Letting Go of the Mother-Daughter Relationship I Once Craved
And I’m so glad I did
There’s a huge chunk of my life where I couldn’t stand my mother. I know those are pretty strong words to use about the person who gave me life, but it’s how I felt.
My parents divorced when I was about five, and I just remember constant arguing and fighting. I believe she drove my father insane, leading him to make the decision to leave. I don’t blame him.
They went through divorce lawyers, custody battles, and child support until finally it was decided in favor of me living with my mother since I didn’t make it easy on the judge; when he asked me who I wanted to live with, my answer was always “both!”
Let me put it this way: If I had known all the heartache she was going to cause, I would’ve picked my father.
I envied the girls at school who had affectionate, attentive, loving mothers — the kind who gently combed their hair, enjoyed movie nights together, took them dress shopping, and were involved in all the school field trips and activities.
I envied the girls that said they loved their moms because they were the best and meant it.
Why is my mom so hard to love? Does she hate me? Why is she so angry all the time?
Somewhere around my twenties, I read a book called “Shadow Daughter: A Memoir of Estrangement” by Harriet Brown. I was considering cutting my mother out of my life for good like Harriet did. I wanted to let her go so she wouldn’t keep disappointing me.
The few times I tried talking to her about how I felt, the conversation would turn into an argument, and we would go without speaking for days, sometimes months. I think that if it weren’t for my half-siblings, maybe I would’ve estranged her.
She wasn’t like the moms on TV I grew up watching — Gilmore Girls, Jane the Virgin, or The Golden Girls.
It almost felt like she gave birth to me because she had no choice. She was only seventeen, and maybe my father and I ruined her youth and her life.
I took a different approach by letting go of the picture-perfect mother-daughter bond that I’m probably never going to have. I found that maternal connection in other women like my aunts and my grandmother who showered me with love.
I made peace with myself and the anger I held inside For not getting what I wanted. In my own way I forgave my mom. I let it all go.
I wasn’t going to allow myself to get mentally sick because I wanted her attention. I was becoming an adult, and she’ll be the one to miss out on having a real relationship with me. I let go of that fantasy.
The way she treated me wasn’t her fault, I know that now. I blame her upbringing; she had no guidance, and no one set positive examples for her. She was a teen mom with barely any support from her own family.
I was more upset she never found the courage to break that cycle.
All I knew was that I was going to break that cycle, I was going to be a different kind of mom — affectionate, supportive, present. I want my child to feel seen, heard, and loved unconditionally.
Once I let go of that angst and allowed things to be cordial between us, something happened — a miracle. All of a sudden, she started reaching out to me more, taking the initiative to call or hang out. I felt how genuine she was when she would ask me about work, school, or how my day went.
When I turned thirty-one and announced my pregnancy, it brought us even closer. She was elated; she cried, saw herself in me, hugged me, kissed me, and called me every single day to ask how I was feeling. My inner child was jumping for joy.
I like to believe my son brought us closer together, and that’s no accident.
Once I found the courage to stop crying myself to sleep and move on with my life, here we are today. We talk every single day through FaceTime and make it our business to see each other at least once a month, either at her place or mine, for a few days.
She’s involved in our lives, loves my son so much, and shows it. Maybe she’s making up for lost time between her and me.
I love where we stand today. Of course, we don’t agree on everything all the time, but we find a happy medium.
I care about my mother, and if something ever happened to her, I would be there for her in a heartbeat.
This story was inspired by Liberty Forrest, Author. Thank you!
