The Invisible Battle No One Sees
Some posts are easier to write than others.
It’s strangely easier to talk about trauma, diagnoses, hospital stays, and legal battles than it is to talk about this: The thoughts I think about myself as a mom.
From the outside, a mom can look “fine.” The kids are fed. The house is standing. You show up at work, at church, at school events. You smile when you’re supposed to. You say, “We’re hanging in there,” when people ask how you’re doing. But inside?
Inside can feel like a war zone.
Not just against circumstances, but against the thoughts you think about yourself as a mom; the quiet, relentless lies that have played on repeat in your mind for years.
This post isn’t about doctors, courts, or crisis centers. It’s about the invisible battlefield in my own mind—the lies I’ve believed, the shame I’ve carried, and the way God is slowly replacing those lies with truth.
Proverbs 28:13 says, “Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”
I’ve spent a lot of time concealing, not just my sin, but my self-hatred, my guilt, my belief that I’m failing at the one job I care about most. This is me choosing to confess, not for the sake of oversharing, but so mercy can do its work.
2 Corinthians 10:5 says, “We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”
That’s what this post is about: Taking toxic mom thoughts captive, and letting God’s truth rewrite the story.
When the Pressure Boils Over
There are days when motherhood feels like walking on a tightrope with a heavy backpack. Someone spills something. Someone doesn’t listen. Someone leaves another mess. On a good day, I can shrug and move on. On a hard day, those tiny things pile up until I explode.
My voice gets sharp. My volume goes up. My patience disappears.
I don’t usually throw insults, but I do throw tone. And tone can cut just as deeply.
Afterward, when the house is quiet again, the guilt creeps in:
“You’re a horrible mom.”
“They’re going to remember this forever.”
“You ruined everything today.”
Some days, the battle starts before my feet hit the floor. There’s no big trigger, no obvious crisis. Just a heaviness. A short fuse. A sense that everything is too much. My bipolar disorder means my emotional baseline isn’t always steady, and some mornings I wake up already scraping the bottom. On those days, I try to protect my kids from my mood.
Other days, it isn’t anger, it’s sadness. The kind of sadness you can’t pin to one event. The world just feels heavier. My energy is gone before the day starts. The lie that slithers in is simple and devastating:
“You’re too broken to be a good mom.”
That’s where the lies begin.
Lie #1: “I’m a horrible mom.”
Sometimes this lie hits hardest after I lose my temper. I snap. My tone is sharp. I yell instead of staying calm. I see the look on my kids’ faces, the hurt, the confusion, and immediately think:
“I’m a horrible mom. They deserve better than me.”
Maybe you’ve been there too; replay after replay in your head of what you said or how you said it.
James 1:19–20 says, “Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.”
When I read that, my first instinct is shame: See? You failed again.
But conviction and condemnation are not the same thing.
- Conviction says, “That wasn’t right. Let’s make it right.”
- Condemnation says, “You are the problem. There’s no hope for you.”
God convicts. The enemy condemns. I’ve believed the condemnation for far too long.
Truth: I have made mistakes as a mom, but in Christ, I am not beyond repair and neither are my kids.
Lie #2: “My kids would be better off without me.”
This lie likes to whisper when I feel overwhelmed by my mental health. On the days when my bipolar disorder flares, when my mood is low or my irritability is high, when the laundry baskets are overflowing and dinner is thrown together from whatever we can find, it’s easy to think:
“If they had a different mom, things would be easier.”
“They deserve someone more stable, more patient, more put-together.”
Maybe you’ve had similar thoughts with different words.
Psalm 139:14 says, “I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”
Most days, my soul does not “know that very well.” But God’s Word doesn’t change based on my feelings. He knew my wiring, my challenges, my diagnosis, my limitations, and still chose me to be their mom.
The truth is:
- My kids don’t need a flawless mom.
- They need a mom who keeps showing up.
- They need a mom who is willing to grow, apologize, learn, and try again.
Truth: God gave my kids the mom they need, and that mom is me.
Lie #3: “A good mom would have it all together.”
This lie shows up in the ordinary:
- The overflowing laundry baskets
- The “find whatever you can” dinners
- The cluttered counters
- The nights we don’t read the Bible together
- The mornings my son gets prepackaged everything instead of a cute, homemade lunch
I picture the ideal mom in my head, the one who bakes for fun, keeps the house spotless, thrives on routines, and doesn’t have a brain that gets hijacked by bipolar disorder and ADHD, and I come up short every time.
Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.”
The “good works” God prepared for me in this season do not require a spotless house or a perfect schedule. Sometimes they look like:
- choosing to sit with a crying child instead of doing the dishes,
- ordering pizza so I don’t snap at everyone,
- taking my meds and going to bed early,
- whispering a prayer when I don’t have energy for a full Bible study.
Truth: A “good mom” is not a perfect mom. A good mom is a faithful mom who keeps showing up, even in weakness.
Lie #4: “Because of my past, I’m disqualified.”
This lie reaches backward. Before I understood my bipolar disorder, my life was full of risky behavior and choices that didn’t line up with the woman I wanted to be; spending we couldn’t afford, relationships that crossed lines, patterns that hurt my marriages and my kids. I’ve repented, sought forgiveness, and worked to rebuild trust. My past is not who I am-it’s where God met me.
