What happened when I stopped bullshitting myself : An ode to the power of listening

Our guest blog is from Nurturing Birth doula and MotherFolk founder Bethan. Inspired by her own journey, Bethan felt drawn to create a safe space for mothers to be held in their own experiences of motherhood. She does this by using writing as a tool, helping mothers to explore and connect to their thoughts and feelings. With no expectation of perfect writing skills and guided by gentle prompts from community holders, these spaces have become increasingly popular. There are now MotherFolk circles popping up in more and more locations around the UK.

Read about Bethan’s journey...

What happened when I stopped bullshitting myself : An ode to the power of listening

I’m in the bathroom with my 4-year-old, asking if she has cleaned her teeth yet.

She takes a moment to think about it, and then confirms that yes, she has cleaned her teeth.

I know that this moment to think about it is actually a moment to think about whether to tell me the truth or not.

I ask her again, “Are you sure?”

She insists that yes, she has cleaned her teeth.

I say, “If I ask Daddy if you’ve brushed your teeth, what will he say?”

“Well,” she says, “he was having a drink when I did it, so he didn’t see.”

At this point I know with certainty that she is bullshitting me.

Credit: Skinn Photography

Since leaving my 9 to 5 job during my second pregnancy, I have become totally intolerant of bullshit.

The public arts sector is fantastic at it. I spent most of my career working my way up the ladder, perfecting the craft of bullshitting as I climbed higher.

I have worked for organisations that are world-class at talking about improving lives through creativity. But in practice, a lot of them cause far more damage than good to people’s livelihoods.

And I don’t say that from an ethical pedestal - I was inside those systems, doing the work, learning the language, telling the beautiful story about care & creativity, but delivering next to nothing meaningful behind the scenes. I bullshitted myself for a long time about the role I was playing in society through my job.

But when you pretend for long enough, your life becomes nothing but a shell. By the time I left my job, my identity had become nothing more than a PR exercise.

I was embodying the narrative that mothers can have it all - but I was losing everything that mattered.

No stable nervous system. No purpose. No presence with my child. No connection with myself, and certainly no connection with my work. My job was nothing more than a hard outer casing of a story I’d committed to, polished and defended, about making the world a better place through the arts, but there was no flesh inside it. There was no soft, gooey, honest centre to show for it.

I didn’t know who I was anymore, other than my pay cheque and impressive job title.

When I left my job during my second pregnancy, I knew that the only way I wanted to live my life was to stop telling the story of who I thought I should be, and start listening instead.

I started listening to my body, my family, my community, my creativity, and my soul’s natural rhythms. From the moment I walked away from my old career, every step I took was small, responsive, organic.

This is how MotherFolk came about. It started with my own motherhood, and the environment I wanted to create for me and my new baby.

And that became a group in my local bookshop that other mothers in my community yearned for too; a baby-friendly but mother-focused writing circle. Over time, I kept listening to the mothers around me, kept taking small, responsive, organic steps, and this steadily evolved into more writing circles in more locations, with demand growing every season.

Each writing circle is centred around listening, too. We use writing as a tool to tune in with ourselves. We share our stories to be truly heard. My role is to hold that space, to deeply listen, and to support the ways that listening to one another can reveal our own truths.

In a world that tells mothers how to behave and feel at every turn, simply having space to write and speak - without interruption, advice, or judgement - feels radical. This is the principle upon which I decided to do my doula training with Nurturing Birth, which has since underpinned MotherFolk’s practice. 

Listening also means being honest with myself when I’ve made mistakes, learning, and forgiving myself, which in turn helps me show up to each circle at peace, without armour, ready to listen.

Everything I write and publish comes from a place of listening to myself, and often end up bearing the gnarly soul of my motherhood - not as some publicity stunt, but to cut through the bullshit we’ve been sold about motherhood, and to dismantle a culture where mothers feel ashamed of their diverse ‘picture imperfect’ experiences.

And listening is the principle driving MotherFolk’s growth, too: I have been humbled by the number of requests I’ve had for MotherFolk Writing Circles across the country over the last couple of years. This year, MotherFolk has welcomed 7 new community holders from different corners of the country into the network. They’re opening their own circles for mothers in their local communities, so that more mothers can be heard and held. 

Our work culture is defined by collaboration, humanness, openness and compassion, the antithesis to the defensive PR culture I came from. 

I’m hearing one thing loud and clear: mothers want a different kind of motherhood culture. And we’re building it, together.

Today, I feel much closer to having it all, but not in the way that the patriarchy intended. I have my nervous system in-tact (most of the time - I still have 2 kids under 5!). I have the freedom to shape my work rhythms around my children. I feel properly connected to my gooey, honest, fleshy centre, even when it’s ugly.

And that all feels like a much bigger pay-off.

And, for the first time in my career, I can say - without bullshitting you - that the work I’m doing has meaning and makes a difference to people’s lives. I promise I won’t stop listening.

And here I am with my 4-year-old, who has the audacity to barge into my bullshit-free life, committed to selling me her own little PR stunt as she tries to convince me she’s cleaned her teeth.

(Credit: Skinn Photography)

My husband comes downstairs. I ask him if she’s brushed her teeth. He says that yes, she has.

Oh shit. She was telling the truth the whole time. And I didn’t listen.

If reading about my career change has stirred anything inside you, this is your invitation to listen. I am now inviting more mothers to join the MotherFolk network and start circles in your local area.

If you’re a doula – especially if you’re a Nurturing Birth doula, you already share the space-holding values of MotherFolk. I’d love to hear from you. 

Email me at bethan@motherfolk.org.uk for a Community Holder Prospectus, or visit www.motherfolk.org.uk to find out more about what we’re all about.