Why so many women feel selfish for wanting something different, even when they're finally free to choose.

There is something I keep noticing in my conversations with women who are rebuilding their lives after divorce.

They've made some incredibly difficult decisions.

They've had conversations they were terrified to have. They've dealt with the emotional fallout, the practical arrangements, the uncertainty about their children, their finances, their future.

Some have spent years trying to decide whether to leave. Others have already been divorced for quite some time.

And then, somewhere along the way, I ask them what they would really like their life to look like.

It's such a simple question.

But you'd be surprised how difficult it can be to answer.

Sometimes a woman will tell me she'd love to move somewhere else.

Or travel for a few months.

Or change careers.

Maybe she'd like to date again. Maybe she has absolutely no interest in another relationship and would quite happily spend the next few years on her own.

And almost immediately, the explanation begins.

"I'd love to, but I don't know what my children would think."

"I've always wanted to do that, although it seems a bit irresponsible at my age."

"I know this sounds selfish..."

That last sentence.

I hear it so often.

And I find it fascinating that a woman who has spent decades considering everybody else's needs can feel guilty simply for having a desire of her own.

When everybody else's needs have become your normal

Think about how many decisions a woman makes throughout a marriage.

Where the family will live. How the children will be raised. Whose career takes priority at a particular moment. What happens during holidays. How money is spent. Which plans can be made, and which have to wait?

Of course, in a healthy relationship, these are shared decisions.

But in many of the relationships women describe to me, they've gradually become the person who adjusts.

Sometimes it happens so slowly that they barely notice.

She takes the job that fits around the children's schedules.

She stops bringing up something because she knows it will cause an argument.

She postpones the trip she wanted to take.

She tells herself she'll have time for her own interests when the children are older, when work is less demanding, when things settle down.

And there is always something else that needs her attention.

Over the years, she becomes very good at knowing what everyone around her needs.

Ask her what her husband prefers, and she'll probably tell you immediately.

Ask her what makes her children happy, and she could talk for an hour.

Ask her what she wants for herself, and suddenly the answer becomes much less certain.

I've met women who can manage enormous professional responsibilities, make complicated business decisions, and take care of everyone around them.

Yet when it comes to making a personal decision that benefits only them, they hesitate.

They ask five people for their opinions.

They imagine every possible consequence.

They look for reasons why it might be better to wait.

And sometimes they end up doing nothing.

The strange discomfort of having a choice

We often imagine that freedom will feel wonderful.

Especially after a difficult marriage.

You picture having your own space. Making your own decisions. Choosing how to spend your weekends. Perhaps finally doing some of the things you've been putting off for years.

And yes, there can be enormous relief in that.

But freedom can also feel unfamiliar.

Because for a long time, your decisions may have been connected to a particular role.

You were somebody's wife.

You were the mother who made everything work.

You were the responsible one, the practical one, the woman everyone could depend on.

And those roles can become such a large part of how you see yourself that you don't always know who you are without them.

I've noticed that some women almost seem to miss having a reason to put themselves last.

Not because they enjoyed being unhappy.

But because being needed gave them a familiar place in the world.

They knew what was expected of them.

Now those expectations have changed, and they're being asked to consider something they may not have considered seriously in years.

What would I choose if I didn't have to organize my life around everybody else?

And that question can bring up a surprising amount of discomfort.

Why does wanting more feel selfish?

I sometimes wonder how early women begin learning that being good means being accommodating.

Being considerate.

Being easy to live with.

Being the person who doesn't ask for too much.

Many women have received praise for these qualities throughout their lives.

"She's always thinking of others."

"She never complains."

"She puts her family first."

And there is nothing wrong with being generous or caring deeply about other people.

But what happens when a woman starts believing that her own needs should always come last?

What happens when she becomes uncomfortable with disappointing someone, even over something that is entirely her decision?

I see this in small, everyday situations.

A woman wants to spend a weekend away, but she feels she should check whether everyone is comfortable with it.

