrificial, “good Christian woman” version I was conditioned to perform, but the real, raw, unravelled experience of raising three neurodivergent kids who basically hold up mirrors for a living. Parenting didn’t just make me a mother; it made me confront myself. It stripped away every illusion about who I thought I should be and forced me back into who I actually am. That’s what this first post is really about: how parenting has helped me reclaim me.

I’ve intentionally named this blog The Unlearning Mother because, for me, even the word “mother” sometimes feels off — it carries expectations I’ve spent years trying to loosen. Motherhood is a paradox: both the anchor that steadies me and the tide that pulls me under. I love it and resent it; it uplifts me and exhausts me.

But more than anything, becoming a parent cracked open a truth no one ever told me: so much of “parenting” is actually reparenting ourselves. Adult-me learning to show up for inner-child-me in all the ways she needed but never received — especially with an emotionally unavailable mum and a dad who was mostly away working. It’s the process of giving myself the safety, compassion, presence, and permission I never had growing up.

It turns out children really are our greatest teachers. They invite us into the present moment and into the work of unlearning the old patterns we inherited — healing the parts of ourselves that were never held. But we have to be tuned in enough to notice that invitation, and brave enough to accept it.

My experience has taught me that when I stop trying to shape my children into who I think they should be and instead make room for who they already are, something shifts — in them, and in me. I begin to meet the parts of myself I’d misplaced. It’s not a grand revelation, just a gradual remembering of something quietly true inside me.

That tension — guidance without control, love without losing self, learning without certainty — is the space I write from.

Thank You for being here – for witnessing a small part of my remembering.

With love,

A todos en algún momento de la vida nos toca enfrentar cambios.  Transformaciones que nos pueden provocar alegría o mucho dolor. 

A nivel personal puede ser  la perdida de pareja, trabajo, hogar ... en fin.  Sin embargo, puede que nos resistamos a recibir la ayuda que otros y hasta el gobierno puedan brindar porque no son exactamente lo que queremos, como lo queremos, dónde lo queremos.  No estoy diciendo que eso esté mal, todos podemos tener preferencias y creencias que nos guíen en nuestras decisiones. 

IVF Superhero