The loneliness of being a divorced mom is real. Here’s how I’m coping

As a divorced mom of two boys, I’ve realized how common it is to feel lonely even when you’re rarely (if ever) alone. Like that time I got the stomach flu right before bedtime. I held a trash can in one arm while feeding my baby a bottle in the other. My older son lay next to me listening to a story on headphones (because there was simply no version of that night where I would be reading). In between waves of nausea, I closed my eyes and felt it: the loneliness was heavy, sudden, and real.

It sneaks up on me in the happiest moments, too. When my sons are thriving. When they’re celebrating their wins and I’m there cheering them on. The loneliness seems to always be there, trailing behind the joy like a shadow. One minute I’m lacing up my son’s hockey skates, beaming with pride as he gears up for his favorite thing in the world. The next, I’m realizing that I’m the only mom among dads and their pep talks, and I’m feeling that familiar mix of isolation and insecurity.

Moments like these started to clarify something I’ve been struggling to name: the specific loneliness that divorced moms carry—the one that isn’t talked about enough, because it’s easier to focus on the strong, unflappable Supermom holding it all together. But both things can be true.

For anyone else who has found herself feeling utterly alone in a sea of parents at hockey practice—seen by everyone and known by no one—here’s what I want you to understand about the particular loneliness of doing this without a partner: where it actually comes from, why your village (wonderful as it may be) can’t fully fix it, and what has helped me start to make peace with it.

The loneliness that comes from not being seen

In 2024, the U.S. Surgeon General issued an official advisory on parenting stress and isolation. The Parents Under Pressure Advisory confirmed what so many of us feel: Parenting stress is a genuine public health concern, and it’s worse on solo parents. Sixty-five percent of parents reported feeling isolated and lonely. For single parents, that number rose to 75%.

Of course, a solo parent is rarely actually alone. From wake-up through the busy day to active bedtimes, solo parenting is relentless and demanding. Any parent can relate to that rare, precious moment of just a little privacy. But what I’ve come to realize after a lot of soul searching, therapy, and connecting with others in my same boat is this: The loneliness of a divorced mom is less about not having people around and more about not feeling truly seen.

Sometimes feeling lonely stems from feeling misunderstood, explains Nona Kelly, licensed marriage and family therapist at Thriveworks. Given the judgement, pressure, and isolation that many divorced moms feel, it’s not uncommon to get the sense that no one really knows what you’re going through.

“There is a level of anxiety for divorced moms every day,” Kelly says. “Fear is what fuels her and that fuel burns all day, leaving her exhausted from outside expectations and missing encouragement.”

Which can explain why a well-intentioned “I don’t know how you do it” can sometimes feel like a gut punch. Because while they see you holding it together, they’re missing the grief, exhaustion, and self-consciousness that can leave you feeling very alone.

The ambiguous loss of a shared experience

Grief can run deep after divorce. And, according to Kelly, divorced moms rarely get the space to fully process that type of loss. “A woman in the earlier stages of being divorced is facing disbelief: ‘This is not what I planned for,’” Kelly says. “While a woman in later stages is often wearing that Superwoman cape to cover the trauma: ‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’”

This kind of disenfranchised grief can be easy to overlook because it’s not the kind of loss we’re used to. It’s the grief of losing a version of life you planned on. The version where the burdens and joys and 2 a.m. worries were shared. Someone to catch your eye across a room when the kids say something hilarious. Someone to talk through a parenting decision with when you genuinely have no idea if you’re handling it right.

This part of loneliness isn’t just about missing a person. It’s about missing the specific experience of someone standing in all of it with me, sharing the same context, holding the same history, equally invested in the people I’m raising.

The myth of the village

Everyone tells divorced moms to lean on their village. There’s an implication that if you just let others in, the feeling will go away. The solution sounds so simple, and yet the feeling persists. That’s because it isn’t fundamentally a logistical problem. It’s an emotional and existential one.

I understand the intention, and I truly love my village. But I have also discovered that having a village is not the same thing as being seen. A village offers logistical support. It covers a school pickup. It can be a financial safety net. It brings dinner on a hard day. It cheers you on. All of that is real and valuable. What it cannot do is stand with you in the granular details of raising your children.

There’s a weight that comes with carrying all of the decisions, all of the unknowns, all of the emotional labor by yourself. Every choice, every moment, every day feels important to developing the little personalities you care so deeply about.

So don’t judge yourself for feeling bitter or ungrateful if comments about your “village” make you feel even worse. You can receive their support (when helpful), while still recognizing that you have needs they can’t completely fulfill.

