1. Single But Married, Together But Alone…
Part of our “As Told To” series.
Meet Lauren, 39. She opens up about feeling single and alone in her marriage.
“I was a married mom but felt like a single one. My husband barely spoke to me, came home late, and acted like I didn’t exist. I managed the kids, the house, the holidays—everything—and still got zero thanks. I even cooked every night, even though I hate cooking. The emotional and practical weight became too much, and I couldn’t understand why I kept over-giving for nothing in return.
Through therapy, I realized I was repeating my childhood dynamic—believing my needs didn’t matter and love had to be earned through self-sacrifice. Leaving was terrifying, but I had to reclaim my self-respect and show my kids something better.” —Lauren Mitchell, Ohio.
Continue reading to explore emotional invisibility and how to break the pattern >>
2. You’re Overly Self-Sufficient and a Master at Self-Soothing Instead of Voicing Your Needs
When you’ve had a terrible day, you automatically retreat to your side of the bed with ice cream and Netflix rather than seeking comfort from your partner. The coping strategies you developed during your single years—calling a friend, taking a solo drive, or drowning your sorrows in a glass of wine and reality TV—remain your go-to responses, as if there isn’t another adult in the house who could potentially offer support. You’ve unconsciously decided that self-reliance is safer than vulnerability, perhaps after previous attempts at connection were met with dismissal or indifference.
Challenge yourself to experiment with small requests for support (also called a “bid,” according to The Gottman Institute)—nothing dramatic, just a “Could you make me tea while I take a shower?” or “I had a rough day, would you mind just listening for five minutes?” Notice your partner’s response, which might surprise you if they’ve simply grown accustomed to your self-sufficiency. If seeking comfort from your spouse feels utterly foreign, start journaling about when and why you stopped turning toward them in times of need. Understanding the moment of disconnection can help rebuild the bridge toward interdependence—that healthy middle ground between isolation and dependence.
3. You Realize ‘Your Friends” Are Really His Friends
Remember those couples you used to invite over for game nights? Somehow, they’ve gradually transitioned into people who just text you directly about plans, automatically assuming your partner won’t be joining. You’ve noticed that you’re habitually answering friendship invitations with “I’ll be there” rather than “We’ll be there,” and nobody raises an eyebrow anymore. Even friends you initially met through your partner now check in with you for updates about both of your lives, knowing you’re the one who’ll actually respond.
Take honest inventory of how this friendship shift happened—was it your partner’s disinterest, your gradual exclusion of them, or mutual withdrawal? Without accusation, invite your partner to reconnect with these social circles: “Jennie asked about you the other day—want to join us for dinner next week?” If they decline, express that maintaining some shared social connections matters to you, and ask if there are other friends or activities they might prefer. Consider cultivating one or two new “couple friendships” together, creating fresh connections without old patterns.
4. You Seek Emotional Processing and Support Outside the Marriage
When something significant happens—whether challenging or exciting—your first instinct is to call your best friend, your sister, or even your mom, but never your spouse. You’ve developed deeply intimate emotional connections with others while maintaining a surprisingly superficial relationship with the person who shares your home. The vulnerability, tears, fears, and authentic joy you readily show friends are carefully hidden from your partner, replaced with an edited highlight reel or, more often, silence.
Begin reintroducing emotional sharing gradually, perhaps starting with lower-stakes positive experiences before moving to heavier topics. Notice if you’re withholding from habit or genuine concern about your partner’s response, and consider stating your needs directly: “I’d like to share more of what I’m feeling with you, but I need to know you’ll listen without immediately trying to fix things.” If your emotional walls have been up for protection after past dismissal or criticism, communicate that clearly: “When I’ve shared feelings before, I’ve felt judged, which is why I’ve stopped.”
5. You Deal With Every Crises Without the Support of a Partner
When your car broke down last month, you called roadside assistance and arranged alternative transportation without even considering contacting your spouse. During health scares, family emergencies, or work disasters, you automatically activate your solo crisis management protocol—calling friends, making decisions, and handling everything yourself. You’ve become so accustomed to self-reliance that it doesn’t even occur to you that facing challenges together is supposedly one of marriage’s benefits.
