Promoting a parenting book whilst failing at motherhood
What I’ve learnt in the last two weeks of white-knuckling parenting (whilst PRing my parenting bestseller.) 😅
I was going to put quotation marks around the word “failing” in this title …
But I didn’t. Because, when you feel like you’re failing as a parent, it does feel factual — a one-ton truth that you cannot ignore.
For the last couple of weeks I’ve felt it — starting as a whisper and growing into a roar.
During a two-hour television interview when I talked about modern parenting.
During multiple podcast episodes to promote my book.
As I gifted Wise Child to a handful of friends who are excited to read it.
And all I could think was one inner “truth”: I’m promoting a parenting book whilst failing at motherhood.
*clenches teeth, thinks about deleting article*
I’m extremely familiar with this feeling in my body — when I’m holding a negative narrative that I need to heal through writing it and sharing it publicly.
As one of my beautiful teachers says, ‘What isn’t made sacred is made shameful.’
So, instead of pretending to not have these feeling, I’m going for the signature Amy Molloy approach of '“outing” them — and myself.
Here’s what I’ve learnt in the last two weeks of white-knuckling parenting (whilst PRing my parenting bestseller.)
#1. My narrative loops are strong.
No-one can get stuck in a narrative loop like a writer! Irrational thought? Not only do I entertain it: I write a poem, an article and a screenplay about it in my head before 6am.
For the last two weeks, my narratives have included: “I’m failing at parenting. I’m letting everyone down. I used to be better than this.”
Do I believe all this? Of course not… not literally. But my brain is a creative powerhouse — and it knows how to convince me.
#2 It’s easy to talk someone else out of it.
There is always a point when writing or promoting a book when you feel like a jack-arse of an imposter. I’m used to coaching my writers through it with compassion and a kick-arse pep talk. (“This is why you’re the expert that people need — one who is fallible and relatable.”)
But it’s a harder pill for your ego when you’re talking about yourself. Journalling helps, as does chatting to a brilliant girlfriend. (Preferably one whose kids are older than yours, and has some perspective.)
#3 Come back to your own words. (Cringe… but true.)
When I have imposter syndrome, I want to do anything but read my own words. But the good thing about writing as an investigative journalist is, the best advice in the book isn’t mine. It’s the 100+ experts and healers around the world, I sourced during my research.
So what would they want me to know right now?
This “shadow” is coming up so you can clear it.
You’re the perfect parent for your children — that’s why they chose you.
Stop comparing: let the essence of who you are shine through.
There’s a great relief when you realise, parents don’t need all the answers — and kids know far more than we think they do.
#4 This feeling — this right here – is why I wrote the book in the first place.
In the past week, I’ve tried to ‘cure’ my angst with a lot of practical, 5-step parenting approaches. (“5 ways to stop sibling arguments etc.”) But that’s not what I need right now. Instead, I’m craving content that connects to my soul and reminds me, This is why you’re here… this is why it’s okay to do things your own way.
Yesterday, I listened to a beautiful webinar on the ‘return of the solar mother’ by the mystic Sarah Jane Perman — and it lit me up. (And made me want to buy gold wallpaper for our new bedroom.)
When I feel overwhelmed — or like an “outsider” in this world — I can quickly turn away from my spiritual tools, but it’s always the best time to tune in.
💫 And that’s why I wrote Wise Child in the first place…
The truth? I know I’m not failing as a mother — but it can sure feel like that sometimes. It’s seasonal but these seasons can be brutal.
The last time I felt this way? Three years ago when I pitched a spiritual parenting book to Hay House — so it’s perfect in a way this shadow version of me should return to say hello as I promote it.
Which leads me to my final point …
“Nothing is for nothing.”
On a mountain hike with my kids this week, we had to turn around before getting to the peak. My 7-year-old was upset, we didn’t make it but I told him:
“Nothing is for nothing.”
On the way home, we found an off-shoot trail and ended up bush-bashing to an incredible lookout.
“You were right, mama,” he said. “Nothing is for nothing.”
The same is true for how I feel right now — and however you feel. Nothing is for nothing. Trust it, learn from it, and also let yourself be more.
*From a parenting author who doesn’t have all the answers, but promises to write shameful sacred truths — for all of us.
Amy x