I haven’t had a conversation with my mom in nearly five years. Our relationship has always been rocky, and it grew even more strained as I went through significant life changes: graduating college, getting engaged, marrying, and welcoming my baby.
Before I completely cut ties, there were sporadic breaks in communication—a month here or a few months there. Guilt would always pull me back into trying to mend things. But everything changed when I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted my mother at my side. After all, milestones like prom, marriage, and motherhood traditionally come with a mom’s support, right?
During my prom, she persuaded me to spend the day with friends, leaving me without her. When it came time for my wedding dress shopping, she deemed it “silly” and opted out completely. But I thought having a baby would change everything; it would surely bring us closer together.
That didn’t pan out. My pregnancy was fraught with tension, and the only time I saw her was at my baby shower. When my son was born, rather than a warm congratulation, I was met with a furious outburst regarding my choice to have my best friend in the delivery room. Although she lived out of state and chose not to come for the birth, she never missed an opportunity to criticize me, even after I let her meet my son.
That encounter, her only visit, shattered whatever fragile foundation we had left. If anything, my journey into motherhood became another avenue for her to undermine and criticize my choices, from diaper changes to breastfeeding.
My mother battled her own demons, and while her story isn’t mine to tell, I carry pieces of it. Our relationship grew more strained after she started facing addiction issues when I turned 18. It was heartbreaking to witness her struggles, like the time she fell asleep standing in a store or the times I had to pick my little brother up from the police while she was taken for involuntary care. She glamorized her addiction, believing it made her part of an elite club of those who struggled with substance abuse.
These memories replay in my mind, but not to hurt her. After all, she’s the only mother I’ll ever have. Tragically, she passed away last month.
When I severed ties with her years ago, I searched for guidance but found mostly resources aimed at parents, emphasizing how children must be selfish or immature. I constantly heard, “She’s your mom! You need to forgive.” But there’s only so much one can endure before declaring “enough.” The birth of my son marked my resolve.
The million-dollar question often posed to me was, “What if something happens to her? Will you regret it?” My answer is yes, you can live with that decision.
I learned about my mother’s death through two people at once, triggering an instinct to be with my dad and my brothers, for their sake—not for her. The emotions that followed were overwhelming. Losing a parent is devastating. Yet, I had mourned my mother long before that moment. Years of therapy and open conversations with supportive friends helped me navigate this complex grief.
Not a single feeling I have now is regret. I chose to end a toxic, abusive relationship. I made space for those who uplift me, while letting go of those who brought me down. It was liberating, yet heart-wrenching. I grieve that I didn’t speak to my mom the night before she died. I am saddened that she never met my incredible sons, who at ages 1 and 5 are the lights of my life. Mourning the mother I longed for, the one I wished she could have been, has been the hardest journey I’ve faced.
I loved her deeply, but I reached a point where I didn’t love myself enough to tolerate her abuse. Looking at my children, I knew I couldn’t allow any form of harm in their lives. From that moment on, I began my path toward freedom. If you find yourself in a similar situation, know that you are worthy of love and respect. You do not have to endure mistreatment, and you can break free.
As I reflect on my relationship with my mother, I accept that we will never reconcile. She was never capable of being the mother I needed, and perhaps now she is free from her struggles. I hope she has found peace. Having my children has been a source of healing for me; I finally understand the depth of a mother’s love. Growing up, I didn’t experience that, but loving my boys has brought me healing I never anticipated.
My childhood home appeared perfect from the outside but was rife with conflict inside. It was a constant game of survival. My mother was deeply wounded, and hurt people often hurt others. It’s agonizing to be hurt by someone who should love you unconditionally. However, we cannot allow such relationships to persist. Setting boundaries and, if necessary, cutting contact is sometimes the only path to self-preservation. Remember, you are worth saving.
In summary, navigating the loss of an estranged parent can be complex and filled with mixed emotions. While it’s natural to feel sadness and heartache, it’s essential to recognize that choosing to step away from toxic dynamics is a valid and sometimes necessary decision. Your well-being should always come first.