My two daughters have faced significant challenges recently. Just a few months before the pandemic altered our lives, their father and I had separated and initiated divorce proceedings. Our cherished library was shut down, and our favorite parks were cordoned off with yellow tape. With no playdates or visits from friends, we found ourselves in the sweltering Arizona heat without a pool or splash pad.
I held onto the hope that schools would reopen in the fall of 2020 — some did, but not in our area. Living near downtown Phoenix, in a community that is particularly vulnerable, our schools remained closed. My eldest had been eagerly anticipating starting kindergarten, asking questions about her future teacher, the school bus, and whether she would get to have lunch with her sister. But even that milestone was taken away, along with the family unit that once thrived in our lovely home.
We relocated from our peaceful neighborhood to the bustling heart of downtown, with their dad keeping the dog and me taking the cat. Despite being on friendly terms post-divorce, we realized we had disrupted our daughters’ sense of stability. We could either apply a temporary fix to our situation, which would only deepen the underlying issues, or we could face the reality of our situation and focus on healthier healing. Ultimately, we chose divorce.
Had I known that this decision would lead to my daughters losing access to parks, playdates, and school, I might have hesitated. But I’m grateful we filed before the pandemic; it might have led us to cling to a broken relationship in hopes of avoiding pain.
However, guilt soon consumed me. I found myself saying “yes” to everything — more ice cream, treats before bed, and extra screen time. I transformed from a parent into a circus ringleader. This was hard for all of us. The world was in turmoil, and so was our family. It was chaotic and painful, and while I don’t regret indulging my daughters during that time, I knew it was time to shift our dynamic.
As we began to find our footing, I recognized that I needed to reclaim my authority as a parent. I wrote letters to myself and to my daughters, honoring our journey and the struggles we had faced. This reflection allowed me the mental space to reassemble the pieces that had fallen apart. Just as I had made the tough choice to leave an unhealthy marriage, I needed to embrace the discomfort of parenting more intentionally.
I had to accept that saying “no” and setting boundaries were essential for their long-term well-being, even if it meant they felt uncomfortable. Discomfort is a vital part of growth — it’s how we evolve and become stronger individuals. After all, isn’t it through hardship that we learn and thrive?
I realized that my job as a parent isn’t to prioritize their immediate happiness but to foster their resilience. I wanted to raise independent adults unafraid of facing their own challenges.
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