You've probably had the thought a hundred times, maybe while washing dishes, or lying awake at 2am while he sleeps soundly beside you. Is this fixable? Or am I just fooling myself? And then, almost immediately, the guilt rushes in. Because you love your kids. Because you made a vow. Because leaving sounds like blowing up everything you've built, and staying sounds like slowly disappearing.

If that feels familiar, I want you to know, I understand that particular kind of exhausted. Not just tired from the mental load of motherhood, but tired from carrying a question you can't put down and can't fully answer.

One of the most painful misconceptions I see is the belief that you should eventually get a clear sign. That one day, something will happen, or won't happen, and you'll finally know. So you wait. You look for evidence to confirm what you already feel, or to talk yourself out of it. You research divorce statistics at midnight and then close the tab because it's too much. You wonder if you're overreacting, or not reacting enough.

Here's what I've come to understand, both personally and in my work: ambivalence isn't a sign that you haven't figured it out yet. It's often a sign that you're holding two very real, very legitimate things at once. The love that's still there. And the loneliness that's also still there. Both of those things can be true at the same time, and that coexistence doesn't mean you're confused or weak. It means you're human.

The problem is that our culture doesn't give us good language for this. We're taught that love is enough, or that it isn't. That you stay, or you go. But most women I talk with are living somewhere in the middle of that, and the middle is exhausting precisely because there's no script for it.

When you can't stop going back and forth, it's usually not because you lack information. You probably know your marriage better than anyone. What's harder to access is what you actually feel, underneath the fear, underneath the guilt, underneath the what will people think and the what will this do to my kids.

There's a practice I come back to, something simple but not easy: instead of asking yourself what should I do, try asking what am I most afraid of? Just sit with that for a moment. Not to fix it. Just to hear it.

For some women, the answer is "I'm afraid of being alone." For others, it's "I'm afraid I'll regret this." Or "I'm afraid I'll stay out of fear and resent everyone for it." Whatever comes up, that fear is telling you something real. It's not the whole picture, but it's a thread worth following.

Another reframing that I've found genuinely useful: instead of treating this as a decision to get right, try treating it as information to gather. What does it feel like in your body when you imagine staying? What does it feel like when you imagine leaving? Not what you think you should feel. What you actually notice. Tight chest, lighter breathing, dread, relief. Our bodies often know things we haven't let ourselves think out loud yet.

There's something I believe pretty firmly: the version of you that's been white-knuckling this question by yourself, usually while managing kids and work and everyone else's needs, deserves actual support. Not just a good podcast or another article. Real support.

Therapy isn't about someone telling you to stay or leave. It's about helping you get clear on what you actually feel and need, sometimes for the first time in years. It's about slowing down enough to hear yourself. And honestly? That clarity matters regardless of what you ultimately decide. A woman who knows what she feels and why is better equipped for any path forward, whether that's rebuilding something with her partner or making a hard but honest choice to move on.

Summertime can feel like a strange season to focus on something this heavy, especially with kids home and schedules shifting. But I've noticed it's also when the noise of everyday life gets loud enough that the quieter, harder truths get easier to ignore. Sometimes that's exactly when it's worth paying attention.

If any of this resonated with you, I'd love to connect. You don't have to have it figured out before you reach out. That's kind of the whole point.