Married, Single Mother of Two

No one tells you how lonely marriage can be.

Sure, they talk about the honeymoon phase, the compromises, the work it takes to make a relationship last. But they don’t talk about this kind of work. The kind that feels like carrying the weight of a whole family on your back while smiling for pictures and pretending your legs aren’t buckling beneath you.

I never expected to feel like a single mom while married.

But I did. I lived it.

At first, I thought I just needed to try harder—communicate more, be more understanding, more patient. After all, we were a team, right? Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be? Two people building a life together, supporting each other through the hard stuff?

Somewhere along the way, I stopped feeling like a teammate and started feeling like the entire team.

I was the one keeping track of everything. The appointments. The grocery lists. The school spirit days. The emotional check-ins. The bedtime routines. The tantrums. The scraped knees. The birthday gifts. The family holidays. The everything. And when I say everything, I mean everything.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t physically there. He was there. Sitting on the couch, lost in his phone. Or working late. Or saying he’d help—and then forgetting. Sometimes he’d even ask me what he needed to do… like I was his manager, too.

I wasn’t just parenting the kids. I was parenting him.

And somewhere in the midst of all that managing and mothering, I disappeared.

I started fantasizing about being single—not because I didn’t love my family, but because at least then the loneliness would make sense. At least then, the silence in the evenings wouldn’t feel like such a betrayal. At least then, I wouldn’t be doing it all and still wondering if I was doing enough.

It felt like grief. Like mourning the marriage I thought I’d have. The partner I thought I’d chosen. The life we were supposed to be building together.

And then came the rage. Quiet, simmering, constant. Rage at the injustice of it. At how invisible I had become in my own life. At how hard I was trying while still being told I was “too emotional” or “nagging” when I dared to ask for help.

The worst part? I thought it was just me.

That somehow, I was the problem. That I just wasn’t “balanced” enough. That maybe I needed to try another time management app or read one more marriage book. But no amount of calendars, to-do lists, or communication scripts could fix the fact that I wasn’t in a partnership. I was in survival mode—with a wedding ring on.

If you’re reading this and nodding through tears, I want you to know something:

You’re not crazy. You’re exhausted.

You’ve been running on empty while holding everyone else’s world together.

You’re not failing. You’re functioning under impossible conditions.

And you’re not alone anymore.

There are so many of us. Women who look like they’ve got it all together but are breaking inside. Women who smile through PTA meetings and cry in the shower. Women who love deeply and give endlessly and still feel like it’s never quite enough.

We see you. We honor your strength. Your heartbreak. Your grit.

We are not judging your mess, your resentment, or your daydreams about escaping to a quiet cabin in the woods with no one asking for snacks.

We get it. We’ve lived it.

This space—The Me Verdict—is for you. For the woman who stayed longer than she should’ve. Who tried harder than she had to. Who believed in love and learned that sometimes, love isn’t enough when you’re the only one doing the loving.

We’re here to remind you:
You’re not weak. You’re rising.
You’re not dramatic. You’re depleted.
You’re not failing. You’re feral, fierce, and finding your way back to you.

And you don’t have to do it alone anymore.

If this spoke to your soul, share it with a woman who needs to hear it. Then take one deep breath, one bold step, and know this: you are seen, you are strong, and you are not alone.

Let’s rise together. 💛