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Feeling Guilty About Wanting Solo Time

Ask Ash

My husband and I got married six months ago, and everything is great—he's amazing, supportive, the whole package. But I'm struggling with something I feel really guilty about. Before we got married, I used to spend Saturday mornings at my favorite coffee shop, just reading or journaling for a couple hours. It was my reset button for the week. Now that we're living together, he always wants to do something together on weekends, which I love, but I really miss that alone time. When I tried to go to the coffee shop last weekend, he seemed hurt and asked if everything was okay between us. I ended up staying home and felt weirdly resentful, which made me feel even worse.

I know marriage is about building a life together, and I want that. But I also feel like I'm losing little pieces of myself that made me happy. Is it selfish to want a few hours alone each week? How do I bring this up without making him think I'm pulling away or that something's wrong? I don't want him to feel rejected, but I also don't want to wake up five years from now and not recognize myself anymore.

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Your Coffee Shop Mornings Aren't Selfish—They're Essential

Response from Ash

First, take a breath and release that guilt you're carrying. Wanting a few hours alone each week isn't selfish—it's actually one of the healthiest things you can do for yourself and your marriage. Think of it this way: you can't pour from an empty cup, and those Saturday mornings were how you filled yours. The fact that you're thinking so carefully about this shows how much you care about your husband's feelings, but here's the thing—you're allowed to care about your own needs too. The strongest partnerships aren't built on being together every possible moment; they're built on two whole people choosing each other, and wholeness requires some space to breathe.

The conversation you're worried about having? It's actually a gift to your marriage. Try framing it around what those mornings give you rather than what you're taking away from him. Something like: 'I love our weekends together, and I want to talk about something that'll actually make me a better partner. Those Saturday morning coffee shop hours used to recharge me completely, and I'm realizing I need that reset to show up as my best self—for me and for us.' Most partners, when they understand it's about refueling rather than retreating, feel relieved rather than rejected. His initial hurt likely came from not understanding, not from the actual boundary.

Here's what matters most: you're six months in, and you're already recognizing what you need. That's wisdom, not selfishness. Many people don't figure this out until years later, when resentment has already built walls. Set this pattern now—your Saturday mornings, his poker night or gym time or whatever fills his tank, and plenty of togetherness in between. Marriage isn't about merging into one person; it's about two people maintaining their individual sparks while building something beautiful together. You haven't lost those pieces of yourself—they're just asking you to protect them. And you absolutely can.

3 Comments

Empathetic Squirrel•

I really relate to this—I'm someone who used to think needing alone time meant I wasn't committed enough or doing relationships 'right.' Like if I was a good enough partner, I'd want to be together constantly. What helped me was realizing that my need for those recharge moments isn't a flaw to fix, it's just how I'm wired. My partner actually said something that stuck with me: 'I don't want the watered-down version of you that's running on empty.' Maybe your husband would feel the same if he understood that your coffee shop time isn't about getting away from him—it's about coming back to him with a full tank. The guilt is so real though. I still have to remind myself that taking care of myself isn't the same as being selfish.

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Ash's Thoughts

I love how you reframed that internal narrative about alone time meaning something's wrong with you—that's such a common trap we fall into. And your partner's line about not wanting the 'watered-down version' really captures something important: that we actually show up better in our relationships when we're not running on fumes. The guilt piece is so persistent though, isn't it? Even when we intellectually know better, it still creeps in.

Wonderful Hedgehog•

This hits close to home for me too, though from a slightly different angle. My partner and I have been together three years and we're actually working through some intimacy stuff in therapy right now. One thing our therapist said that really landed was that sometimes we confuse closeness with constant togetherness, and that can actually create pressure that pushes people apart. Like, I realized I was interpreting my partner's need for space as rejection of me, when really it had nothing to do with our connection at all. Maybe your husband's reaction came from that same place—thinking your coffee shop time means something about him when it's really just about you needing to breathe. What helped us was when my partner started being really specific: 'I need two hours to decompress, and then I'm going to come back and I want to hear about your day.' The clarity made it feel less scary somehow. Just a thought from someone still figuring this stuff out.

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Ash's Thoughts

I really appreciate you sharing what you and your partner are learning in therapy—that distinction between closeness and constant togetherness is so important and often gets blurred, especially in newer relationships. The specificity piece you mentioned resonates deeply; it transforms something that can feel like rejection into a clear, loving boundary that actually protects the relationship rather than threatening it.

Resourceful Firefly•

I'm dealing with chronic illness stuff and this really resonates, though maybe from a slightly different angle. I have to protect my alone time now because it's when I manage symptoms, rest without explaining myself, or just exist without performing 'I'm fine.' Early in my relationship I felt so guilty about needing space—like I was already asking him to deal with enough without also asking to be alone sometimes. But honestly? Learning to say 'I need Saturday mornings' without apologizing saved us both. He gets predictability instead of me being randomly depleted and snappy, and I get to show up actually present when we're together. What helped was being specific: not 'I need space' (which felt vague and rejecting) but 'Saturday mornings are my reset, then I'm all in for the rest of the weekend.' The specificity made it feel less like rejection and more like just... how our life works. You're not losing yourself—you're actually fighting to keep yourself whole, which is the opposite of selfish.

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Ash's Thoughts

I'm really moved by how you've reframed protecting your alone time as fighting to keep yourself whole—that's such a powerful way to think about it. The distinction you draw between vague requests for space and specific, predictable boundaries is so practical and kind to both people. It sounds like you've learned something really important about how to stay present in a relationship by honoring what you actually need, even when it feels vulnerable to ask for it.