The mental and physical toll of carrying it all

A solo parent usually knows how much stress their minds and bodies are under, and the research backs that up. A 2025 study published in JAMA Internal Medicine tracked the self-reported mental and physical health of nearly 200,000 mothers across the United States between 2016 and 2023. While mental and physical health declined for all mothers during that time period, single mothers fared the worst. They were 58% more likely than mothers in two-parent households to report fair or poor mental health and 45% more likely to report fair or poor physical health.

If you can relate, these findings may not sound too shocking. Carrying the weight of parenthood alone, navigating the grief of a life you thought you had, and feeling disconnected from those around you. It’s no wonder the mind and body feel the toll.

Chronic loneliness and stress don’t live only in our heads. They can express themselves physically through inflammatory conditions, gastrointestinal issues, low energy, disrupted sleep, and so much more, Kelly explains.

Read more: How to know if therapy can help with a physical health problem

I know how tempting it is to put your own needs on the backburner with all your other obligations. I’ve done it over and over again. I may have my Superwoman cape on, but my body will let me know, loudly and with some urgency, when I need to start paying attention.

While it’s not always easy or even possible to make time for mental health support as a solo parent, Kelly offers this important reminder: “If a car doesn’t have any gas, it can’t run. Have a plan for yourself, too.”

According to Kelly, a few critical things to watch out for include: consistent low energy, lack of motivation, constant self-deprecating talk, and a persistent negative outlook. “Those are big red flags that may point to a need for deeper mental health support,” she says. Old thought patterns and behaviors can often be hard to break on your own, which is why therapy and mental health medication can make a meaningful difference for some, Kelly adds.

Remember, this experience is (unfortunately) not uncommon, and it doesn’t mean that divorce was a “bad choice.” Trust me, that guilt trip isn’t worth the added stress. Instead, it might just mean that you need to layer in more resources—whatever that means for you.

What coping actually looks like

I wish I could tell you I have it all figured out, but this is the part I’m still learning. What I can share are a few things that have helped so far.

Reframing negative thoughts

Whenever possible, I try to shift my focus from what I’ve lost to what I have: the pride in the life I’m building, the fact that I’m present for every single moment—the hockey goals, the silly dance moves, the hard days at school. Being present is everything.

Tuning out the noise

This is a little bit harder and takes more conscious effort, but I’ve found it helps to focus on my own expectations for myself and not get bogged down by the weight of other people’s opinions. To do this, I keep my priorities at the forefront: my children’s emotional stability and development, the safety and peace of our household. If I start panicking about finances or feeling pressured to say yes to all of the social events, I go back to those priorities and remind myself that I am doing a good job.

I’ve also leaned on research-backed approaches like the Circle of Security Parenting Program, which is a facilitator-led parent training program for understanding attachment theory. It helps remind me that I don’t have to get it right every time—kids just primarily need to feel safe. (The related book, “Raising a Secure Child”, is one I come back to often.)

I can get lost in a rabbit hole of how I “should” show up in the world if I listen to every comment or outside judgement. So coming back to my priorities helps me set boundaries when needed to protect my own peace.

Making time for therapy

At the risk of stating the obvious, therapy really helps, providing something that even the most loving friends and family genuinely cannot: a space where I don’t have to worry about saying the right thing or putting on a brave face. Therapy is, of course, an investment of time and money, but committing to those sessions and regular journaling has given me an invaluable outlet where I can set the Superwoman cape down.

Therapy also taught me how to notice the mental and physical warning signs before they escalate: low energy that doesn’t lift, the creeping social withdrawal, the thoughts that trend relentlessly negative. These are signals that deserve attention, especially in the busy days of parenting.

Penciling in connection for myself—not just my kids

Chatting with a friend who genuinely gets it, not to solve anything but to commiserate over coffee, has been real medicine. While the village helps with logistics, a friend or two who truly understands is something else entirely. Getting together with other divorced moms in my area through The Moonlight Crew means that I now have meaningful adult playdates on the calendar, too.

Giving myself grace

Divorced moms know the pace of life can be intense. Aside from the endless responsibilities, the internal barrage of questions and concerns can easily take over your whole day. Should I try to volunteer for that school field trip? Should I save those moments for my own self-care? How planned ahead are we financially? What questions should I ask my child to learn more about his day?

It can all feel like a lot, especially when you’re navigating it alone.

Just know this: There is nothing broken about you. You don’t have to figure it all out at once. And loneliness shouldn’t be one more item to add to your list of things to solve. Feeling it, processing it, connecting over it—those are all great places to start.