When asked whether as a childless woman, I feel worthy, I wondered at first, worthy of what? Am I worthy of love? Yes. Worthy of respect? It seems not as much as woman who are mothers. Worthy of a place in society? Probably not.
I didn’t think about having children much until I was in my thirties. Before that, I was focused on learning and believed I was going to have an interesting career. I thought I’d have kids eventually—that’s what people do. But I’d need a partner first.
I got married six months before I turned 40. Given my age and additional circumstances, it’s not a surprise that my husband and I are childless, now in our fifties. What is a bit of a surprise is that it hurts this much—not all the time, but enough to matter, and in ways I wasn’t conscious of for a long time.
I changed a lot of false ideas about worthiness by the time my biological clock was winding down. But as I approached my mid-forties and almost everyone around me who mattered was a parent, the question of worthiness returned. It’s not something obvious. Our internalized beliefs about who matters and who doesn’t are often subconscious, at least in the beginning. By the time we uncover and question those beliefs, they’ve already caused a lot of damage.
For years, my family life revolved around my siblings and their children. When it came to family events and dynamics, I had to go along with whatever they wanted since I was a minority of one (later two). Subconsciously, or maybe even right out loud, I chalked my invisibility up to the fact that as a childless person, my life didn’t matter nearly as much as the lives of parents and kids.
The narrative that leads childless adults to feel unworthy sneaks into the psyches of non-parents and makes them afraid to be noticedand at the same time sad because we’re invisible. Who wants to be noticed when that means being seen as someone who lacks what’s important?
If we dare point out our pain and grief to people who have children (and even some who don’t), many of them tell us we’re imagining it. We’re not thought less of. We’re included in all their family events, after all, aren’t we?
Well, yes. But we don’t belong. We’re invited into their world, perhaps, but do they step into ours? We feel unworthy because we assume we’re seen that way. We assume we’re seen that way because we’ve so often experienced being seen that way. No one feels less than without a little help from others.
People don’t celebrate childlessness, just like they don’t celebrate singleness. Naturally, they don’t. Both are labels to describe what’s missing.Even if we’re not flat-out rejected, the truth is, little about our lives is celebrated. That hurts. And we feel invisible.
It may be unfair, but we need be the first to change the narrative by embracing who we are and what we have to offer the world. If we don’t see ourselves as worthy and use that insight to change the narrative for others, who will? The people who put us here aren’t going to do it.
It’s easy to buy into ideas about worthiness without question if one is fortunate enough to be on the “worthy” team. Because of that, some people will never get it. They’ll expect us to do all the work when it comes to belonging. But that doesn’t mean there’s no place for us anywhere. We can make a difference.
The truth is, no one is worthy, and at the same time we all are. We all need to see this clearly, because until we do, we all suffer.
The complexity of separating our beliefs about ourselves from societal constructs and other people’s subconscious beliefs doesn’t just apply to childlessness, of course. There are many marginalized groups. But childless people are often less visible for a few reasons. We suffer a kind of grief few people recognize, because they don’t understand how it’s possible to grieve what we’ve never had.
As we work to heal our grief, how can we also come to see ourselves as worthy despite not having much of a place in society? And how can we do that and stay involved in the lives of family/friends and their kids? It can’t just be us in their lives while they remain outside of ours.
While I do believe I’m worthy, it’s mostly an intellectual exercise. I often don’t feel worthy because I’m not treated as if I am. I’m unnoticed among the majority of people in my life—in most of our lives—who are focused on families and can use their status as parents to avoid the issue of worthiness altogether. My only job, it seems, is to notice them.
So, how can childless women feel worthy? It will start with changing our internal dialogue for sure. But I don’t think that will be enough. Everyone needs to believe that either everyone is worthy, or no one is. That will take time and a lot of effort. It may never happen. In the meantime, the best we can do is find our sisters (and brothers) who do get it. They are out there.
There is no thing—quality, accomplishment, status, etc.—that makes anyone worthy. We’re all worthy simply for the fact that we’re here. When we truly operate from that perspective, all of us will shine.
MK
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