From burnt beginnings to boardrooms: my letter to other single parents

If you’d asked anyone back when I was 16 whether I’d end up in the senior civil service, they’d have laughed — maybe even I would have too. I’d just left school with two GCSEs, was living in a bedsit, and working in a clothing factory. I was fairly sure of two things: I didn’t ever really want children, but if I ever had one, I would parent very differently. 

Life, of course, had other plans. 

I drifted between low-paid jobs — factory work, fast food outlets, driving, bar shifts — never lazy, but never quite fulfilled either. And then came the surprise that changed everything. I found myself pregnant while working in a pub, living above it with my partner. When my daughter was just eight weeks old, a fire ripped through the building. We were rescued barefoot from the third floor. Everything was gone — my baby’s cot, her clothes, my home, my sense of control. I moved back into my parents’ house, and while I was safe, I felt like I’d lost everything. 

But sometimes, rock bottom is where we find solid ground. 

When my daughter was about 18 months old, I applied for a job in the Civil Service. It was a gruelling process — a series of tests, assessments, and interviews. It’s strange to think that if I’d waited even a year or two, I wouldn’t have qualified under the new educational requirements. It was one of many sliding door moments in my life. 

A few years later, life shifted again. I became a single parent. I was working night shifts, relying heavily on grandparents and friends. I’d finish a 12-hour shift, drop my daughter at nursery, sleep for a few hours, pick her up, give her what time and attention I could, and repeat. I was exhausted — physically and emotionally. I felt like I was failing as a mum, and as a professional. 

Eventually, I took a huge leap. I moved into an administrative role with a significant pay cut — it was a scary decision, but it turned out to be the best one. That job became the start of a Civil Service career that has since seen me promoted through every grade, working with Ministers, shaping national policy, and being awarded an MBE. 

But let me be clear — this journey wasn’t easy. There was no magic shortcut. I’ve battled imposter syndrome at every step. That feeling of not being quite good enough never entirely goes away. But I’ve learned to let it fuel me, not stop me. I’ve used it to stay grounded, and to drive change from the inside. 

One of my proudest achievements has been using my position to challenge the status quo — pushing for job adverts that value experience over formal qualifications, championing social mobility, and showing that leadership doesn’t come with a postcode or a university tie. It comes from resilience, perspective, and empathy — three things every single parent I know has in abundance. 

I often say: my past moulded me, but it does not define me. And neither should yours. 

Being a single parent gives you life skills that no training course can ever teach. You learn to stretch time and money in ways that would impress any finance director. You learn to plan, problem-solve, negotiate, multi-task, and above all — to keep going, even when every part of you is tired. These are the very skills that make brilliant leaders. 

The most valuable advice I can offer? Find your people. The ones who see your potential, even when you can’t. Borrow their belief until you find your own. Don’t discount yourself — the world already does that too often. Your lived experience is your power. You are already enough.

So, here’s to the single parents — the bedtime-story readers, the budget-stretchers, the job jugglers, the quiet fighters. You are strong. You are skilled. And you are capable of more than you even know.

Your past might have shaped you, but your future is yours to create.

Karyn