There are seasons in solo parenting when life feels split open in ways you never expected. Some moments pull you into survival mode so quickly that you barely recognize yourself. Others feel like slow rebuilding, where you learn to steady your breath, find your footing, and trust that healing is actually happening. And then there are rare moments of clarity when you sense that something inside you has shifted, and you are not the same person who began this journey.
This episode matters because the solo parent journey is rarely linear. It is shaped by shock, grief, hope, rebuilding, and rediscovering who you are. Without language for any of it, many parents assume they are failing when they are actually growing. Revisiting the three phases of solo parenting brings clarity to what often feels confusing and compassion to what often feels heavy.
In this rewind, Robert and Elizabeth look back at one of their most meaningful conversations from 2025. Through the stories of three Solo Parent leaders, they explore triage, recovery, and wellness in ways that help solo parents recognize where they are, why that matters, and what growth really looks like.
Key Insights from This Episode
- Naming your phase brings relief and direction. Identifying whether you are in triage, recovery, or wellness helps you respond to yourself with compassion rather than pressure.
- Healing unfolds through the next right step. Progress is found less in big moments and more in steady breaths, honest repair, and the courage to keep going.
- Wellness grows through community and curiosity. It shows up in shorter triage moments, restored stability, and the return of your ability to dream again.
Triage: When Life Is Too Much
Single Parent, Elizabeth Cole, describes triage as the season when life feels like it has collapsed without warning. Everything is swirling. Emotions feel raw. Your body reacts before your mind can make sense of anything. You are showing up for your kids while trying to hold pieces of your life that feel impossibly heavy.
Solo Parent group leader, Cari Baker, reflects on this stage in a profound way. After her daughter revealed years of sexual abuse by Cari’s then-husband, everything changed overnight. She entered a long criminal investigation while caring for three children and managing a life that no longer made sense. The stress showed up physically. She was often sick to her stomach without warning, overwhelmed by the weight of what she was carrying. She learned to live each day behind a calm exterior even though her world was collapsing inside.
Her triage season lasted more than a year. She recognized its end when she and her children finally moved into a place of their own. That moment marked the beginning of a new family identity and gave them enough stability to breathe again.
Looking back, she would tell her younger self something simple: focus on what is directly in front of you. During triage, the big picture is too much to hold. The only sustainable way forward is through small, compassionate steps.
CEO & Founder of Solo Parent, Robert Beeson, reflects on how different Cari is today. When she first joined Solo Parent groups, she logged into Zoom without her camera, using a different name, sitting in shadow because fear still lived in her body. The transformation she has experienced since then is a reminder that triage is not permanent. It is a season, not a sentence.
Recovery: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Recovery begins when you start to find your footing again. The emergencies quiet down. Life becomes a little more predictable. You feel more stable than before, yet still easily overwhelmed. This is the phase where unexpected triggers catch you off guard and where growth is steady but imperfect.
Solo Parent group leader, Andrew Diakos, knows this season well. After a thirteen-year marriage and the long process of separation and divorce, it took nearly two years for court proceedings, schedules, and logistics to settle. When they did, he and his four kids formed a new family rhythm. He was no longer drowning in paperwork and crisis. He was learning how to be a solo father in a world that looked nothing like the one he had imagined.
Around this time, he joined Solo Parent groups and was surrounded by people who understood not just his circumstances but the emotional disorientation that comes with them. He discovered that recovery involves re-learning who you are, where you belong, and how to navigate a life that is both familiar and painfully unfamiliar.
Recovery is also marked by the reality that you still fall back into old patterns. Andrew shares that in stressful moments, the overwhelm can pile up quickly. One child goes one way, the others scatter in different directions, backpacks are missing, lunches are forgotten, and suddenly the emotional load erupts. What used to send him into shame now leads him into repair. He has learned the value of gathering his kids together, naming what happened, apologizing, and offering words of reassurance. It is not perfect, but it is healing.
Elizabeth relates deeply to this phase. Years after her divorce, a song during her drive to the studio triggered unexpected emotion. She remembers how triggers once sent her into days of spiraling. Over time, recovery helped her respond with gentleness. She still felt the ache, but she knew how to move through it without unraveling.
Recovery teaches you that being triggered is not a sign of failure. It is a sign that you are human. And each time you walk yourself through the moment with steadiness instead of shame, you strengthen the person you are becoming.
Wellness: When Hope Becomes Possible Again
Wellness is not the absence of pain. It is the presence of stability. It shows up when you rebuild enough of your life that you feel grounded again. Triggers still happen, but they do not sweep you under in the same way. You can respond rather than react. You can slow down. You can remain present.
For Solo Parent group leader, Lana Craig, wellness showed up through small projects and everyday accomplishments. After losing her husband to cancer and adjusting to life with two boys, she learned skills she never imagined she could handle. One year she learned how to retile her shower with guidance from a friend’s husband. The project took time, patience, and courage, but it restored her sense of capability. Each small step reminded her that she was strong, resourceful, and still growing.
But one of the deepest markers of wellness came when she realized she no longer knew how to dream. Her husband had always been the one who imagined their future. In the years after his death, she focused on survival and structure. When she finally reached out to trusted friends and asked them to help her rediscover her ability to dream, something inside her opened. Together they remembered what she loved, what mattered to her, and what was still possible. With time, she began to imagine a future again.
Elizabeth recognizes this feeling. She remembers seasons when she wanted someone else to tell her which direction to go, because dreaming felt too vulnerable. Over time she learned that dreaming for yourself is not a betrayal of your past or your relationships. It is a sign that healing has taken root.
Robert shares that Solo Parent was born during his own movement into wellness. He wondered whether others would show up if he started a group, and whether he had anything meaningful to offer. What began as a small question grew into a community that now invites solo parents everywhere into healing and support.
This is the beauty of the wellness phase. You begin to ask not only how to survive but how to build a meaningful life again. You recognize that your story is not over, and that it may serve someone else in ways you never expected.
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