Emerald sat in the living room of her small apartment, the glow of her laptop screen casting a shadow on the wall. She stared at the blinking cursor, wondering if she should even post it. It had been a difficult morning, one of those when nothing goes right. Her toddler, Alex, had thrown a tantrum over breakfast, and in the chaos, Emma left him alone in the living room for a few minutes while she took a deep breath. She knew it wasn't the best, but she needed a moment to herself.
She typed:
"This morning was rough. I had to step away from my son for a few minutes. I feel guilty. Is this normal?" With a sigh, Emma hit send.
At first, the comments were sympathetic. A few mothers shared their own stories. One woman reassured Emma that it was okay to take a break now and then. But soon, the comments took a turn from being sympathetic.
"As a mother of three, I can tell you that leaving your child alone is never acceptable."
"As a pediatric nurse, I've seen children hurt in those few minutes. It's not safe."
"I'm a child psychologist, and you really need to learn how to manage your stress better. Leaving your child alone is damaging even for those few minutes."
"Where is the father?" " I don't see anyone for you to leave the child with."
Emerald's heart sank. Each comment, despite being from well-meaning strangers, made her feel more and more isolated. She hadn't expected this - she hadn't even asked for advice. She just wanted to share a moment of vulnerability. But now it felt as though everyone was using their "role" as justification to speak over her, to tell her what she should have done.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She thought about responding, about explaining her situation in more detail. But every time she tried, another comment would pop up. Each one more lordly more sure of itself.
She typed a response anyway:
"I'm just doing the best I can. I know it's not perfect, but I'm a human being, not a saint." " I just took five minutes break."
But the comments kept coming, relentless and loud. A voice of judgment echoed in her mind, each one telling her she wasn't good enough, each one reminding her that her experience wasn't as valid as their roles suggested.
"I was babysitting a child and took a five-minute break. When I came back, I found the toddler I was babysitting choking on its spit." There were hundred likes under this comment, with follow-up comments agreeing with it.
Emerald sat back, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. Why was she letting these strangers have so much power over her feelings? Wasn't it enough to just be a mother, trying to steer the messiness of life?
With a heavy heart, Emerald closed her laptop. She had been taught to engage, to explain, to reason. But today, she didn't want to anymore. She didn't owe them an explanation. She didn't need the validation of strangers who saw her not as a person, but as a collection of her roles. Before she shut down the screen completely, she typed one last message:
"Sometimes, being human is enough. We're not perfect, and that's okay."
And with that, Emma stepped away from the app, Echo. The noise of the world felt distant, and for the first time today, she felt a small peace.
