The morbid mom isn’t who you think she is
When people hear “morbid”, they picture crime documentaries, dark jokes at inappropriate times, and someone who probably needs therapy.
They’re not entirely wrong.
But they’re not entirely right either.
The Morbid Mom isn’t heartless.
She’s hyper-aware.
She’s the one who makes a joke in the middle of chaos – not because she doesn’t care, but because she cares so much, she needs pressure relief.
She’s the mom who:
- Laugs at memes about burnout
- Cries in the shower so no one hears
- Packs lunches while mentally dissecting her childhood
- Smiles in public and overthinks everything later
She is not broken
She is processing
Dark humor isn’t cruelty. It’s compression. It’s the brain’s way of saying, “If I don’t laugh, I might actually lose it.”
And let’s be honest – most of us are walking around with unspoken things:
- Anxiety that hums in the background
- Trauma we’ve minimized
- Exhaustion we normalize
- Thoughts we’d never say out loud
The Morbid Mom says some of them out loud.
Not to be edgy. Not to shock. But to make the invisible, visible.
Because pretending you’re fine is exhausting.
And healing doesn’t look like beige journals and soft music all the time.
Sometimes it looks like:
- Crying
- Then laughing at yourself for crying
- Then making a slightly inappropriate joke
- Then actually doing the work.
This space isn’t about glorifying darkness.
It’s about admitting it exists – and choosing to build anyway.
If you’ve ever:
- Laughed at something you “Shouldn’t”
- Felt too intense for the room
- Wanted softness but also felt just a little too sharp
- Needed both therapy and sarcasm
You’re not alone.
You’re not dramatic. You’re not twisted. You’re not “too much.”
You’re aware.
And awareness is power.
Welcome to The Morbid Mom.
We heal here. We joke here. We build here.
And we don’t pretend.
KARL.
Hey, it's Karl! 