Emotional Independence: A Journey Back to the Self
Moms are women we can count on. They’re there through every stage of their children’s lives. They are married or single, working or stay-at-home, caregivers or providers, often juggling multiple roles at the same time. It’s easy to lose sight of who we are beyond these roles. Finding emotional independence in the midst of it all can feel like a distant idea, even an indulgence.
I remember one day, staring out the window after a call with one of my children, when I suddenly realized: I had spent most of my life emotionally entangled in my roles — daughter, wife, mother — without ever truly learning how to stand on my own. Since living with my parents, I moved in with my husband; then we had children. I had always been either leaning on someone or someone was leaning on me. I had been caught in a cycle of emotional dependence without even realizing it. That changed only when I consciously chose to claim my own emotional space.
When I was facilitating the Mom To Me Again support group for empty-nester moms, I saw just how many of us had slowly disconnected from who we were as women. Society rewards self-sacrifice in mothers. We grow up hearing that a good mom always puts her children first, that a good mom worries, that she doesn’t have time — or a right — to pursue her own desires or wellbeing. I remember my cousin once telling me, “I know I’m a bad mother, but I go to dance class twice a week.” She said it with a smile, but the guilt underneath was real. As if doing something purely for herself meant she was failing as a mom.
These beliefs are limiting. They reduce motherhood to self-abnegation, and in doing so, they keep us from developing emotional independence. But we are not the sum of what the world expects us to be. We are who we choose to become — starting from within.
Dorothy Canfield Fisher wrote, “A mother is not a person to lean on, but a person to make leaning unnecessary.” This truth struck a deep chord in me. It was the perfect entry point into something I had already been contemplating: if we are always emotionally leaning on someone, or being leaned on, we never learn to find balance within ourselves.
Yoga philosophy teaches us that the external world encompasses everything material, including our body, thoughts, emotions, relationships, surroundings, and roles. And because all of that is constantly changing, it is not a reliable foundation for happiness. When we define ourselves only by the role of “mother” and that role shifts or ends, we’re left unsure of who we are. But beneath the roles, we are something much deeper. We have the power to choose how we respond, how we feel, how we love, and how we show up. That is the Self — the part of us that no role can touch.
Too often, we confuse motherhood with martyrdom. And when we do, we unknowingly place emotional expectations on our children. We start living through them, needing their attention, seeking their emotional presence. We may feel hurt when they don’t call, or subtly guilt them into checking in. Without realizing it, we become emotionally dependent on the very people we raised to be independent.
But emotional independence frees not only us — it frees them. We stop making them responsible for our happiness. We become whole in ourselves, capable of offering love without strings.
The roles we’ve played — daughter, spouse, mother, sister, friend — have helped shape us, yes. But they do not define us. I am the woman I am today because of all those experiences, and yet, I am more than the sum of them. Who I am cannot be contained by any one title.
As I listened to other mothers navigating the empty-nest phase, I understood even more how vital emotional independence is. It allows us to be fully present in our children’s lives without making them our anchor. It’s a shift from being someone they lean on, to being someone who trusts them to stand tall — and trusts herself to do the same.
I know what it feels like to be on the other side. I watched my own mother’s sadness when we left home. I felt her unspoken disappointment when I couldn’t visit often. I carried the guilt and the pain of not filling the space she had created in her life for me. That pain taught me something: We can’t be responsible for others’ happiness, as others can’t be responsible for our own happiness.
It’s never too late to break old patterns. To return to ourselves, as women. Reclaiming our emotional wholeness isn’t easy. It takes honesty, grief, and courage. But like the phoenix, we rise again.
The beauty of emotional independence is this: when we no longer lean on our children — and they no longer lean on us — a new kind of relationship is born. One of mutual respect, joy, and love. A love that flows from the heart, not from obligation.
Where to start the journey? I have some prompt suggestions below.
Who am I beyond the roles I play — mother, partner, daughter, friend?
When did I feel emotionally fulfilled without depending on someone else?
In what ways have I silenced my desires or postponed my joy?
What beliefs about being a “good mother” might I be ready to let go of?
How might my relationship with my children shift if I felt whole and independent?
What small act of self-honoring can I take this week to reconnect with myself?