There’s a kind of truth you can fake with everyone else… until God corners you in a fast and makes you face it head-on.
That’s exactly what happened to me. I didn’t go into that season expecting God to deal with my motherhood — but He did. Hard. And it changed everything.
For years, I slipped into the trap so many moms fall into: I was trying to be a friend to my daughter instead of being her mother.
It wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared too much — about the wrong things.
- I cared about staying close.
- I cared about not fighting.
- I cared about keeping the peace.
- I cared about not losing her heart.
But what I didn’t realize was this:
Trying to be her best friend was slowly costing me my role as her mother.
And God was not having it.
What My Book Doesn’t Hide: I Was Parenting While Broken
When I wrote Fat. Sick. Broken., I didn’t sugar-coat my life. Why would I? God can’t heal what we pretend we haven’t lived.
I talked about being raised without a God-fearing home, without guidance, without boundaries, and without spiritual leadership. My whole upbringing was chaos and survival. I entered motherhood in that same condition — exhausted, addicted, overweight, spiritually empty, emotionally unstable, and relying on my own strength because I didn’t know any better.
I wasn’t a “bad mother.” I was a lost woman trying to raise a child while drowning myself.
And every chapter of my life back then reveals that truth in pieces:
- I was sick, overwhelmed, and spiritually numb.
- I had addiction cycles and strongholds wrapped around my life.
- I didn’t understand boundaries — not for myself, not for my child.
- I had no blueprint for godly parenting.
- And honestly? I was winging motherhood with a broken compass.
When you’re raising a child without God, without truth, without structure, and without healing, what you offer them is whatever scraps of strength you have left. And I was living on scraps.
The Fast That Forced Me to Grow Up
The turning point came when God called me to fast — long before I even really understood fasting.
I went into it thinking I was giving up food. God used it to strip away illusions.
Fasting forces silence. Silence forces truth. And truth makes you look at the parts of yourself you’ve been avoiding.
During that fast, God showed me:
“You have been trying to mother from friendship because you’re afraid of her rejection. That is not love. That is fear.”
And let me tell you — that revelation cut deeper than any sugar, bread, soda, or cigarette I ever laid down.
He showed me how my “friendship mothering” wasn’t helping her. It was hurting both of us.
He showed me how many times I avoided correction because I wanted closeness. How often I softened consequences because I didn’t want conflict. How often I gave emotional comfort when what she needed was Biblical truth.
God didn’t say I was a bad mother. He said I was an untrained one. And He stepped in to train me.
Tough Love Isn’t Harsh — It’s Holy
People misunderstand “tough love,” like it means being cold or mean. No. Tough love is love with a backbone.
And you know what God told me?
“Your daughter does not need another friend. She needs a mother with a spine.”
A mother who stands firm. A mother who corrects. A mother who says no. A mother who prays and wars in the Spirit. A mother who is willing to be disliked for a moment in order to be respected for a lifetime.
Do you know how much that hurt my feelings? Oh, it hurt. But it healed.
Because the moment I stepped out of that “bestie role,” I stepped into the calling God designed me for:
- Mother.
- Leader.
- Guide.
- Protector.
- Boundary-setter.
- Example.
And God honored it.
How Our Relationship Changed
When I stopped being her buddy and started being her mother, everything shifted.
Not at first — at first, it was uncomfortable. Change always is. But slowly, the respect grew. The communication deepened. The trust strengthened.
Our relationship became healthier, holier, and more honest — the way God intended.
That fast didn’t just break sugar addiction. It broke fear. It broke people-pleasing. It broke the belief that my child had to approve of me for me to love her well.
It broke the “bestie mom” mindset that our culture glorifies but God rejects.
I’ll Never Go Back to That Role Again
I don’t ever want to be my daughter’s best friend again. It’s too small of a role for the weight of the assignment God gave me.
A best friend is optional. A mother is foundational.
A best friend comforts. A mother corrects.
A best friend relates. A mother leads.
A best friend will hold your secrets. A mother will hold you accountable to the truth.
I used to think being strict or firm meant I wasn’t loving enough. Now I know:
Love without correction is not love — it’s abandonment wearing a smile.
And I refuse to abandon my daughter ever again — not emotionally, not spiritually, and not through soft, compromising parenting.
If You’re a Mother Reading This…
If something in your spirit is tugging, if you know you’ve been mothering from fear, exhaustion, guilt, or brokenness — hear me:
You are not a bad mother.
You are a mother God wants to realign.
And He will train you the same way He trained me:
- Through truth.
- Through correction.
- Through fasting.
- Through surrender.
Sometimes the toughest love is the love God uses to save the relationship.