I Miss Being Taken Care Of (And I Don’t Know Where to Put That Feeling)
I don’t miss the arguments.
I don’t miss the imbalance.
I don’t miss walking on eggshells or carrying someone else’s emotional volatility.
But sometimes…
I miss being taken care of.
And that’s the part no one prepares you for when you become the strong one at 48.
Missing Care Doesn’t Mean You Miss the Relationship
This is important.
You can know the divorce was right.
You can feel safer.
You can feel clearer.
And still miss:
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Someone else booking the appointment
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Someone else driving when you’re tired
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Someone else saying, “I’ll handle it”
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Someone noticing you’re overwhelmed before you say it
Missing care does not mean you want the chaos back.
It means you’re human.
The Exhaustion of Always Being the Default Adult
If you’re the primary parent, you are:
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The planner
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The scheduler
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The emotional regulator
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The bill-payer
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The decision-maker
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The safety net
There is no “tap out” button.
Even when you’re sick.
Even when you’re depleted.
Even when you don’t want to think anymore.
That constant responsibility builds strength.
It also builds quiet longing.
The Kind of Care You Actually Miss
It’s rarely dramatic romance.
It’s subtle.
You miss:
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Someone asking how your day was — and actually listening
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Someone taking initiative without being told
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Someone carrying the mental load for one evening
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Someone saying, “Rest. I’ve got it.”
You don’t want rescuing.
You want shared weight.
There’s a difference.
Why It Feels So Hard to Admit
Because you’ve built an identity around competence.
You are:
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Reliable
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Capable
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Independent
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Resilient
Admitting you miss being taken care of feels like contradicting that.
But independence and interdependence are not opposites.
Healthy adults still need support.
Even strong ones.
The Invisible Grief of Midlife Independence
At 48, especially raising teenagers, you might notice:
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You’re the last one awake.
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You’re the first one solving problems.
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You’re the one who absorbs tension.
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You’re the one who steadies everyone else.
There is no built-in adult steadiness for you.
And that absence can ache.
It’s a quiet grief.
Not for the marriage.
But for partnership.
When Strength Turns Into Isolation
The longer you carry everything, the more you default to:
“I’ll just do it.”
You stop asking.
You stop sharing.
You stop expecting support.
Over time, that becomes isolation.
Not because no one cares.
But because you trained yourself not to need.
That protection strategy can become a prison.
What Your Teenagers Don’t See
They see:
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Stability
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Consistency
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Follow-through
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Emotional regulation
They feel safe.
But they don’t see:
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The 2am worries
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The financial calculations
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The emotional restraint
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The moments you wish someone else would lead
And that’s okay.
They’re not meant to carry that.
But someone should witness it.
Where Do You Put This Feeling?
Not in dating apps immediately.
Not in resentment.
Not in pretending it doesn’t exist.
You put it in:
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Honest adult conversation
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Structured connection
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Therapy if needed
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Friendships that allow vulnerability
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Spaces where strength and softness can coexist
Missing care is not weakness.
It’s an unmet relational need.
And unmet needs don’t disappear because you’re capable.
The Important Distinction
You do not want someone to fix your life.
You want someone to share it.
You don’t want dependency.
You want reciprocity.
That is mature.
That is healthy.
That is human.
If You’re Reading This at 48 (Or 45… Or 52)
And you feel this quietly…
You are not ungrateful.
You are not dramatic.
You are not secretly failing at independence.
You are carrying a lot.
And even the strongest shoulders need rest.
You don’t need rescuing.
But you deserve to be cared for.
And admitting that is not weakness.
It’s self-awareness.
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