Next time a minor problem arises, experiment with reaching out to your partner first, even if just to say “This happened, and I wanted to let you know.” Notice your resistance to this simple act—it often reveals how deeply ingrained your go-it-alone approach has become. Have an honest conversation about what kind of support you each need during difficult times, recognizing that your definitions might differ significantly—according to Verywell Mind, this is key. If their past unreliability created this pattern, acknowledge that without accusation: “I’ve gotten used to handling things alone because I wasn’t sure I could count on you, but I’d like that to change.” Remember that rebuilding trust as someone’s emergency contact happens one small crisis at a time.
6. You Know More About Your Spouse From Their Social Media Posts
You discovered your partner’s work promotion through their LinkedIn update, and last week, you learned about their weekend plans from an Instagram story. It feels strangely voyeuristic to gather information about the person across the hall through the same channels as casual acquaintances. You’ve noticed yourself scrolling through their social media to fill in the conversational gaps, piecing together their life like some digital detective rather than someone sharing daily experiences.
Directly (but gently) point out this dynamic: “I noticed I learned about your work project from Facebook instead of from you—that feels strange since we live together.” Create opportunities for casual updates by reinstating rituals like cooking together or evening walks where conversation can unfold naturally. Consider whether you’re also withholding your daily experiences, turning your relationship into a mutual information desert. Sometimes, sharing your own updates first creates a reciprocal dynamic that encourages your partner to do the same. Digital communication has created an unprecedented ability to bypass intimate relationships for validation—actively choosing direct conversation counters this modern drift.
7. You’ve Imaginined Life Without Them and You’d Feel Free and Less Alone
During quiet moments, you find yourself mentally rearranging furniture in a hypothetical solo apartment or calculating whether you could manage financially on your own. These aren’t just fleeting thoughts after arguments—they’re increasingly detailed contingency plans that bring a complex mixture of anxiety and relief. You catch yourself observing happily single friends with curiosity rather than sympathy, wondering if their freedom might actually suit you better than your current half-in, half-out relationship limbo.
Distinguish between escapist fantasies (which everyone has occasionally) and genuinely preparing emotionally for separation—it’s a fine line, according to Cosmopolitan. If these thoughts primarily emerge during difficult periods but dissipate when things improve, they might represent a coping mechanism rather than your true desire. However, persistent visualization of solo life often signals that you’re already emotionally transitioning toward independence. Rather than allowing these thoughts to generate guilt, use them as information about your needs and consider discussing—perhaps with a therapist first—whether those needs could potentially be met within the marriage or whether they’re pointing toward a necessary ending.
8. You Feel Like Roommates in Bed
Your interactions with your partner resemble those with a pleasant roommate—cordial, logistically focused, and emotionally neutral. Physical affection has dwindled to perfunctory gestures, if it exists at all, and sex has either disappeared or become a mechanical exercise rather than a genuine connection. You’ve mastered the art of parallel living—sharing space without sharing yourselves—and the superficial peace this creates feels simultaneously comfortable and profoundly sad.
Recognize that rebuilding intimacy after prolonged disconnection requires courage from both partners and often feels awkward before it feels natural again. Start with non-sexual physical contact—hand-holding, sitting close during TV shows, brief hugs—before attempting to revive your sexual relationship. Create opportunities for vulnerable conversation by asking open questions: “What’s something you’ve been thinking about that we haven’t discussed?” If politeness has become armor against past hurts, acknowledge those directly: “I think we’ve both been keeping things superficial because going deeper felt risky after what happened.” Consider whether this pattern existed before marriage or developed over time—sometimes reconnection requires addressing ignored incompatibilities rather than simply increasing interaction.
9. You Feel Like You’re Performing During Holidays and Celebrations
You go through the motions of special occasions—buying appropriate gifts, preparing traditional meals, and posting smiling photos—while feeling like you’re starring in a carefully choreographed production of “Happy Couple.” The contrast between the external presentation and your internal emptiness becomes particularly painful during times meant for genuine connection. Family gatherings become exercises in maintaining appearances, and you find yourself exhausted by the gap between the relationship you’re portraying and the one you’re actually experiencing.
Consider scaling back holiday performances to create space for potentially authentic connection. Discuss simplifying celebrations to reduce pressure: “What if we focused on just one meaningful tradition instead of trying to do everything?” Sometimes the performative aspects of special occasions actually prevent the intimate moments they’re supposed to facilitate. If maintaining appearances for others has become central to your relationship, explore what would happen if you relaxed those expectations: “I feel like we’re putting on a show rather than actually enjoying each other—what if we did this differently?” For many couples, holidays magnify existing patterns—reducing external pressure sometimes creates space to address the underlying disconnection without the additional stress of cultural expectations.
