The End of a Relationship: The Emotional Rollercoaster of Guilt, Anxiety, Relief—and Everything In Between
This post is Part 2 of a 4-part series on navigating divorce as a mom.
If you missed Part 1, you can read it here: Is It the End of Your Relationship? Divorce Support for Moms Who Feel Stuck
What no one tells you about the emotional aftermath of ending a relationship—or even just thinking about it.
Even if you haven’t said the words out loud yet, this article can still be for you.
Maybe you haven’t filed papers.
Maybe you haven’t even spoken the words: “I want a divorce” or “it’s over.”
And yet, your body knows the score: the nausea, the tension, the thoughts that won’t quiet, the exhaustion of being torn between what your heart says and what your head is screaming.
You’re already overwhelmed– even if you are the only one who knows.
From my experience, the hardest part is letting go of the idea that if your relationship fails, you are a failure. That’s a lie based in shame.
Holding all of this is heavy—and what’s even heavier is carrying the guilt that you’re even considering leaving. The “Am I really doing this?” that loops through your brain at 2 a.m. It’s eating you up inside, and the stress of not knowing what direction to take is a lot.
Whether you’ve made the decision or are still stuck in the in-between, this post is for the version of you who feels like she’s coming undone—and doesn’t know how to hold it all.
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The Heaviness of Your Decision
You thought it would feel clearer once you made the decision.
You finally admitted it. Maybe to yourself. Maybe to someone else.
“I don’t want to be in this relationship anymore.”
➡️ (Still unsure if it’s time to end things? You can explore that in Part 1 of this series: “Should I Stay or Go?”)
And yes, the clarity gives you a profound sense of relief, and yet, alongside that, you are overwhelmed with the thoughts of: how do I tell my partner? Will I be okay? Will I be safe? What will happen with the kids?
And as you are thinking all these things through, you may realize that your heart is simultaneously breaking.
Even when something is the right decision, it can still break your heart.
Even when a relationship is painful, abusive, empty, one-sided, whatever the case may be, walking away can feel like you are losing a part of yourself.
It can also mean that you have an opportunity to cultivate parts of yourself that have been dormant or shut down for a long, long time.
Don’t think for one second that you’re doing it wrong if your emotions are all over the place. This is part of it. All of it. The doubt, the sadness, the surprising moments of peace. Let it be messy. Ride the rollercoaster.
And here’s what might surprise you: the mess doesn’t always look like tears and heartbreak. Sometimes it’s snapping at your kid, zoning out in a meeting, or crying over an Instagram reel. Some days you’ll feel steady. Other days, you’ll cry in the shower after the kids are asleep, wondering if you made everything worse. That’s not failure. That’s being human.
The cycle of emotions—whatever they look like—is absolutely okay. Guilt, relief, rage, grief, anxiety, numbness... all of the above. Any and all feelings are welcome here.
As a therapist, I’ve heard a lot:
“This almost feels worse.”
“I know this was the right decision, so why does it feel like I did something wrong?”
“The anger is right there underneath the surface—all the time.”
“I get so worried about the kids, I have a hard time falling asleep.”
This is the emotional fallout that comes after-or sometimes during-the decision.
You may be feeling:
Grief for the future you planned
Guilt about how it’s affecting your kids
Relief that you’re no longer pretending
Rage at everything you tolerated
Anxiety about your financial future, your identity, your kids, your aloneness
Numbness because it’s all too much
And maybe even confusion about how you can feel all of these things at once.
You’re not crazy. You’re not broken. You’re not doing this wrong.
You’re just human, living in the after of a life-altering decision.
Why The Storm Hits So Hard
This kind of emotional fallout often comes when your body is starting to come out of the years you’ve spent in survival mode.
You get to show up as yourself. You are also able to start acknowledging the feelings that you didn’t have time, or safety, to feel before.
What can make it even harder? All the balls of adult life that you’re constantly juggling: work, parenting, managing a household, and keeping a brave face for the kids.
A part of you might even believe you’re supposed to be doing good at this stage. Here’s the truth: healing isn’t linear—and a divorce or the end of a relationship does not come with an instruction manual.
What Helps When You Feel Like You’re Falling Apart
When emotions are coming fast and unfiltered, you don’t need a self-help book. You need something grounding. Something that helps your body feel safe again.
Here are five gentle strategies that can help when everything feels like too much:
1. Anchor into your body.
Put both feet flat on the floor. Name 5 things you can see. 4 you can touch. 3 you can hear. 2 you can smell. 1 you can taste.
It sounds basic—but it helps your body remember it’s safe right now, even if your mind is spinning.
2. Let yourself cry
It’s okay to not always have it together. If you want to wait until you feel safe, that’s okay, but please know that it’s okay to have moments where you are falling apart.
3. Model what vulnerability can look like for your kids.
You don’t have to pretend you’re okay all the time.
Try something like:
“Mom’s feeling a little overwhelmed right now, but I’m okay. I love you, and we’re going to get through this together.”
You’re not damaging them by feeling—you’re showing them how to feel and still stay safe.
4. Keep a reality anchor.
Create a short list somewhere you can find it when you’re spiraling. A sticky note. Your Notes app. Your bathroom mirror. Example:
I’m safe now.
I didn’t leave on impulse—I left on truth.
This won’t feel this raw forever.
I can do hard things.
I’m allowed to want peace.
5. Lower the bar. No, lower than that.
Eat Food. Get your kids McDonald’s. Drink water. Use the microwave. It’s okay for you to not be making 3 meals a day or handling everything exactly right. It’s okay that this time is hard. This isn’t the time to push yourself toward perfection.This is the time to be gentle with yourself while you rebuild.
➡️ Interested in what this looks like? Here’s a post that dives deeper into self-compassion.
For When It All Feels Too Much: A Journaling Invitation
These prompts aren’t about fixing anything.
They’re about making space for what’s already there.
Choose one. Or all. Or none. There’s no wrong way.
What am I grieving today?
What version of me is screaming the loudest right now—and what does she need?
When was the last time I felt connected to myself?
What would it feel like to let the sadness be just sadness—not proof that I made a mistake?
What does safety mean to me now?
You Don’t Have To Hold It All Alone.
This emotional storm doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice.
It means you're human—and something big just broke open.
You are not too much. You are not weak.
You’re learning how to feel again.
How to trust yourself.
How to be present for the life that you want.
Please…keep going. I know this is hard, and I also know that you are capable of handling it. Healing is possible.
For Part 3 of this series, we are going to discuss how to set healthy boundaries with your ex, hold space for all of the messy emotions, and continue to support your children without over-functioning.
It’s important to remember- you don’t have to be perfect through all this- you simply have to keep showing up.
If this post resonated with you—if you're somewhere in the messy middle of all this, trying to make sense of all the emotions—therapy can be a space to sort through it, with support.
I work with women navigating the complex, tender terrain of divorce, identity, and motherhood. If you’re ready to explore a space that’s warm, honest, and truly yours...I’d be honored to be a part of that.
