Stepmom Epiphanies

Going through the fifth stage of grief—Depression—can become so dark that eventually you feel the need to change something, anything, just to get out of it somehow.

For me, that meant sitting in my despair night after night, usually after emotionally drinking a bottle of wine and/or emotionally eating, feeling worse than the day before and growing increasingly desperate for anything that might make me feel better. This is also when reality begins to hit. You start to realize that living this deep in darkness and depression is affecting every part of your life—and that it simply isn’t sustainable.

For me, that realization came in painful ways. It was the moment I began to dread work, which I normally loved. And it was the moment my daughter cried to me and told me how miserable she felt at my house, how she no longer looked forward to being with me because things felt so toxic, and how much anxiety it was causing her. That was a wake-up call I couldn’t ignore.

When you reach this point—when you start actively searching for ways to get out of this terrible place—you’ve entered Stage 6 of grief: Testing.

Testing was a hit-or-miss stage for me. I wanted to get better, so I tried different things. Sometimes they worked and I felt relief, even if only briefly. Then something would happen—with my husband, the kids, the exes, or extended family—and suddenly I felt like I was right back at square one. The anger and depression would crash back in, hard, until I reached my breaking point again and tried something else.

The Testing phase can look like many things: joining a support group, picking up a hobby, trying techniques from stepfamily books, journaling, therapy, meditation, joining online stepmom forums, spending time with friends, practicing more self-care, and more. Some things help. Some don’t. And some help only for a while.

The good news is that this stage quietly sets the groundwork for the final phase of grief: Stage 7, Acceptance.

Acceptance of someone dying is one thing—there is no bringing that person back. But acceptance of a painful situation that has broken you in ways you never imagined is something entirely different. So what, exactly, am I accepting?

I am accepting who I am now, and the reasons behind it.
I am accepting that I have a new life, with new roles and new responsibilities—something much harder to process because it’s abstract, emotional, and ongoing.

But let me be very clear: acceptance does not mean resigning myself to unhealthy or harmful parts of my life. Acceptance means reminding myself every morning—and throughout the day—that I need the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

It is the acceptance of my life as a mom and stepmom to four amazing kids who have all been hurt over the last few years by a divorce that was not their fault. It is the acceptance of being a second wife to the love of my life—the man I want to grow old with and one day look back with and say we survived things we never thought we would.

At the end of the day, I’ve had to learn to accept—daily—that I cannot control the kids’ grieving process over losing their first family unit; the unresolved anger and pain of our exes; or my husband’s perceptions and ways of processing things. I have had to accept that the only person I can control is myself.

And when I finally realized that I was often my own worst enemy—and also the only person who could change how I viewed my world, how I approached and understood my children (both bio and step), and how I responded to my husband, who was going through his own version of hell—my life truly began to change.

Acceptance of my new life, and how I can show up in it as a better version of myself—a better wife, a better mom, and a better stepmom—is how I began the slow process of healing the hurt, pain, and unrealistic expectations I carried at the beginning of all this.

---

Final Thoughts

Over the last two weeks, I’ve shared my experience of moving through the seven stages of grief. And I’ll be honest—I’m still moving through them. Becoming a stepmom and second wife has been, and still is, the hardest thing I have ever done.

The difference now is that I keep moving forward.

Yes, life throws curveballs, and sometimes they knock me right back into shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing, and eventually acceptance again. You may experience these stages in different orders, at different times, and with different intensity.

But each time I move through them, it feels like a win.

As I grow in my role, learn to accept my life more fully, and practice gratitude, the stages become shorter and lighter. They no longer consume me the way they once did.

So take heart, my friend. This takes time. But if you stick with it, there is so much that makes the pain and the bad days worth it.

For me, it’s hearing my son and his son chasing each other down the hallway, begging for five more minutes of “boy talk” before bed. It’s seeing my daughter and his daughter giggling and texting each other even when we’re apart. It’s all six of us piled together after pizza night, watching a movie and slowly exhaling.

And sometimes, it’s a quiet Saturday morning—when the house is just beginning to stir—and I wake up wrapped in my husband’s arms, feeling his smile and knowing how grateful we both are that we survived the biggest storms.