10. You Stop Using the Word Partner Or Husband
You’ve noticed a subtle shift in how you refer to your partner when talking with friends or family—they’ve become “my husband” rather than using their name, or you describe them in terms of function (“the kids’ dad”) rather than relationship. When recounting weekend activities, you naturally say “I went” rather than “we went,” even for events you technically attended together. Your language has unconsciously adapted to reflect your emotional reality—you’re describing a roommate arrangement rather than an intimate partnership.
Language both reflects and reinforces relationship patterns, making this subtle shift particularly important to address. Challenge yourself to consciously reframe how you speak about your partner, using their name and acknowledging connection even if it feels temporarily inauthentic—sometimes behavioral changes can lead emotional changes rather than the reverse. Notice whether you’ve begun creating completely separate narratives about your life, effectively writing your partner out of your story, and consider what that reveals about your vision of the future. If the roommate dynamic feels solidly established, have an honest conversation about whether this arrangement meets both your needs or whether you’re simply avoiding the difficulty of either reconnecting or separating.
11. Your Calendar Is Separate From Your Partner’s
You’ve stopped checking in before making weekend plans because, frankly, it doesn’t matter—you’ll each do your own thing anyway. The last time you synchronized schedules was probably for a mandatory family event, and even then, you arrived in separate cars “just in case.” Your partner has missed important moments in your life—work promotions, friend gatherings, family birthdays—not because they couldn’t attend, but because you never bothered mentioning these events. The default has become parallel scheduling rather than shared planning.
Start small by instituting a weekly ten-minute calendar check-in, focusing first on practical coordination rather than emotional reconnection. Create at least one standing “date” on the calendar each week, even if it’s just Saturday morning coffee at home—something that doesn’t require elaborate planning but establishes a rhythm of togetherness. If you’ve been deliberately scheduling your life to minimize overlap, ask yourself what you’re avoiding and whether it’s the activities themselves or deeper relationship issues.
12. You Don’t Show Up Authentically In the Relationship
You’ve developed different versions of yourself for different contexts, but ironically, your spouse gets the most filtered, distant version of who you truly are. Your colleagues see your professional passion, your friends witness your unfiltered opinions and dark humor, and maybe even strangers at the gym get more genuine interactions than the person who promised to love you for life. You save your most guarded, polite, and emotionally muted self for home—the exact opposite of what intimate partnership is supposed to provide.
Start by asking yourself when and why you began censoring your authentic self in your marriage—was it after criticism, indifference, or conflict? Experiment with small moments of genuine expression: sharing an unpopular opinion, admitting a fear, or expressing an unfiltered desire without your usual editing process. Notice whether you’re withholding your authentic self as protection or punishment, as both require different approaches to reconnection. If your partner seems surprised by glimpses of your true personality, gently explain that you’ve been presenting a curated version of yourself and would like to change that pattern. Remember that vulnerability is a gradual process after prolonged disconnection—don’t expect to immediately share your deepest self if you’ve been emotionally distant for years.
13. You Even Have to Handle the Financial Load
Your retirement calculations quietly factor in supporting just one person, not two. While you superficially maintain joint finances, you’ve mentally categorized certain accounts or investments as “yours” in the eventual split, and major purchase decisions are filtered through the lens of “would this be worth it if I had to buy out their half?” Any windfall—bonuses, inheritance, tax returns—gets mentally earmarked for your individual security rather than shared dreams, and you find yourself researching financial issues like “individual credit after divorce” while insisting to yourself it’s just for “general knowledge.”
Financial separation often reveals deeper emotional separation that needs addressing before any money conversation can be productive. Consider whether your financial independence stems from healthy boundaries or from profound distrust that needs either resolution or formal recognition. If your marriage is worth saving, initiate honest conversations about money fears: “I’ve noticed I’m making financial decisions as if preparing for independence, and I think that comes from feeling insecure about our future.” For some couples, working with a financial therapist (professionals who address both the practical and emotional aspects of money) provides neutral ground for these challenging discussions. Whether your relationship continues or ends, bringing these implicit financial calculations into explicit awareness allows for intentional choices rather than silent preparation for a future you haven’t acknowledged wanting.
