The Perks of Being An Unmarried Woman & No Longer Unhinged

I got divorced when my son was two years old. Separated and moved when he was just 15 months old. A baby still. Young enough that some people told me he “wouldn’t remember anything,” as if children only absorb trauma once they can properly explain it out loud. After all, he would eventually spend more and more time with his father as he grew. But at least he would be going back to the house he knew (some comfort there). I purchased a new home a couple of miles away.

I just knew that environment was not the one I would raise my young son in. 

The tension, his constant complaining, living with someone who could suck the life out of a room by just walking through the door. I didn't want him to see me struggle. I didn’t want him to learn that love meant anxiety. I didn’t want him to think a household should feel tense, unpredictable, or emotionally exhausting. I didn’t want him growing up around a full-time narcissist whose moods dictated the atmosphere of the entire home. 

I especially didn’t want him to learn that women were supposed to tolerate that kind of behavior indefinitely. So we left.

And more than twenty years later, I can honestly say this with my whole heart & soul. I have never regretted it. Not once. Not during the hard years. Not during the broken years. Not during the lonely moments. Not even during the times when society tried to convince me I was somehow “missing out.” See the Smug Marrieds post. Because what I gained was peace. And peace is priceless.

People love to romanticize marriage at all costs, but I don’t think enough people talk honestly about what it feels like to live in a home where your nervous system never gets to rest. There is a very specific exhaustion that comes from constantly wondering which version of someone is about to waltz into your space (see Living with a Narcissist post). I used to dread the sound of the garage door opening. That sound alone could trigger a pit in my stomach instantly. Not because I was excited someone was home, but because I immediately started mentally preparing myself. Which personality was showing up tonight? The irritated one? The passive-aggressive one? The one looking for conflict? The one determined to complain about every single thing within a five-mile radius?

People who have never lived with someone like that truly don’t understand how draining it is. It’s not always screaming matches and dramatic explosions. Sometimes it’s just endless negativity. Constant criticism. Nitpicking. Complaining about dinner. Complaining about work. Complaining about money. Complaining about traffic. Complaining about life. Complaining about the fact that the sky is apparently too sky-ish. It’s like living with a rain cloud that never moves. Enter The Constant Complainer - see this post too. And after a while, you stop relaxing. Your body learns to stay braced. Even silence feels tense because you’re waiting for the next shift in mood.

That is not how I wanted to live. That is definitely not how I wanted my child to live. I wanted my son to grow up in a peaceful home. A calm home. A safe home. I wanted laughter without tension attached to it. I wanted him to see stability instead of emotional chaos disguised as “normal marriage problems.” And honestly? Leaving was one of the best decisions I ever made as a mother.

Because peace changes everything.
Once the drama is gone, you realize how loud it actually was. I remember sitting in my own house after the divorce and noticing how quiet everything felt. Not empty. Not sad. Quiet. Safe. I could drink coffee without someone criticizing something, anything. I could watch TV without feeling tension sitting next to me on the couch. I could exist without monitoring another adult’s emotional temperature like a human mood ring. It was incredible. And over time, that peace became addictive.

People always assume unmarried women are secretly miserable, and I genuinely think that belief exists because some people cannot comprehend a woman choosing peace over partnership. But I have never once looked back and thought, "Wow, I really miss walking on eggshells." No woman has ever sat me down and whispered, “You know what I regret? Escaping emotional exhaustion.” If anything, most divorced women I know say the exact opposite. They sleep better. Their anxiety improves. They laugh more. They rediscover themselves. They stop living in survival mode.

I think society would rather women endure than disappoint people. And that’s unfortunate. Because I’m going to say something that sounds controversial but really shouldn’t: marriage is not automatically better than solitude. Not if the marriage costs you your mental health. Not if it turns your home into a battlefield. Not if it forces your child to grow up in constant emotional instability.

I chose peace.

And I would choose it again. Every. Single. TIme. In fact, the older I get, the firmer I become in one specific decision: I Will Never Get Married Again. Ever. Not because I “hate men.” Not because I’m bitter. Not because I’m secretly wounded and pretending to be independent. I simply love my peace too much. See post The Bliss of Living Alone. I love not dreading footsteps. I love not having to manage another adult’s emotions. I love not being emotionally held hostage by someone else’s bad moods. I love that my home feels calm instead of heavy. I love being able to breathe fully in my own space.

There is a freedom that is hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. No emotional babysitting. No wondering why a grown man suddenly has the energy of a disgruntled toddler because the grocery store didn't carry the right kind of potato chips. I would rather be placed in a 72-hour psych hold than listen to complaints ad nauseam. Three meals a day. A quiet room. No one moaning from the recliner. And the women who laugh at jokes like that are likely harboring the buried truth underneath them. Too many women are exhausted. Too many women are carrying entire households emotionally while pretending it’s normal. Too many women have been conditioned to believe that suffering quietly is some kind of achievement.

I rejected that idea a long time ago. And I’m grateful every single day that I did. Because now that my son is grown, I can look back and know I gave him something valuable: a peaceful home. At least for as long as I could. Not a perfect one. Not a wealthy one. Not a Pinterest-perfect one. But a peaceful one.

And I will never apologize for choosing that.

love, kate

Good Articles:

I’ve joined the sisterhood of divorced women. We’re happier set free

Why Women Tend to Be Happier Than Men After Divorce

4 Reasons Why Single Women Are The Happiest People On Earth—By A Psychologist