Is it better to feel guilt or resentment?

On the wanting of both career and motherhood at the same time.

Recently, marieclaire.com published an interview with Dorsey founder,

Megan Alida Strachan

. The series chats with business owners, and as the title suggests, it looks at The Cost of Starting a Business. While I enjoy reading about women running multi-million dollar businesses, it is nothing new anymore. But what is, are the uncomfortable truths that Megan spilled that make this interview memorable? Instead of glazing over answers and using words like "juggle" or vague phrases such as "striving for balance" and "making it work", she went straight for the juggler, well, the heart when she responded to a question on the personal costs of running an uber-successful company; "Starting and running a company takes an unspoken toll on your life. I call it a tab that comes due, and the tax on it is very high. There are a lot of personal sacrifices. You have to be ruthless with your priorities. You miss a lot of things—that's the truth. I missed the first four years of my daughter's life. I missed all of preschool. Even if I was physically there, I wasn't mentally there. I basically put my head down, ran Dorsey for the last four years, and when I looked up, my daughter was five."

I am by no means running a global company, but Strachan's words hit. They hit because I understand the guilt of distraction and feeling like the priority is sending that email, writing that paragraph before I forget it, and only to look up and say, "Well done Freddie!" when I've barely been paying attention. She is right. And she is right about two things: she can never get back that time with her daughter. We can never get back that time with our kids (unless of course, your business is in time travel?). And that you have to be ruthless with your priorities to start, run and continually grow a business to become profitable. No one really asks this question. We tip-toe around it and often ask frivolous questions about making it work because the heaviness of such an answer is unpalatable for most or, probably more to the point, bad for PR. We expect the answer to be more about distraction strategies, working through the night or naptime, handing out iPads, hiring nannies, or relying on the rare beast, the stay-at-home father.

Erin Deering, co-founder of Triangl Swimwear (also a very successful, fast-growing multi-million dollar company), said something similar to me in an interview when I asked if she had advice for mothers who wanted to start something of their own. She said, "If I may be brutal, starting a business and really driving it – is a huge undertaking. It rarely can be done without complete dedication, focus and effort. It's all-consuming. It's been done and can be done, but it's bloody tough." We desperately want it to be possible to build and run a booming business – only in the allocated time slots when our kids do not need us. But in reality, for many reasons, this is an impossible task. So perhaps it's not that the question of personal costs is not asked; it is that the raw and visceral answer is rarely given.

When my son was six months old, Covid and the lockdowns hit. Also, my husband felt it was time for him to quit his stable, well-paying job of 17 years and start something of his own. We put all of our savings into starting his business, and thankfully, it has been a successful venture. I never returned to my career as I had planned. Instead, I helped him launch his business and take care of all the copywriting and creative, allowing us the flexibility to work and raise our son. We agreed that I still needed to write on the side - for my sanity, for my autonomy and to feed my creativity. I freelanced until it became too hard to juggle (yes, like the clown that I was). However, I had to eventually give up freelancing as my plate was perpetually full. With his agency proliferating, a child who was not yet in daycare (and who quite literally repelled sleep), and the never-ending lockdowns – it all became too much. Mentally and physically, I could not cope. So, I stopped for my sake and my family's. This broke a piece of me, and that piece is still something I am trying to repair.

To fill the void, I casually started Dear Dilate as an Instagram account, sharing stories of how others were surviving in lockdown, then formed a newsletter with more in-depth tales of motherhood, and now, this very Substack. I spend a lot of mum-time distracted with ideas on what to write, what I want to share and who would be a great person to interview, posting on social, and replying to emails and DMs. No matter how casual you think you can be with creating and cultivating something you genuinely care about, you can not switch it off. I've had so many times where I have been frustrated by my responsibilities of being a mum. I am irritated by working in a job that doesn't set my soul on fire but ensures we can pay the mortgage and have a nice life, for which I am grateful. I have helped my husband build his definition of a dream career, and though I feel so happy for him and proud of what he has built, this is still his dream, his business, and not mine. I am self-aware enough to know, I sound every bit whiney and privileged writing this, but I suspect I am not the only woman or mother to press ctrl+alt+delete on her career for the sake of the family unit.

