Mom at Home, Mom at Work

Mom at Home, Mom at Work – Where Does the Role of ‘Mom’ Begin and Does It Ever Really End? Or: On the Constant Need to Care for Everyone, Always and Everywhere.

It was just another ordinary day at the office when, a colleague mentioned he had a headache. As usual, I automatically offered at least three types of tea and two kinds of painkillers. That’s when another colleague, completely casually, asked:

“Hey Mima, what’s it like being a mom both at home and at work?”

At first, I laughed heartily. We have a close, friendly relationship and often joke about all kinds of things. But then, it hit me—like a bucket of ice water.

Wait… he’s absolutely right.

And no, it’s not funny or cute.

I’ve always been someone who takes care of others.

As an older sister, it’s been my lifelong duty to look after my younger sister—help her whenever and however I can, whether it’s possible or not. That’s what big sisters are for, right?

Then I became a mom, which naturally means putting my family, especially my child, first—because that’s the mom role, right?

My friends need me—Mima to the rescue!

My current job is helping people with software issues, and surprise, surprise—I’m great at it. Turns out I’m a natural at helping others.

At work, I have great colleagues and a solid relationship with pretty much everyone.

A coworker didn’t sleep well? “Hey, I have the perfect tea for that—want some?”

Someone’s got a headache? “Hey, I’ve got ibuprofen in my drawer—need one?”

A colleague’s feeling under the weather? “Brew some fresh ginger tea with lemon—it’ll make you feel better instantly!”

Not to mention my always-open door and ears for both work-related and personal problems. I often joke that I unofficially run a counseling office at work.

That’s just who I am—I genuinely enjoy being there for others. That’s my superpower.

Or so I thought.

Toby’s comment didn’t just make me smile—it felt like a compliment. Hey, I’m the one who takes care of people, and it shows!

But then I read Dr. Gabor Maté’s book “When the Body Says No”, and what I discovered hit hard: No, my need to help isn’t a superpower—it’s a barrier.

Putting others’ needs before my own isn’t a virtue—it’s a recipe for losing myself and a straight road to burnout and even autoimmune diseases…

Ouch.

I’m a chronic people-pleaser

It was a wake-up call. Dr. Maté gives countless examples, and I saw myself reflected in every one of them. Not just me—I saw my mom, my grandmother, and so many mothers I know.

He even writes that some people go so far in putting others first that their body no longer recognizes where they end and where others begin. Other people’s needs become their own.

I love that part of myself that selflessly helps others. Kindness and empathy are superpowers—more essential than ever. But even kindness needs boundaries—especially when it starts coming at the cost of your own needs.

I’m talking about all the “shoulds,” “oughts,” and “I’ll do it” moments. I know you know what I mean—we all do this.

There’s a big difference between giving someone the tools to solve a problem and constantly jumping in to save them. I do both.

Take parenting, for example.

Modern psychology, which I actively follow, teaches that we shouldn’t “save” our children by solving problems for them, but instead equip them with the skills to solve problems themselves.

Let’s say your kid is building something with Legos and just can’t get a piece to fit. You can see exactly what needs to be done—it just needs to be turned. The child gets frustrated and emotional.

Instead of grabbing the piece and fixing it, you say calmly:
“I see that’s frustrating. What do you think would happen if you tried turning it a different way?”

And boom—they try, they figure it out, and the piece clicks into place.

No one learns when we take over and impatiently say, “Here, let me.”

The same goes for adults—whether at home or at work.

So instead of immediately jumping in when a colleague says, “Hey, can you quickly help me?” (which usually means “right now, regardless of what you’re doing”), I now smile and say:

“Sorry, I have to finish what I’m working on right now, but I’d be happy to help once I’m done.”

And then, I help them find the solution—not by doing the task for them, but by guiding them.

Otherwise, you’ll drown in everyone else’s to-do list while your own suffers. And then what? You burn out. You get sick.

That’s why learning to set boundaries is crucial. Yes, be kind and helpful—but protect yourself first.

Dr. Maté’s book helped me realize this. And so did Mel Robbins’ book “The Let Them Theory”, which gave me practical tools to actually set those boundaries and simply let people… be.

Just let them.

Mom at Work

I’m the kind of person who hears a coworker mention she’s starving before lunch, and immediately runs over with a snack bar from my stash and says, “Here, this’ll hold you over.”

That’s sweet, I know. And it feels good to help. But where’s the line?

It’s one thing to offer help when asked. It’s another to push yourself in and “save” people unsolicited.

Yes, I’m a “super mom.”
But do I really have to be a super mom—to everyone, everywhere, all the time?

