The Reel That Broke Me a Little

I recently saw a reel of a young mum sitting on the stairs, screaming and sobbing at her children. One of her kids had taken their entire dinner to their room and dropped it on the carpeted stairs. It went everywhere.

That was her final straw. Utterly and completely fucking done. Exhausted to her core. Or no core. She had nothing left except rage at the sheer injustice of her circumstance.

I would be lying if I said I have not been there.

As a single mother of two ADHD boys, no family support nearby, not much of a friend group, full time work, and a less than bare minimum co-parent who lives two hours away, there is no village here. None. Just me and the stairs.

People always say to me, it was not meant to be this way.

Okay. Great. Now what.

“I do not know how you do it.” Another all time classic.

The No Choice Reality

I do it because I do not have a choice. That is it. If I do not do it, it does not get done and my life will fall apart. There is no one else waiting in the wings.

If I had the money, the very first thing I would pay for is domestic labour support. The kind of support women expected of women, the kind they have quietly provided men the world over for centuries.

My god, what I could achieve with that kind of backup. A nanny. A mother’s helper. A cleaner. A cook. A driver. A laundry person. A team. A roster. A small miracle.

I know most women, partnered or not, have tasted this load. I know parents who do a lot of solo parenting when their partner is away understand the weight of it too.

But the biggest difference is this. Financially and emotionally, the buck stops with me. There is no second income. No parental backup. Zero safety net.

And when the kids and I are sick, it is the absolute worst.

There have been times lying on the bathroom floor, dual vomiting with my eldest, handing him my phone and saying, “If I pass out mate, call an ambulance.”

Brutal. Scary. Soul destroying.

The Woman on the Stairs

I am probably one of the strongest people I know. I am almost offensively organised and routine driven because I have to be. Weirdly, I think my ADHD has become a kind of superpower, giving me the energy force to keep going when logic says I should stop.

But every few months, I too have a huge, hopeless, ugly cry. There is a moment where I lose my shit with the kids, immediately regret it, and at times berate myself for being a terrible parent. The spiral is fast. The guilt is loud.

Moments like these remind me of the woman on the stairs.

I did not see someone failing. I saw someone who had been holding it together for too long with too little support. A woman who loves her kids deeply, who had reached the edge of her capacity, and whose body finally said enough. That moment was not weakness. It was vulnerability, honesty. And the truth is, so many of us have been on those stairs, even if no one was there to film it.

These moments are not personal shortcomings. They are what happens when we carry too much, too quietly, for too long. When we break, it is not because we are incapable. It is because we are human. Support, connection, and being able to say this is hard without shame actually matter.

A Place to Land When It All Gets Heavy

The idea of the Flamingo Theory embodies this. Not to fix you, but as a place to stand together, a kind of safety net. A space to tell the truth out loud, to feel seen, and to remember you are not shitty human for being human. We cannot clean the house, finish your report, or give you a hug when things get tough.  But we can be a place where honesty lives, where stories are shared, and where the mental load feels lighter simply because you are not carrying it alone.

If you have ever been that woman on the stairs, or felt one dropped meal away from becoming her, welcome to the club. Drop us a comment on our INSTAGRAM. Send us a message via ASK THE FLOCK. Join the CLUB FLAMINGO for members only moments being dropped in your inbox. You bring your sweet self, sense of humour, honesty and curiosity. We’ll bring the top shelf wine, maybe a pack of smokes and some excellent stories.

Love you.

xo Sal