When I asked our Instagram community whether you would choose guilt or resentment, 64% said guilt. Sarah explained that the two feelings are linked; for her, she had no choice about returning to work. She said, "Despite being very career driven pre-children, I now find myself resenting the fact that I had no choice but to go back to work. Financially, it was a necessity, and now I have both resentment of having to return to work AND deal with the guilt of not being able to spend more time with my daughter. Worst of both worlds it feels like." Relatable for most as the cost of living continues to rise and now 61% of Australian two-parent households are dual-income. As is what Emrys Cousins adds, "Sometimes I wish I was satisfied and happy and could thrive being a stay-at-home mum. But I couldn't. And I feel sad about that more so than guilty because I feel like it's my loss not theirs." 

It may be resentment or remorse that I was feeling. Either way, there are some uneasy feelings that I find myself reckoning with. Am I jealous that my husband has his dream job? Presumably. He has a wife who has supported him every step of the way, and here I am, staying up all hours writing to you, doing what I know is my dream job, on the side of a well-paid job and being the primary parent. I am envious that he gets to dedicate his time to his work and that I can devote only the scraps to mine. I have been on and off with writing this Substack, not feeling as though I can go all in as my husband did, and that is more than likely the root of my resentment. But is not 'him' the person. He is not the villain. It is myself that I am most annoyed with for allowing myself to feel as though my happiness does not come first (patriarchy runs deep, does it not?). When it comes down to it, he cannot make me put it all on black for me; only I can. So why have I not? What if Strachan had not? Would her guilt for not being there for her daughter be replaced with feelings of resentment? Perhaps. Though I can not answer that for her. For obvious reasons, financial stability in a cost-of-living crisis has probably made up the most considerable portion of my decision. Feminist writer and author, Amanda Montei captures my thoughts in this quote from her widely popular essay, Becoming an Art Monster in a Pandemic; "The male genius is supposed to be selfish, or to "put himself first" in modern wellness terms. He cares for no one but the muse, who is supposed to be, I guess, part of himself. But we tend to see motherhood, done right, as unselfish, because the work is taking care of other people. The institution of American motherhood further ensures that mothering is understood as inherently self-sacrificial, self-effacing, a holy martyrdom." 

It would be nice to avoid the awful feelings of guilt and resentment and whatever else we feel when fitting in something purely for ourselves but I often wonder if it is possible? I certainly have not reached enlightenment but some of the DD community have. Lisa Anderson said, "I do sometimes feel guilty but someone told me really early on to think about the type of mum I want to be and how to be the best version of being a mum and what that looks like. I love working and I am a better mum for it. I feel it's working out what makes you feel guilty and then finding a solution to it." Roisin Kim added, "You need to believe that your happiness benefits your children and makes you a better mum." Rebecca Pritchard stated, "I'm confident in the amount and quality time I spend with my kids, plus the value that they get from the time away from me." 

What the above responses tell me is that feeling it all only makes you human. Still, it takes work to become comfortable with some guilt because it is unattainable to be everything to everyone, be everywhere and do everything, and do it all artfully, gracefully and flawlessly – and all at the same time. But one thing is certain: our kids want us to be happy. They want to see us smile, get excited, and enjoy being around them. They don't want a watered-down mother or a resentful one who is one eye-roll away from being kicked out of rhyme-time. So, what would you choose: a life with some guilt of missing moments in motherhood or a lifetime of resentment for not pursuing a career or a venture that fills a hole no one or nothing can fill except you?

If I can leave you with a final thought, it is you are allowed to step back but do not to give up – no matter how many baby steps it takes. Get inspired, listen to podcasts, get all of your ducks in a row then once the heaviness of early motherhood starts to shift, go all in. Also, communicate with your partner how you are feeling and ask for their help – with time and space and to promise to push you when you need it (and you will). Tell them your dreams, no matter how silly or farfetched they sound. I did. And now the only regret I have is that I didn’t tell him sooner.

Jade x