A few days ago, I found myself standing in a grocery store thinking about a version of myself I barely recognize anymore.

It wasn't because anything significant happened. It wasn't an anniversary. Nobody said anything that triggered a memory. I was simply standing in an aisle when my mind drifted back nearly fifteen years to one of the hardest periods of my life.

Back then, I was a young single mother trying to raise two daughters while navigating two completely different co-parenting relationships. I was constantly exhausted, constantly worried, and constantly trying to figure out how to make everything work. Most days felt like a balancing act between paying bills, raising children, working, and managing stress that nobody else could see.

As I stood there remembering those years, I realized something I hadn't thought about before.

When people ask me about co-parenting, I never really know how to answer.

Because my answer is both.

I've experienced co-parenting that felt supportive and cooperative. I've also experienced co-parenting that felt frustrating, stressful, and emotionally draining. I've lived both extremes, and because of that, I learned that co-parenting isn't nearly as black and white as people make it seem.

My oldest daughter, Kaylee, gave me my first experience with co-parenting. Looking back now, I realize how fortunate I was. Her father and I certainly weren't perfect, but we shared a common goal. We wanted what was best for our daughter.

When Kaylee needed something, he helped.

When I struggled financially, he stepped in when he could.

When she was little and repeatedly battled pneumonia, he helped make sure she had the nebulizer machine she needed. There were times he paid more than what was required because he understood that raising a child isn't about technicalities. It's about making sure that child's needs are met.

At the time, I thought that was normal.

I thought that's what co-parenting looked like for everyone.

Then life introduced me to a very different reality.

When Hayden was born, my experience with co-parenting changed dramatically. To be fair, it wasn't always difficult. In the beginning, there were good moments. Her father loved her, and even today I can honestly say that I never doubted that love. What became difficult wasn't his relationship with Hayden. It was the relationship between the two of us.

Sometimes relationships end peacefully.

Sometimes they don't.

Sometimes hurt feelings linger longer than anyone expects.

Sometimes resentment finds its way into conversations that should have been about the child.

Looking back now, I think that's what happened to us.

For years, it felt like every conversation turned into a disagreement. Every disagreement became a battle. Every battle became another source of stress that I carried home with me.

At one point, I remember being told that maybe I needed psychiatric help and should be committed. Did I need help at different points in my life? Absolutely. I've never been shy about talking openly about my mental health journey. But as a young mother at the time, the suggestion felt less like concern and more like fear. I worried that if I sought help for my struggles, it could somehow be used against me and threaten my relationship with my daughter.

That fear stayed with me for a long time.

Another dream I quietly packed away during those years was returning to school to become a dental hygienist. I wanted a better career. I wanted more financial stability. I wanted opportunities that might create a better future for my girls. But every major decision felt complicated. I worried that if I worked more, went to school, or focused on improving my circumstances, it could somehow be interpreted as putting my children second.

So I stayed where I was.

I kept cutting hair.

I continued working a job I genuinely loved, but one that didn't provide much financial security while raising two children alone.

At the time, I was making roughly $28,000 a year.

Anyone who has ever raised children knows that's not a lot of money.

There were years when survival was the goal.

Not comfort.

Not luxury.

Not vacations.

Just survival.

I remember one period in particular when I worked two jobs because I simply didn't know what else to do. During the day, I worked in a salon from nine until two. Then I would leave there and head straight to a manufacturing job that kept me working until eleven at night.

For a short period of time, Kaylee stayed with my grandmother while Hayden stayed with her father because I was working nearly every waking hour.

I told myself it was temporary.

I told myself that if I just worked hard enough, eventually I would get ahead.

Instead, I burned myself out.

There comes a point where exhaustion catches up with you. No amount of determination can outrun being physically, mentally, and emotionally depleted. Eventually, I had to accept that I couldn't keep living that way.

We weren't going to get ahead overnight.

We were simply going to struggle for a while.

And honestly, I think that's a reality many single parents understand.

