5 Lies Parents Tell Themselves About Divorce, And the Pain Kids Don’t Say Out Loud

We think we’re protecting them. But what if we’re just avoiding the truth?

You tell yourself it’s not that bad.

You don’t scream. You don’t slam doors. You go to work, pack lunches, and keep the machine running.

But late at night, something aches. Maybe it’s loneliness. Or the quiet grief of watching the distance grow. Maybe you wonder what your kids really see, what they’re quietly learning from all of this.

This isn’t about blame. It’s about honesty. Because sometimes the lies we tell ourselves, the ones that sound noble, selfless, and responsible, are the very ones that keep us stuck.

“They’ll Be Better Off if We Stay Together”

This one feels selfless. Like love, even if it’s frayed, still has a job to do.

But kids can feel what we try to hide. The emotional distance. The tension in the air. The version of “together” that feels more like a survival tactic than a genuine connection.

One adult who watched her parents’ divorce unfold before her eyes told me,
“I used to pray they’d just split up. At least then we could all breathe again.”

🌀 Reflection: What kind of “together” are my kids actually experiencing right now?

“They Don’t Know What’s Going On”

We like to believe we’ve hidden it well. But kids are intuitive. They pick up on silence. On sarcasm. On the way, one of you always leaves the room when the other walks in.

And when no one explains it, they invent reasons. Usually ones that make them feel responsible.

“I thought maybe if I were easier to handle, they’d stop fighting,” said another adult who experienced her parents’ divorce as a teenager.

🌀 Reflection: What might my kids be sensing that I’m not naming out loud?

“I’m Hiding the Tension Pretty Well”

We get good at functioning. We show up, say the right things, and avoid conflict. But tension doesn’t disappear. It just shifts form.

🌀 Reflection: What parts of me feel worn down from pretending it’s okay?

“I’m Protecting Them from Pain”

No one wants to be the one who brings pain into their child’s life. Divorce feels like failure. But so does asking your child to grow up in a home where connection is gone.

I’ve also heard this from another adult in reflection:
“When they finally split, I cried. But I also felt lighter. I could finally exhale.”

🌀 Reflection: What pain are my kids already carrying in silence?

“It’s Too Late to Make a Healthy Change”

We held on too long. I know that now. Could we both have worked on it? Absolutely. There were moments. Chances. We missed them. Or we weren’t motivated enough.

But when you’ve been treading water for years, change feels impossible. You forget that peace is still an option.

I’m not saying divorce should be the first solution. Relationships take work. But if only one person is willing, if there’s no shared vision for the future, it might be time to stop trying to fix something that no longer wants to be whole.

🌀 Reflection: If I stopped telling myself “it’s too late,” what might be possible instead?

Here’s what I’ve come to believe.

And maybe the most honest thing is this.

You’ve tried. You’ve held it together. You’ve done the quiet work no one sees. And maybe now, you’re starting to see that something needs to shift.

Our marriage ran five years too long. That’s just the truth of it.
Could we have worked on it together? Absolutely. There were windows. There were chances. And we missed some of them.

Sometimes it feels easier to walk away from something that isn’t working. Sometimes it actually is. We were different people, moving in different directions, holding different hopes.

That’s not to say divorce should be the first move when things get hard. Every relationship will hit rough patches. But staying only works when both people are still motivated to try. When both still see a future they want to build.

It’s also okay to admit you made a mistake. That you tried something with hope, and it didn’t turn out how you imagined. That doesn’t make you a failure. It makes you human. As adults navigating this journey, we hold an immense amount of shame. I know I did.

Your kids don’t need a perfect home. They need a true one. One where peace is possible, and pretending isn’t the norm.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do for them, and ourselves, is to stop pretending. And walk away being grateful that our union created three amazing individuals.