When I Stopped Defending and Started Living

"Off school today then?"

The question was innocent enough. The shop assistant was just making small talk while she scanned my shopping. My boys looked and me and I smiled back. Not this question again!

In those early days of home education, that question would always throw me. Its a simple question yet I heard it differently. I heard: Justify yourself. Prove this is legitimate. Convince me you're not ruining your child's life.

So I would. Every single time.

"We home educate actually," I'd say, with a confidence I absolutely did not feel. And then would come the questions. Always the same ones. What about socialisation? Is mummy a good teacher? Do you miss school?

I didn't need to answer. Most people were just filling the silence while they bagged my groceries. They had zero actual interest in our lives. But I couldn't hear that yet. Every question felt like a test I had to pass.

So I'd launch into it. The benefits of home education. The problems with the school system. All the reasons our decision made perfect sense. They had asked and so they were going to get all my fears dressed up as certainty.

The truth was I wasn't confident in our decision. Not really.

We'd made it because we had to. Because I'd seen too many tiny moments that told me something wasn't right. Because I'd heard "he's doing great, no problems here" from people who didn't see what I saw. Because "mum seems anxious" was easier for them than "maybe we're missing something."

My family depended on this working. My children depended on this working. There was no space for doubt. No room for other people's opinions. Opinions hadn't helped us before, so why would they help us now?

Nobody else knew my child. They didn't witness all those small moments when you just know. When your gut tells you something isn't right

So yes, I was defensive. Aggressively, exhaustingly defensive. Because the alternative was letting the doubt in, and I couldn't afford that. I knew certain little ears were listening and I needed them to know that I believed.

I can't pinpoint exactly when it changed. But somewhere along the way, I stopped needing to convince strangers that the way we lived our life was valid. I no longer felt the need to prove.

I learned to tell the difference between genuine curiosity and polite small talk. You can feel it immediately when someone actually wants to know more, when someone is genuinely curious. The energy shifts and the questions go deeper. Those conversations I'll give my time to gladly, those conversations I enjoy.

But most questions? They're just noise. Background chatter. The social script we all follow to be polite.

"He's off school today then?"

"We home educate."

"Oh lovely."

And we both move on with our day.

I can see now that the early defensiveness wasn't really about home education at all. It was about me learning to trust myself again.

I'd spent so long listening to teachers, family, friends, experts and strangers on the internet, that I'd forgotten how to hear my own knowing. The quiet, certain voice that had been there all along, underneath the noise. My mama bear instincts perhaps?

Home education forced me to find it again. To trust it. To build my life on it instead of on other people's approval.

And once I stopped defending our decision and started actually living it? Everything got easier.

Not because home education itself became easier, it's still messy and uncertain and full of moments where I have no idea what I'm doing. But now I see more moments were my children are happy, laughter had filled our house one again and the curiosity was back. I had all the proof I needed and that filled me with a quiet confidence. Confidence that stopped me needing everyone else to validate what I already knew was right for us.

Confidence in a life built on trust instead of fear.

I thought I would feel cringy about all those conversations where I stood my ground with strangers but I don't, because I know that every time I defended our decision, I was actually firming up my own beliefs.

My mama bear strength grew with each "but what about socialisation?" comment that I batted away.

It made me feel capable again. Like my voice had returned after years of it being drowned out by everyone else's opinions about what was best for my children.

The "don't mess with me or my cubs" energy was real. No it wasn't elegant, but it was exactly what we needed.

Instinctively, without realizing it I was creating space and pushing back against all the noise. Building a boundary around my family so we could actually hear ourselves think. The message was loud and clear, "back off, everyone. We need room to figure this out."

That defensiveness served its purpose. It got me to a place where I trust my knowing more than I trust other people's doubts.

Sometimes the messy, uncomfortable bits are exactly what we need. Even if we can't see it at the time.

Still finding your way back to trusting what you know? Me too. That's what Alongside is about.