𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

Every year, like clockwork, social media dusts off the same greeting: “Happy Father’s Day to all the single moms out there!”

And every year, something in me winces.

Not because I don’t appreciate the effort. Not because the sentiment is wrong. But because... we get it. We already know how hard it is. We live it. Daily.

We don’t need reminders wrapped in hollow praises or performative empathy. We need money for bills. We need real connection. We need five minutes of silence, someone to rub our backs, someone who wants us—not just as caretakers, but as women. As people. We need a love that doesn’t look at us like a burden.

But those needs? They often get tucked away. Because priorities. Because the kids come first. Because healing doesn’t pay the rent.

And the hardest part isn’t even the juggling act—it’s that for some of us, this wasn’t the life we planned. Some didn’t choose motherhood; it was forced, or came from heartbreak, abandonment, even trauma. There was no dream nursery or baby shower. Just survival.

So when people say things like, “You have to love yourself first before someone else can love you,” I nod politely. But inside, I call BS.

Because the truth is—some of the deepest, truest love happens while you're still broken. There are people who show up not when you’re glowing, but when your light’s gone out. People who don’t need your perfection. Just your honesty.

And if you're lucky enough to meet someone who holds space for you at your lowest, who stays even when there’s no guarantee of better—that’s love.

I’m tired of the “be strong” narrative. Of acting okay when you’re not.

Be mad. Be heartbroken. Have that drink. Cry at midnight while washing dishes.

You’re not broken because you feel. You’re real.

And when people get tired of your grief, your process, your healing—they were never your people to begin with.

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

Because you can’t pour from an empty cup—and you don’t have to apologize for needing to be filled, too.