Reframing the Empty Nest: Finding Yourself After the Kids Leave

Empty-nest season is almost upon us. This rite of passage in the parental journey kicks into high gear in late summer and is often filled with dread and sadness—especially for women—as their children head off into the world.

Rethinking the “Empty Nest” Narrative

It’s easy to buy into the narrative the patriarchy would have us believe: that once our children are launched, we no longer have a role in society. That we’re used up. That our lives just languish in front of us—our only joy arriving when our kids stumble home with duffel bags full of dirty laundry and empty bellies ready for home cooking. But I think it’s bullshit.

I sometimes wonder if we’ve created a self-fulfilling prophecy around the whole empty-nest thing. Am I sad because I think I’m supposed to be sad? If I’m not walking around with a box of tissues all day, what does that say about me as a mother? Does it mean I don’t love my kids enough?

(NOTE: I am in no way making light of women who deal with very real symptoms of depression at this time. If this is your experience, please reach out to your doctor or therapist.)

What If We Saw It as Growth Instead of Loss?

What if we didn’t anticipate that this change would be hard? What if we acknowledged it as the next healthy step in the evolution of our family—and ourselves? Our children are supposed to go off into the world to do their thing. By allowing them the space to change and adapt, we get the chance to do the same.

Too often, our experiences are compressed into either/or scenarios. You’re either the devoted mother who cries at every reminder of her child, or you’re the emotionless one who turns the bedroom into a home gym the day after they move out.

But what if we allowed ourselves to be both?

Living in the Middle Way

Our lived experiences show we’re far more complicated than a binary choice. There is always the option of the middle way—allowing yourself to be in the liminal space of not knowing.

An empty nest is absolutely about loss and shifting into a new identity. But what if you acknowledged that grief—and instead of letting it swallow you—used it as fuel to grow into a new version of yourself? Could you move forward into that new identity with both joy and curiosity?

A Single Mother’s Perspective

As a single mother, I find the freedom of stepping into an empty nest a little intoxicating. There are things I want to do with my life that I can’t when my world is so heavily intertwined with my children. I’m not abandoning them—they’re off having new experiences in new places. Why should I be stuck in the same old life, just waiting for Thanksgiving break?

I never had this kind of agency in my 20s. Back then, I didn’t really know who I was or what I wanted. I compromised on dreams before I even had them figured out—busy paying down student debt and following boyfriends around the country. My 20s were centered on ticking off a checklist: get married by a certain age, have children by a certain age.

Now? I’ve been there and done that. What’s next?

More Than Distraction

This is the point in most articles where I’m supposed to say: go get a hobby, join a club, take up pickleball. But those can just be new ways to distract yourself so you don’t have to feel.

What if I suggested something different?

It’s not about distraction—it’s about becoming so deeply aware of yourself it almost hurts.

I want you to hold grief and joy at the same time, which means being present in every moment.
I want you to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
I want you to ask yourself what feels true right now—and not be so numb with distractions that you can’t answer.

Some days, nothing will feel true. Your body, career, and relationships may all be in flux. But that flux gives you the space to figure out who you really are. It’s a chance to rewrite your story so it’s aligned with the person you are now. We get to shed the weight of people, places, and things that are no longer ours to carry.

Stepping Into What’s Next

None of this will feel easy. It won’t happen overnight. You won’t wake up the morning after your child leaves with your new identity in place. It will be raw and messy. But you have a choice: step into the mess with heaviness and dread—or with possibility and excitement.

The Empty Nest and Coping Mechanisms

In my work with women exploring their relationship with alcohol, the empty nest often plays a role in increased nightly drinking. Distractions start out innocent enough: happy hours, high-intensity workouts, endless scrolling, or extra-long workdays.

The danger comes when those distractions become addictions—when they turn into coping strategies. You can slide into a place of darkness without even realizing it’s happening.

Removing distractions—or at least becoming aware of them—allows you to reconnect with parts of yourself you may not have touched in years.

If you’re curious about exploring your relationship with alcohol, please reach out and book a STRONGER SOBER session here. —Krysty