To the Stepmom Who Is Carrying More Than Her Share

Maybe today you’re trying to smile through gritted teeth. Maybe you're driving carpool or folding laundry or making financial sacrifices, and inside you’re wondering, "How did I end up here—doing all of this, loving this hard, and still feeling unseen or rejected?" Maybe you’re exhausted from trying to hold it all together. Maybe you’re grieving the version of yourself that used to feel softer, lighter, more whole...

If that’s you… I want you to know I’ve been there. I see you. And I wrote this for you—the stepmom who is showing up every day, even when it’s hard, even when the people you’re showing up for don’t fully understand the weight you're carrying.

This is also for the stepmom who messed up. Who said something she regrets. Who was tired and it showed. Who’s carrying resentment she doesn’t want, but doesn’t know how to release. This is for the stepmom who’s ready to reset—but isn’t sure where to start.

Your pain, your anger, your deep sense of injustice—it’s all valid. You are not wrong for feeling this way. And you're not the only stepmom who has found herself in this gut-wrenching position—doing the work, carrying the weight, showing up over and over again, only to be met with distance, distrust, or rejection. It doesn't make sense. It feels like betrayal. It feels unfair. Because it is.

But here's the thing: this isn’t just about logic or fairness. This is about attachment.

Your stepkid(s) are still in survival mode. They are navigating the very confusing terrain of growing up while also trying to make sense of a paternal figure who is unhealthy—unreliable, erratic, and even abusive at times.

And here you are: steady, grounded, safe. And sometimes? That kind of safety feels threatening to a child whose nervous system has gotten used to chaos. The body wants to defend the parent who causes the pain, not because it makes sense, but because it needs to believe the parent is still safe… even when they're not.

So what do they do? They push against you, the safe one. Because deep down, some part of them knows you’ll still be there. They can push against you because you are the safe one.

This is one of the hardest, most brutal truths of step-parenthood, especially when you're loving a child through the trauma another adult has caused: you will often absorb the pain that was never yours to begin with. And it will feel personal, even though it isn’t.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t get to have your own feelings about it. You are allowed to grieve. You are allowed to be angry. You are allowed to say, “This isn’t fair.” And you are allowed to let yourself feel those feelings without dumping them onto the kid who’s acting out, even when you want to shout your truth at the top of your lungs. Even when every fiber of your being wants to tell them the whole story. DON’T. Eventually they will know the truth, especially the truth about how that toxic parent twisted the truth. The truth will always come out in the end.

If you’re ready to hit RESET, keep reading.

1. Create a password-protected space where you can VENT.

I have a private journal that’s locked with a password, and it has held every single one of my raw feelings over the past five years. I promise you, it helps.

Write down every single thing you’re feeling—uncensored. Use the words you really want to use. Rant. Rage. Grieve. Validate yourself privately in that space.

2. Let this anger lead you to your own boundaries.

Ask yourself: What do I need to let go of? What am I carrying that isn’t mine? Maybe you need to stop overcompensating. Maybe you need more breaks. Maybe you need space to be sad, without trying to fix anyone else’s mood or earn their love.

Here are a few practical boundaries I practice:

• No direct communication with a high-conflict ex.
  → Let your partner be the one to communicate. Use an app like TalkingParents to keep all communication documented and emotionally neutral.

• Don’t waste your energy trying to prove anything.
  → When misinformation is being spread or you’re being blamed unfairly, remember: truth doesn’t need a defense when you’re living it. Let your actions speak. Let her unravel herself.

• Don't justify your boundaries.
  → “No” is a full sentence. You don’t have to explain your decisions. Especially when your words will be twisted.

• Release yourself from the role of “fixer.”
  → You can love your stepkids deeply without trying to be their therapist, their protector, their emotional regulator, and their hero …. You are one person. Be one person. Be yourself.

Boundaries are not walls. They’re doors with locks. They open for those who respect you and stay closed to protect your peace. It’s a simple concept, but I know it can be hard to practice… I’m writing this as a reminder to myself as well.

3. Ritualize your grief.

This might sound strange, but it can be powerful. Light a candle. Burn a letter. Go on a walk and speak your grief aloud.

Embracing your grief and finding a safe way for it to express itself and be released is so cathartic. In the past, I wrote letters to abusers that I never sent to them—I read them to my therapist, and we found creative ways to ritualize a release of that pain. In the process of blending a family and dealing with the challenges that come with it, I have found new ways of releasing the grief I’ve felt.

When you let yourself release some of the rage, it doesn’t take root in your body.

4. Disengage in order to reset.

I know it feels like you can’t be human. The bio mom can be totally human, even neglectful and abusive and the kids will make excuses for her (because they are trauma-bonded with her) but no one makes excuses for you when you mess up. There doesn’t seem to be any room for error when it comes to being a stepmom. 

You’ve been carrying so much—silently, steadily, for so long, and maybe some of that pain leaked out in the way you spoke. Maybe you were short, reactive, distant. Maybe you said something you wish you could take back. But listen closely: This doesn’t mean it’s over. It means you’re tired. It means you’re stretched. It means you need some space to breathe. Disengaging isn’t quitting. It’s resetting. It’s honoring that you matter too.

And the best part? You can begin again. You can apologize with humility. You can model repair. You can say, “I messed up,” and give yourself grace even if no one else does. You don’t have to be perfect—you CAN’T be. But you CAN be healthy and model what a healthy adult looks like when you are taking care of yourself first.

As long as you are breathing, it’s never too late to start over. 

5. Get rooted in who you are so you don’t internalize their rejection.

Repeat this truth to yourself daily: “Their rejection of me is not a reflection of my worth. It is a reflection of their pain.”

Remember that their reactions and actions of distrust and rejection are not about you. It’s about what you represent.

If the first marriage had worked out, you wouldn’t even be here. If the first marriage had been healthy and loving these kids would never have a stepmom.

You represent change. You represent a new season. You’re the mom of the new house. You’re the one taking kids to appointments and showing up at school. You’re the one who learned how to do hair when the other mom wasn’t around. You’re the one showing up, sacrificing, loving—and yet, that’s rarely recognized. 

Being a stepmom is one of the hardest jobs there is. You take the brunt of pain you didn’t cause.

This is why you have to remember WHO YOU ARE. And you have take care of yourself. When you are secure in who you are, you’re more free to let them — as Mel Robbins has taught us. Let them say what they say. Let them do what they do. Let them! And LET YOU be free. Be kind to yourself. 

Keep doing the work. Keep breaking cycles. Keep showing up. While it’s not your job to fix the damage someone else caused, you are still leaving a legacy—one of consistency, grace, and unconditional love. And that is what will stand the test of time.