I’m not in contact with my mother by choice; she’s eager to re-enter my life, but that’s not what I desire. I crave transformation—something simpler and more nurturing. I want a mother who offers unconditional love, but I’ve grown weary of waiting for her to evolve through her own emotional healing.
It’s been nearly two years since I decided to distance myself from my mother due to the toxic nature of our relationship. While I haven’t completely cut ties, I often wish I had. Still, she remains able to reach out to me and my children.
Before I asked her to halt her incessant calls, visits, and daily emails, I attempted to set boundaries aimed at creating a healthier dynamic for my well-being. I’ve always described my relationship with her as complicated. To outsiders, she appears to be an overly protective and loving mother. Yet beneath that facade lies a web of unhealthy motivations and unresolved trauma stemming from her own experiences with childhood and domestic abuse. Instead of seeking therapy, she relied on me to fulfill her emotional needs, and even as I faced physical and sexual abuse, I was still seen as someone to shield her from pain, even while she allowed those abuses to occur.
Her denial of my needs as a child, paired with her insistence that she did everything possible to protect me, creates a tumultuous emotional landscape during every interaction. Her past experiences should have informed her understanding of the abuse I suffered, but instead, they contributed to her emotional dependency on me.
While others see a devoted mother and grandmother, I see a reminder of my past that continues to affect my present.
Much of my therapy focused on how to maintain some distance from her while still allowing a relationship. I longed for a parental figure and wanted my children to know their grandmother. Despite her unhealthy behavior towards me, she was a dedicated grandparent, and my kids adored her, even if I had to intervene occasionally. I often had to correct her inappropriate comments and prevent her from placing her emotional burdens on my children, such as guilt-tripping them into hugging her or sulking when they chose to play with friends instead of her. I made it clear: my kids are not responsible for her feelings and should not be her sole source of happiness.
Protecting my children is my priority, and if she wants to be part of their lives, she must respect the boundaries I’ve set. Currently, she struggles to accept any limitations that keep her away from my kids. She frequently emails me, claiming she is heartbroken over not seeing her grandchildren, accusing me of punishing her by keeping them distant, which isn’t true. They’re simply too young to initiate phone calls or video chats. My mother needs me to facilitate a connection, but I need to focus on healing by reducing her demands. I needed a break and control over how often I interacted with her.
Although I’ve told her to stop reaching out, she persists. I don’t answer her calls, and I only respond to her emails when I feel emotionally equipped to handle the distance between us. Despite her sending gifts for holidays, I’ve requested that she refrain from sending random packages or notes. Just seeing her name on my phone or her handwriting on a letter jolts me and makes me feel unsafe.
Estrangement would be ideal, but she disagrees, and I don’t have the energy to cut her off completely. She doesn’t respect my need for space, so I’ve shut the door but left it ajar. If I do open it, it’s for my kids, not for her.
They’re still too young to understand why their grandmother isn’t reaching out. My oldest sometimes inquires about her, and I simply explain that adults occasionally need distance from one another. She can email a few relatives, including my mother, and when she feels inclined, she sends a note. I don’t impose or obstruct their relationship, but I do keep an eye on it.
I’m also keeping tabs on my own emotions. I feel guilty for needing space and the confusion it causes her. However, I’ve felt relief from limiting contact with my mother. Old wounds are beginning to heal without her presence reopening them. When I feel a longing for a mother figure, I remind myself that it’s not her I truly want or need.
I’ve ceased expecting her to change, which allows me to consider seeing her as a different person. If I can distance myself enough, perhaps she will no longer symbolize the mother I once envisioned. That might be the most beneficial separation of all.
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Summary:
The author reflects on a complicated relationship with their mother, characterized by emotional dependency and trauma. Despite wanting to maintain some connection for the sake of their children, boundaries have been crucial for their mental health. The piece explores the difficulty of navigating familial ties while prioritizing personal healing.
Keyphrase: estranged relationship with mother
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