It’s no secret around here that I struggle with self esteem issues. I have for 38 years. I’ve made some remarkable strides in dealing with those. Life’s circumstances have me facing the world on my own, and a new-found self confidence has been emerging.

However, it’s fragile. Tentative. Which almost seems like an oxymoron, but that’s what happens when you feel inadequate and just LESS than for your entire life. Changes don’t happen overnight and for someone who struggled for so long, it’s not hard to experience something that will knock me back a step.

I’ve been learning how to accept help. I’ve been learning how to take a compliment gracefully. I’ve been learning that who I am is ok, even great at times, and lousy at others. I’ve learned that it’s ok to fail, and to not try to appear perfect.

Today I feel like I just took a leap backward.

A simple comment on a Facebook post. The implication that my daughter’s father is her primary caregiver. The implication that the child doesn’t even HAVE a mother. I wanted to yell, scream and shout at this woman. “SHE HAS A MOTHER! AN INVOLVED MOTHER! A mother who sings her baby girl to sleep every night. A mother who takes her on shopping trips and to the playground. A mother who worries over her, watches her play. A mother who helps her learn things and then stands back to watch her attempt them on her own. A mother who prepares her meals and gives her her allergy meds every morning.

I know it’s not this woman’s fault. Somehow, it’s what she was led to believe.

I don’t have to justify myself to her. Or to anyone. I know what kind of mother I am. I’m a really good mother.

As usual, I have my friends to thank for helping me put it all into perspective.   I love that they will tell me when I’m freaking out over nothing.

Thank you for reminding me that what anyone else thinks does not matter.