One thing people rarely talk about is how lonely single motherhood can feel. Not because you're physically alone, but because you're carrying the weight of so many responsibilities by yourself. You're the one remembering doctor's appointments, filling out school forms, buying groceries, scheduling haircuts, attending conferences, arranging transportation, and making decisions.

You become the default parent.

The parent who knows the teacher's name.

The parent who knows the clothing size.

The parent who knows which medication needs refilled.

The parent who gets the phone call when something goes wrong.

For years, that responsibility largely fell on me.

One of the biggest struggles between Hayden's father and me involved child support. There were years when payments weren't being made consistently, and the amount owed continued growing. Eventually, the total reached around $10,000.

What frustrated me wasn't even the money itself.

It was the principle behind it.

Children cost money.

Food costs money.

School supplies cost money.

Clothing costs money.

Activities cost money.

Parents create children together, and I've always believed the responsibility should be shared whenever possible.

To be fair, there were times when I dropped child support cases and tried giving him opportunities to help voluntarily. I genuinely wanted us to figure things out without court involvement. Unfortunately, those attempts usually brought me right back where I started.

Back in court.

Back explaining why support matters.

Back hoping someone in the system would actually help.

The family court system is complicated, and while I know it helps many families, there were moments when it felt incredibly frustrating. It often seemed like consequences came slowly, if they came at all. Meanwhile, life kept moving, and the children still needed to be fed, clothed, and cared for.

One of the most terrifying moments happened when Hayden was kept from me for a week. There wasn't a custody order in place at the time, which left me feeling completely powerless. As a mother, few feelings compare to not knowing when you'll see your child again.

Eventually, I obtained full custody.

I cannot adequately describe the relief that brought.

Not because I wanted control.

Not because I wanted to "win."

Because I wanted stability.

I wanted certainty.

I wanted to know that my daughter would always come home.

Despite all of the challenges, I think it's important to say something that often gets lost when people tell these stories.

Loving your child and co-parenting well are not always the same thing.

I never doubted that Hayden's father loved her.

Not once.

He spent time with her.

He created memories with her.

He taught her things I couldn't teach her.

In fact, some of the things I wanted for Hayden came specifically from having her father in her life.

I bought the dolls, crafts, books, and art supplies.

He introduced her to tools, projects, and experiences that I probably never would have.

The problem was never whether he loved her.

The problem was that we viewed parenting very differently.

As Hayden grew older, another challenge emerged. We viewed mental health through completely different lenses. When Hayden began struggling emotionally, I felt strongly that she needed support. Watching your child battle mental health challenges is one of the most helpless experiences a parent can endure. There is no manual for it. No roadmap. No guarantee you're making the right decisions.

There is only love and the hope that you're doing enough.

When Hayden eventually needed inpatient treatment, it reinforced something I already knew.

Children don't need perfect parents.

They need parents who are willing to listen, learn, advocate, and show up.

Looking back now, I don't think either co-parenting experience was entirely good or entirely bad.

One taught me what support looks like.

The other taught me resilience.

One showed me how much easier parenting can feel when two people work together.

The other showed me just how strong a mother can become when she has no choice but to keep going.

Most of all, both experiences taught me that parenting isn't about winning battles with each other. It's about loving your children enough to keep showing up, even when life becomes messy.

And if there is one thing those years taught me, it's that strength isn't always loud. Sometimes strength looks like another shift at work. Sometimes it looks like another court appearance. Sometimes it looks like crying in your car before walking into a school meeting. Sometimes it looks like getting out of bed when you're exhausted and doing it all over again.

When I look at my daughters today, I don't think about court dates or child support disputes. I don't think about arguments, legal paperwork, or the years spent worrying.

I think about two incredible young women.

I think about how hard we all worked to get here.

And I think about something I wish I could tell the younger version of myself standing in that grocery store all those years ago:

You're doing better than you think you are.

Keep showing up.

One day, they'll see it too.

~Tj🩷