Even now, with a diagnosis and good treatment, it’s easy to look back and think:
“If they knew everything, they’d turn away.”
“I don’t deserve this husband, this family, this second chance.”
But the gospel is not about what I deserve. It’s about what Christ has done.
That means:
- My past sin is paid for.
- My diagnosis is understood by God.
- My story is redeemed, not erased.
John 3:17 says, "For God did not send his Son into the world to condem the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."
The enemy uses my past to accuse me. Jesus uses my past to equip me. My weaknesses, my diagnosis, my impulsivity, and my history are not reasons God can’t work. They’re evidence of where He already has.
Truth: My family is not a prize I earned. They’re a gift of grace, and God’s grace doesn’t come with an expiration date.
Lie #5: “God is disappointed in me.”
This one is sneaky and spiritual-sounding. It creeps in especially when I write things like this; when I’m honest about my struggles, my diagnosis, my anger, my mess. It sounds like:
“God must be tired of you by now.”
“You’re always falling short.”
“You should be further along.”
1 John 3:1 says, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him.”
Children. Not employees. Not projects. Not disappointments.
When God looks at me, He doesn’t see “the mom who doesn’t measure up.” He sees His daughter, covered in Christ’s righteousness, learning to walk, stumbling, and getting back up with His hand in mine.
Truth: God is not rolling His eyes at me; He is walking with me.
Learning to Reach Out Before I Break
For years, I tried to manage my emotions alone. I’d keep everything inside until it boiled over, yelling, crying, shutting down, and my husband and kids would get the overflow of what I’d refused to process. Now, I’m learning to speak up sooner.
I’ll tell my husband, “My brain is in a bad place today,” or “I’m on edge, and I don’t want to take it out on the kids.” He’s learned to recognize the signs, too. He steps in, steps up, and sometimes just pulls me into a hug long enough to let the pressure ease.
Galatians 6:2 says, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.”
Part of breaking free from toxic mom thoughts has been letting someone else carry them with me; letting my husband, my support system, and ultimately Jesus into the places that were kept locked up.
What God Says About Me (Even When I Don’t Believe It)
On the days when the lies are loud, I’m learning to go back to what God actually says:
- “You are fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14)
- Even when I feel broken and exhausted
- “There is no condemnation for you in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)
- Even when I replay my failures on a loop.
- “My grace is sufficient for you; My power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
- Even when my weakness feels like too much
- “You are My workmanship.” (Ephesians 2:10)
- Even when the work in progress feels slow
- “You are My child.” (1 John 3:1)
- Even when I feel like I’ve blown it as a parent.
The lies say: failure, unfit, too broken.
God says: loved, chosen, Mine.
Where I Am Now
I still have days when:
- I lose my temper
- I feel like a failure
- I want to run away from all responsibilities
- I question whether I’m doing anything right
But I’m learning to notice the lies sooner. To pause and ask, “Is this what God says about me?” To swap the old soundtrack for a new one rooted in Scripture.
I still struggle with bipolar disorder. I still need medication, margins, coping tools, and a husband who knows how to support me. But now, instead of letting the lies narrate my motherhood, I’m slowly letting God’s truth do the talking.
To the Mom Who Feels Like She’s Losing the Mental Battle
If you’re reading this and your mind feels like a courtroom where you are always on trial and always guilty, hear me:
You are not the sum of your worst moments.
You are not the scoreboard of your undone tasks.
You are not the lies you’ve believed about yourself.
You are:
- Fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14)
- Not condemned in Christ (Romans 8:1)
- God’s workmanship (Ephesians 2:10)
- His beloved child (1 John 3:1)
You don’t have to clean up your mind before you come to God. You come to God with your thoughts and let Him renew them.
If you’ve ever laid in bed and thought:
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“My kids deserve someone better.”
“I’m ruining everything.”
I want you to know:
You are not alone in those thoughts. You are not a bad mom for having them. You are a human mom in a spiritual and emotional battle. You may need help, counseling, medication, support groups, and honest conversations. You may need to confess, apologize, and repair. But you are not beyond hope.
The same God who met me in diagnosis rooms, hospital corridors, and court hearings is the God who meets me in my kitchen after a bad day, whispering truth over the lies, inviting me to get back up and try again.
And He’ll meet you there too.
Reflection Questions
- Which lie in this post sounds most like the one you hear in your own mind?
- Where do you think that lie started: comparison, your upbringing, past hurt, spiritual attack?
- Which verse from this post speaks most directly against that lie?
- What is one small way you can practice “taking that thought captive” this week?
A Prayer for the Mom Wrestling with Toxic Thoughts
Father, You see the war in my mind, the accusations, the comparisons, the shame. Thank You that Your Word is stronger than the lies, and that there is no condemnation for me in Christ Jesus. Help me recognize the thoughts that don’t come from You. Teach me to take them captive and replace them with Your truth. Give me courage to ask for help when I’m overwhelmed, and humility to apologize when I fall short. Remind me that I am Your workmanship, Your child, and that You chose me to be these children’s mother on purpose. Use even my weaknesses to show them Your grace. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
This is the fifth post in the “From The Trenches” series—a raw, unfiltered look at faith, failure, and finding hope in the valley. If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear your story. You can comment below or reach out privately at danece@momleavesalegacy.com. You’re not alone in this fight. 🩷🩵