No. 4: What I Thought Marriage Would Be

And What It's Been Instead

I thought marriage would feel like a safe place to land.

I thought it would be a space of shared growth, of softness and repair. I thought that love—especially the kind you commit to—would make room for all of me: the evolving, the emotional, the deep-feeling, the unfinished parts.

I thought that being a wife meant partnership. That it meant being seen.

And for a while, I believed that if I just worked hard enough—on the relationship, on myself, on holding everything together—I could make it feel like what I thought it was supposed to be.

But the truth is, it hasn’t always felt like that.

What It’s Actually Been

Marriage, for me, has been more complex than the story I was handed. It’s been a place where love and emotional labor often traded roles. Where I sometimes felt more like a parent or being managed rather than a partner. Where I learned to tiptoe, to buffer, to over-function—so things wouldn’t fall apart.

It’s been full of moments that look “fine” from the outside but feel hollow on the inside. Moments where my voice felt too loud, or not welcome at all. Where needs were minimized, repair was rare, and emotional safety came second to ego or silence.

I’ve spent years trying to reconcile the gap between what I thought marriage would be—and what it’s been.

And what I’m learning now is this: It’s okay to name that gap. It’s okay to grieve the version I hoped for. It’s okay to want more.

The Unwritten Roles

No one told me how easily the “wife” role could become a job description.

That it could morph into:

– emotional interpreter

– schedule coordinator

– peacekeeper

– caregiver of the caregiver

– the one who makes things work

And as motherhood arrived, another identity layered on: mom, default parent, constant presence. And somewhere beneath those titles, woman—the self, the soul—began to feel blurry and hard to reach.

I don’t share this from a place of blame, but from clarity. From years of trying to twist myself into roles that never fully fit. From the slow recognition that being a good wife or mom can’t come at the cost of being me.

Rewriting the Roles

Now, I’m asking better questions:

• What does partnership actually look like when it’s rooted in mutual care, not performance?

• Who am I beyond what I give?

• What does it mean to be in a relationship with someone—and also stay in relationship with myself?

I don’t have neat answers. I still live in the tension. But I am rewriting the story.

Not erasing what’s been—but reclaiming the parts of myself I abandoned to survive it.

Because I am not just a wife. I am not just a mom. I am not just a woman holding it all together.

I am a whole human being. And I deserve a life that makes space for that.

To anyone else sitting in the space between expectation and reality—your clarity is not a failure. Your longing for more is not too much. It’s your inner voice, returning.

—Stephanie