Painful truth? No, I don’t.

And I know it’ll be hard to stop running around like a madwoman, jumping in to help at every turn. But for my own sake—I need to.
Because I’m only Sofka’s mom.

And as Mel says—and she’s absolutely right—adults aren’t supposed to be rescued. That’s the whole point. Adults are supposed to be capable of helping themselves. And if they’re not, they can ask—but not expect someone to take over entirely.

Selfless Mothers Don’t Complain

In the Balkans, motherhood is so intertwined with self-sacrifice it’s practically automatic:

“Let mom do it.”

“I don’t need food, as long as you all eat.”

“I don’t want anything, just get what you like…”

This is so deeply rooted in us that we’d rather fall seriously ill than risk being labeled “selfish.”

And even then—we still won’t complain. Because we’re the ones who are supposed to serve and support. We’re moms.

My grandmother never complained. Not about her health or life circumstances. She was always there—for my grandfather, for us, for everyone. One day, she casually mentioned some stomach pain. Luckily, my dad took her to the doctor right away. Unfortunately, it was already too late. She passed away a few months later.

So now I wonder—what if she’d said “no” more often? What if she had taken care of herself, done “selfish” things just because they brought her joy? Would she still be here to see Sofka grow?

And then there’s my mom—who suffers from every imaginable allergy and a severe form of asthma. Now that I’m thinking about it, her worst asthma attacks always come during intense stress.

But she’s a mom. A strong woman. She doesn’t want to worry anyone.
Yet she worries for everyone—me, my dad, her mom, her sister, her friends, family, neighbors, coworkers…

Anyone who knows my mom will tell you she’s the kindest person they’ve ever met. Always ready to help. That’s why everyone always calls her—because they know she’ll come running.

She’s wonderful—to everyone but herself.
And her body is screaming that.

And I don’t blame her. I finally understand. She took on the caretaker role too young and left herself behind.

Because she’s also a mom—at home, at work, in friendships, in the family—everywhere.

Of course, I see myself repeating the same pattern.
And I’m proud of growing up with such strong women—they’re my heroes.

But I need to stop and ask myself:

Do I want Sofka to grow up like that, too?

To always put others first, even at her own expense?

Because that’s what “strong women” do?

No!

We need to change the narrative—being a “strong woman” shouldn’t mean being silent and suffering.

When the Body Says No

It’s especially hard for women to set boundaries—especially at work. When we say “no,” we’re seen as “rude” or “bossy.”

That’s the real problem. We were raised to be nice and helpful—even when it hurts us.
Because who wants to be seen as “cold” or “a bitch”?

Ever notice how men don’t have this issue?
At work, they’re “decisive.”
We’re “difficult.”

At 35, I’m glad I’ve learned this lesson “early”:

I have to stop.

I have to learn to say “no.” To Sofka, Marko, my parents, my sister, friends, coworkers…

I have to stop volunteering for things that drain me.
Stop rescuing people who haven’t even asked for help.

I don’t have to save everyone, everywhere, all the time.
I need to learn to let go.

And it’s hard—because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially when my help is “needed” and I know an “easier” way.

But every unspoken “no” adds up.
And then—migraine.

Why? I wasn’t stressed…

Or was I?

My body says: Enough.

So I want to learn to take better care of myself—and stop being “mom” to everyone.

The world won’t end if I don’t jump in every time.
Self-care and boundaries are essential for health.

Baby Steps

I’m starting small. No plans on Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Saturdays—those are my workout days.
And now everyone knows that.

I can’t help everyone at work, especially not right now. Otherwise, my own work suffers and I stress over both things.

The result? Migraine.

And when that happens—I can’t help anyone. I lie in the dark, waiting for the pain to pass.

Who does that serve?

Not me. Not anyone.

So now I put my phone on busy mode during deep work hours.

Just the other day, a new colleague stopped me at the office door, asking for help before I even took my coat off. I said,

“First of all—good morning. Second, I’ll be happy to help if I can, but not right now. I need to finish a few things first.”

I don’t want to be rude. I can’t change my nature entirely.
But I need to polish it. And say “no,” kindly but clearly.

You’re not a bad person—or a bad mom or friend—if you say, “Sorry, I can’t.”

You don’t owe anyone an explanation.
“No” is a complete sentence.

Because I want my child to know it’s okay to put herself first.
Because I want to live a long, healthy life and enjoy it.

If you don’t protect yourself—no one else will.

I have to stop being “mom” to the whole world.

I have to learn to say “no.”
To let go.
To put myself at the top of the list.

It’s not easy—but I’m committed.

Wish me luck.

Warmly,

S-Mama