Love Isn’t Always a Lover: A Single Mom’s Truth About Healing and Holding On

I’ve seen enough relationships fail — mine included — to finally say this without flinching: love isn’t for the faint of heart. And as a single parent, it’s a completely different battlefield. One that demands not just courage, but clarity.

Being a single parent changes the way you love. It sharpens you. Softens you in places you didn’t know existed. You don’t just give love anymore — you carry it, you protect it, you ration it wisely because there are little humans depending on you to get it right this time.

There are, in my eyes, two types of single parents.

First, the fulfilled ones — the kind who’ve found their rhythm. They’ve rebuilt themselves. They enjoy their solitude, not out of bitterness, but from peace. They don’t need another person to complete them because they’ve done the work of becoming whole — not perfect, but whole. That’s me, most days. I came as a package, and so anyone who dared step into my life needed to be ready to be a father figure, not just a lover. That’s probably why I never dated again after walking away from the father of my children.

Then there’s the other kind — the ones who feel like something’s missing. They scroll endlessly, swipe restlessly, attend every gathering, always on the lookout for “the one” — not always out of love, but fear. Fear of ending up alone. Fear of not being chosen again. Fear of being left behind while others post anniversary dinners and hand-in-hand beach walks.

Both types love hard. Both give their all. But the difference is this: one seeks someone to share their life with. The other, unknowingly, asks someone to fill a void. And that’s the kind of pressure no relationship can hold.

If there’s anything I’ve learned — from failed love, from raising kids alone, from picking up the shattered pieces of myself — it’s this: you cannot expect someone to fix what you haven’t healed. You have to be authentically you. If you’re still broken, hurting, unsure — then don’t date. Heal. Grow. Become. Because the love single parents hold? It’s not desperate. It’s deep. It’s protective. It’s instinctual. It’s love with eyes wide open.

Sometimes, it’s just easier to fall for someone who’s walked a similar path. Another single parent. Someone who gets why you can't do spontaneous 2AM calls or drop everything for a date night. You both know the struggle. The sacrifice. The priority. But even then, there’s still fear — What if the kids don’t like them? What if it doesn’t work? What if I bring another heartbreak into my home?

So many “what ifs” that you end up staying in the safe zone — dating, but never committing. Loving, but never leaping. Because this time, it’s not just your heart on the line. It’s your children's too.

And then I realized: love doesn’t always have to come from a lover.

Sometimes, love is that one friend who shows up for you every time life breaks you. The one who listens. Who helps with the kids. Who brings laughter back into your life without asking for anything in return. It can be your sister, your best friend, your tribe. Love isn’t always romantic. Marriage or remarriage isn’t the only path to happiness, and certainly not the only version of forever.

Some of us don’t dream of walking down the aisle again. I never have — though I’ll admit, the thought crosses my mind every now and then. And that’s okay. Entertaining the idea doesn’t mean it’s what I truly want. Because more than the dress, the vows, or the photos, what I long for is peace. Stability. Mornings with quiet coffee and no anxiety. A home filled with laughter, not tension. Children who grow up knowing their worth — surrounded by real, steady love, even if it doesn’t come in the form of two people holding hands on a couch. What matters to me now is having someone who brings calm to my chaos — not to fix me, not to complete me, but simply to be my peace in a world I hold together every single day.

What truly matters is how you define your own forever.

It’s what will matter when you’re old and gray, lying on your deathbed, thinking back. You won’t count how many relationships you had or whether someone put a ring on your finger again. You’ll think of the moments that made you feel safe, seen, and truly loved — however they came. I’ve realized there’s no perfect formula. There’s no relationship blueprint that guarantees forever — whether you’re single, separated, a parent, or not. These days, what truly matters is quality of life.

Instead of constantly searching for someone new, take a moment to appreciate who's already around you. Sometimes, the love and support you need are closer than you think. But if your circle feels more like a battlefield than a place of peace — walk away. You don’t have to pretend to be okay just to fit in. You don’t owe anyone a watered-down version of yourself.

There will be people who accept you — fully, messily, beautifully — just as you are. And that kind of love? The one that sees the real you and stays? That’s the best feeling of all. Love is beautiful. But it’s also scary. It can build you, but it can also break you down to nothing. So if you’re going to try again, make sure you know who you are and what you want — because the right love won’t complete you, it will elevate you.

And if you never find it again? You’re still whole. Still worthy. Still enough.

From one single parent to another — we love differently, and that’s our superpower.