She wants to buy something for herself, but she spends days justifying the expense.

She wants to try something new, but she's worried people will think she's having a midlife crisis.

And sometimes the people she's worried about haven't even said anything.

She's already having the argument in her own head.

She's already preparing her defense.

I find that particularly interesting.

Because it tells us how deeply certain expectations can become part of the way we think about ourselves.

Even when nobody is actively stopping us, we can continue behaving as though we need permission.

Rebuilding a life involves discovering what you actually like

A lot of attention is given to the practical side of divorce.

And understandably so.

There are legal decisions, financial arrangements, housing questions, and often complicated family dynamics.

For many women, simply getting through that period takes an enormous amount of energy.

But eventually, the immediate crisis begins to settle.

The paperwork is finished.

The new routines become familiar.

And then there's the question of what comes next.

This is a part of my work that I find particularly interesting.

Because a woman may have spent so much time thinking about whether her marriage could survive that she hasn't really thought about the life she wants to create afterward.

And when she finally has the space to think about it, she may discover that she doesn't know what she likes anymore.

I don't mean that she has no personality or interests.

I mean that she's spent years making choices in relation to other people.

Even something as simple as deciding how she wants to spend a Sunday can feel strange.

Would she like to go somewhere?

Stay home?

Meet friends?

Do absolutely nothing?

There may be nobody else's preference to consider.

And for some women, that is a completely new experience.

I think we sometimes expect women to emerge from divorce with a clear vision of their future.

As though making the decision to leave automatically means knowing exactly who you want to become.

But often, that understanding comes much later.

And it can begin with the smallest things.

Realizing you actually enjoy being alone.

Remembering something you used to love doing.

Making a decision without asking for reassurance.

Or noticing that you feel excited about something and allowing yourself to enjoy that feeling before listing all the reasons it might be impractical.

You don't have to justify every desire

One thing I've noticed over more than 20 years of working with women is how quickly they can move from excitement into explanation.

A woman will tell me about something she's always wanted to do.

Her whole face changes when she talks about it.

You can hear the enthusiasm in her voice.

And then comes the "but."

"But I don't know if it's realistic."

"But my family might not understand."

"But perhaps I should wait."

"But isn't that a little selfish?"

Sometimes I want to ask her to go back to the beginning.

To the moment before she started explaining.

When she was simply talking about something that made her happy.

Because that moment is worth paying attention to.

Of course, our choices have consequences. We have responsibilities, and other people's lives can be affected by the decisions we make.

I'm certainly not suggesting that every desire should be acted on without thinking.

But I do think there is a difference between considering the consequences of a decision and automatically assuming that wanting something for yourself is wrong.

And I think many women have become so accustomed to the second that they barely recognize they're doing it.

What would you choose if you stopped asking for permission?

Perhaps you're divorced and finally living on your own.

Perhaps you're still married but have started to question whether the life you've built is the one you want to continue living.

Or perhaps nothing dramatic has happened at all.

You simply realize that you've spent a very long time making sure everybody else is okay.

And somewhere in all of that, you've stopped asking yourself what you want.

I don't think you need to make an enormous change tomorrow.

You don't need to move countries, quit your job, or reinvent your entire personality.

But I would be curious about something.

When you think about the things you'd like to do, how often does your mind immediately go to what other people might think?

And how many of those people have actually asked you to explain yourself?

Because sometimes the permission we're waiting for is permission nobody else even realizes we're asking for.

After years of being the woman everyone could depend on, perhaps the most unfamiliar thing is becoming someone who takes her own wishes seriously.

And I would love to see more women discover what happens when they do.

Not because they've stopped caring about the people around them.

Simply because their own lives deserve some of that consideration, too.

Isabelle Ulenaers is a psychologist with over 20 years of experience and the creator of The Untamed Methodology™. She works with high-functioning women navigating divorce, identity transformation, and the process of rebuilding a life that feels genuinely their own.