To say that my relationship with my mother is complicated would be an understatement. Growing up, I lived with a mom whose emotional state was often unpredictable, a reality that I later understood was influenced by her struggle with alcoholism. She was reluctant to seek help, attending therapy only a few times and dismissing the therapist’s feedback, insisting they found nothing wrong with her. As a result, I was raised by a woman who often made questionable decisions for my wellbeing, shaping a narrative where she was perpetually the victim.
In my childhood, I didn’t recognize the extent of her drinking. It wasn’t until I became an adult, married, and a parent myself that her issues became glaringly obvious. I watched her spiral deeper into her addictions, witnessing the toll it took on her health, all while she continued to deny the severity of her situation.
Years ago, I made the pivotal choice to distance myself from my mother, a decision that proved to be both challenging and necessary for my own mental health and the wellbeing of my family. In my tight-knit Greek family, such a move was unprecedented, but I felt compelled to break the cycle of dysfunction that had ensnared previous generations. Through therapy, I began to unveil memories that once seemed benign but were, in reality, harmful. My mother provided basic needs—food and shelter—but her emotional neglect and lack of support were profound. Her decisions, while not physically abusive, were mentally damaging and have left lasting marks on my life.
Now, my interactions with her are limited to crises on her end, yet I often find myself mourning the mother I never had—the one who would have loved, supported, and cherished me as I do with my own children. I yearn for a parental figure who is genuinely present, just like my husband’s parents are. I look forward to being that unwavering support for my kids, always available for them, day or night.
I will be there for my children through every significant and minor moment. They will never have to question whether I am too intoxicated to assist them or if I will make their joys about myself. A few years ago, when I lost a friend, my mother’s reaction was more about her than my grief. When I received a call from my mom that night, I chose not to answer, knowing it would not be a moment of genuine support. My children will never experience that kind of selfishness from me or my partner. They will be able to trust and depend on me, unlike the relationship I had with my mother.
While I struggle with the longing for a maternal bond that will never exist, I try to rise above feelings of self-pity. I remind myself that I am the change that my family has long awaited. I may not be perfect, but I can undoubtedly strive to be better than those before me. I am determined to be the mother I never had.
Summary:
The author reflects on her decision to cut ties with her mother due to emotional neglect and her struggles with alcoholism. Despite the pain of missing the mother she desired, she is committed to breaking the cycle of dysfunction and becoming the supportive and loving parent her children deserve. Through self-reflection and therapy, she recognizes the importance of being present and available for her family in ways that her mother could not be.