Why Mothers Feel Resentment: It’s Not About Their Partner’s Hobbies — It’s About Lost Freedom and Identity
It’s about what golf represents: freedom, autonomy, guilt-free “me time”…
First and foremost - this blog is NOT clinical advice nor is it intended to minimize PMADS or maternal mental health. In fact, it is to strengthen this conversation, expand it and bring more attention to it, from all disciplines and providers who work with Mothers.
It’s never been about golf.
It’s about not having to ask for time that’s already yours.
When women talk about resentment in their partnerships, it often sounds like anger — the kind that simmers beneath jokes about golf, the 20-minute bathroom breaks, or the morning runs that somehow never get interrupted. But beneath that anger often lies something more complex, and more painful: jealousy. Not the kind rooted in envy of a person, but in envy of freedom.
He can take time without asking. She has to ask — and when she finally does, it rarely feels like hers to take.
Resentment as Jealousy
Resentment is often jealousy in disguise — a longing for something we once had or were promised, but somehow lost. For many women, that loss happens in the transition to motherhood, when selfhood becomes fused with responsibility. The boundaries between “me” and “them” blur until there is no clear line at all.
He goes golfing because he wants to. She doesn’t — not because she doesn’t want to, but because she’s learned not to want. She’s been socialized to prioritize others’ needs before her own, to anticipate and manage the invisible labor of family life, and to measure her worth by her capacity to do so seamlessly.
Her time is collective property — absorbed by others’ needs, scheduled around their lives, taken up by care. His time remains his own.
The Socialization That Keeps Us Trapped
This isn’t a story about individual men or women. It’s a story about cultural conditioning.
From early socialization, girls are encouraged toward empathy, attunement, and care. Boys are encouraged toward autonomy, leadership, and self-assertion. These seemingly benign differences accumulate over time, creating a relational imbalance that becomes especially visible once children enter the picture.
He’s been taught to take — not selfishly, but as a natural extension of his autonomy. She’s been taught to ask — and to feel grateful when the answer is yes. Even when she has access to time alone, it’s soaked in guilt, laced with self-surveillance: Did I earn this? Do they need me? Am I allowed to enjoy it?
Her body may be away from the family, but her mind remains tethered. The invisible leash of care follows her everywhere.
The Emotional Cost of “Permission”
When one partner moves through the world assuming permission, and the other lives waiting for it, the emotional gap widens. The difference is not merely behavioral — it’s existential. One is oriented toward self as default; the other is oriented toward others as default.
This is what makes the golf game, the run, or the bathroom break symbolic. They are moments of uncomplicated autonomy — the ability to move through time and space without negotiation or apology. When she watches him leave, the pang she feels isn’t bitterness. It’s grief. It’s the reminder of how fully she’s been absorbed by care — and how foreign it feels to inhabit herself again.
Reclaiming Selfhood: A Cultural, Not Personal, Task
The work of reclaiming selfhood is not simply about better time management or asking for help. It’s about unlearning the deep cultural narratives that equate goodness with self-erasure.
True liberation doesn’t come from more balance, but from reimagining what care — and equality — actually look like. It means interrogating the stories we’ve inherited:
That mothers are naturally better at caregiving.
That fathers “help.”
That rest must be earned.
That taking time for yourself is indulgent.
These aren’t personal beliefs; they are cultural scripts. And they’re powerful. They shape how we love, labor, and lose ourselves.
A Different Kind of Freedom
Resentment, when understood correctly, can be a compass. It points us toward what feels missing — not because we are broken or ungrateful, but because something within us is asking to be reclaimed.
It’s not about golf. Or the bathroom. Or the run.
It’s about the quiet, radical act of remembering that your time is yours, too and always has been.
For couples ready to transform the mental load and reimagine care together, it’s both the work of unlearning and reimagining what’s possible…it' requires BOTH of you to be engaged, motivated and accountable…but it’s possible. And for those of you eager to begin this process solo (either without partner or until they’re ready…), this work is personally and deeply transformative too.
Ready to Go Deeper?
Download the CARE Model – Start the shift with our free introduction guide to dismantling the mental load and re-imagining care.
Purchase The CARE and HOLD Model for Professionals here. And if you are interested in this model personally, you can purchase the Guide here.
Learn More and Get Involved
Professionally: The Matricentric Way is leading this paradigm shift - it truly is expanding the conversation on maternal mental health. If you are a professional that supports Mothers, I invite you to enroll in The Matricentric Way, either LIVE or self-paced. Join this movement today so that we can transform not only the lives of the individual Mothers we support, but the greater collective of Mothers.
Personally: The Becoming Mama course is available self-paced for any Mother within her first 7 or so years postpartum, interested in learning more about her matrescence AND the impact of Patriarchal Motherhood on her experience of being a Mother. (NOTE: this is NOT a substitute for clinical therapy NOR is it recommended to treat maternal mental health challenges. Consult your therapist for any mental health concerns.)
