There comes a moment, after the divorce papers are signed, after the ministry ends, after the house is sold, when you no longer recognize the person staring back at you.

Not because you’re broken beyond repair. But because you’re standing in the ruins of everything that once defined you.

You were the partner. The provider. The fixer. The faithful one. The helper. The doer.

Now, all of that is gone. And what’s left feels uncertain. Fragile. Unfamiliar.

This is what identity collapse looks like. And it’s one of the hardest things solo parents face, not just grieving the loss of relationships or routines, but grieving who you thought you were.

So what do you do when the person you used to be is no longer there to lean on?

The roles you played were real, but they were never the whole story

After her marriage fell apart and her family lost nearly everything, Trisha Davis, who co-founded RefineUs Ministries with her husband Justin, began to confront some hard truths about who she was and what she’d been carrying. Her identity hadn’t just been wounded. It had been misplaced for years, buried beneath the labels of “pastor’s wife,” “ministry leader,” and “good Christian woman.”

Those weren’t just roles. They were ways of staying anchored. But when those titles were stripped away, she felt unmoored. And that’s what so many solo parents experience after crisis.

You wake up and wonder: If I’m not their spouse anymore… if I’m not part of that community… if I’m not needed in the same way… then who am I?

But Trisha discovered something in the rubble: rock bottom, as it turns out, is solid ground. There’s grief there, yes. But also something else. Stillness. Space. An invitation to ask the question that gets buried in busyness: “Who am I when I’m not performing?”

This isn’t just about self-reflection. It’s about survival. Because if you keep trying to build a life on roles that no longer fit, you’ll keep collapsing under the weight of them.

The roles were real. The loss is real. But you are more than what you’ve lost.

Start with what still feels true, and let that be enough for now

When your sense of self has been shaken, the instinct is often to fix it fast. To grab a new title, throw yourself into another relationship, or double down on responsibilities to prove you’re still valuable.

But rushing to redefine yourself can do more harm than good. Instead, the invitation is to pause. To notice. To return to what’s simple and true.

For Trisha, it started with the most basic statements. I am kind. I am resilient. I like Diet Coke.

It sounds lighthearted, even silly, but it’s not. When you’ve lost your place in the world, remembering who you are on a core level is not a luxury. It’s oxygen. These aren’t mantras to manifest a better future. They’re grounding truths you can stand on when everything else feels shaky.

You don’t need to create a whole new identity today. You just need to get reacquainted with yourself.

What are the things you’ve always loved? What makes you feel alive, even a little? What values still matter to you? These questions aren’t pressure. They’re doorways.

You’re not trying to reinvent yourself. You’re learning how to return to yourself.

You are not the sum of your shame

One of the most paralyzing parts of losing your identity is the shame that creeps in when you realize you played a part in your own pain.

Justin Davis described this as the moment he realized that giftedness, his ability to lead, communicate, and succeed, had masked the deeper work of character development. When things began to unravel, it wasn’t just external pressure that took him out. It was an internal disconnect.

He started to recognize a pattern: friendships that faded, jobs that didn’t last, cycles of frustration and blame. Eventually, he had to face the most painful truth: “I’m the common denominator here.”

But that wasn’t the end of the story. That was the beginning of healing.

He didn’t stay in shame. Instead, he got curious. He asked when these patterns began. He remembered a moment from high school, an innocent-seeming interaction with his dad that planted a seed of deceit. A moment that taught him it was okay to hide.

By naming that wound, he reclaimed his agency. And that’s the key. The goal isn’t to avoid all mistakes or stay squeaky clean. It’s to stop hiding and start healing.

You’re not the sum of your shame. You’re the person willing to look it in the eye and say, “You don’t get the final word.”

Surrender isn’t weakness…it’s what makes rebuilding possible

We tend to think of surrender as the last resort. But Trisha reframes it as the foundation for transformation. “Surrender,” she says, “is the starting point.”

Not because you’ve given up. But because you’re done pretending you can control the outcome.

For many solo parents, surrender is terrifying. It feels like one more loss. One more thing slipping through your fingers.

But here’s what’s true: surrender isn’t the same as collapse. It’s a posture of openness. A way of telling the truth about what you can’t carry anymore.

When you let go of who you used to be, you make space for the person you’re becoming.

And that person isn’t weak. They’re not behind. They’re not broken.

They’re brave.

They’re showing up with open hands and a willing heart, even when they don’t have it all figured out.

They’re standing in the aftermath of loss and whispering, “Let’s try again.”

That’s not failure. That’s courage.

That’s you.