You know that feeling, don’t you? The one that settles in your chest as you close the front door behind you, the soft click of the lock echoing down the hall. Your little one’s voice still rings in your ears, asking for just one more story, one more hug. And as you walk to the car, a familiar whisper starts: Shouldn’t I be there? Am I doing enough? Am I a good mother? This is mom guilt, and it is the most uninvited, stubborn houseguest a working mother will ever know.

For decades, the world has sold us a picture of the Supermom. She walks out the door in a crisp blazer, a perfect latte in one hand and a color-coded schedule in the other. She brings home the promotion, makes the school bake sale, has a spotless home, and still has the energy for a romantic date night. She exists only on magazine covers and in our own tired minds. The truth is, that Supermom is a fiction, and striving to become her is a fast track to burnout. The healthier, gentler path is to let her go.

Releasing the Supermom myth begins with a single, radical thought: you are already enough. Not on the days when you manage it all, but on the ordinary, messy Wednesday afternoons when you forget the permission slip and your toddler has a meltdown in the grocery store. Enoughness is not something you earn by doing more. It is something you already possess simply because you are the mother your children need. They do not need a perfect executive and a flawless caregiver rolled into one. They need you—your laugh, your smell, the way you rub their back when they are sad. Those small, imperfect moments matter far more than any resume or Pinterest-perfect craft.

One of the most powerful ways to manage mom guilt is to reframe your thinking about time. Instead of counting the hours you spend away from your children, consider the quality of the hours you have together. A frantic, stressed-out hour of trying to cram in a full day of activities while you check your work email on the sly does not nurture your bond. But a calm twenty minutes of lying on the floor with a stack of books, completely present, can fill your child’s emotional tank for hours. When you are home, try to be truly home. Put the phone in another room. Turn off the notifications. Let yourself sink into the ordinary magic of bath time, dinner time, bedtime. This practice, sometimes called “rituals of connection,” can transform guilt into gratitude.

Another truth that is hard to accept is that you cannot be everything to everyone. The working mother’s guilt often comes from the impossible expectation of giving 100% to work and 100% to family every single day. That math simply does not work. Some days you will be a brilliant employee and an okay mother. Other days you will be a glowing mother and a distracted worker. That is not failure. That is balance in motion—a wobble, not a perfect line. Give yourself permission to prioritize. When your child is sick, it is okay to let work slide. When a major deadline looms, it is okay to lean on a partner or a sitter and let the dishes pile up. The only rule is to be honest with yourself and with your family about what you can give on any given day.

It also helps to build a small community of mothers who understand. Isolation breeds guilt because we compare our behind-the-scenes struggles to everyone else’s highlight reel. Find one friend who will not judge you for ordering takeout three nights in a row or for crying in the car after drop-off. Share your stories. When you hear a fellow working mother say, “I felt so guilty today too,” something loosens in your chest. Guilt thrives in secrecy, but it shrinks in the light of shared experience.

Finally, practice self-compassion. When that guilty thought arises, do not fight it or argue with it. Instead, place a gentle hand on your heart and say to yourself, This is hard. I am doing my best. I love my children, and I am allowed to have a career. Both things can be true. You are not a machine designed to produce perfect results. You are a human mother, learning as you go, stumbling and rising again. And that is more than enough. Let the Supermom go. She was never real. But you are—beautifully, wonderfully you.