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My estranged mother embodies narcissism. Whether or not she’s truly pathological, her behavior throughout my childhood was consistently belittling. She often remarked that I had “no common sense” and questioned “what was wrong” with me. Publicly, she presented a cheerful facade, but after every sports practice, I faced her harsh critiques for any minor shortcomings. She remained passive during my severe bullying, prioritizing her image above my wellbeing, and neglected my mental health struggles for the same reason. She seemed to believe we were inherently superior, especially to wealthy individuals, whom she dismissed as “crazy” and “living on a different planet.”
When we finally severed ties during the COVID-19 pandemic, I sought intensive therapy to address my childhood trauma. It was through this process that I came to an essential realization: I didn’t miss my estranged mother at all. In fact, I felt relief that she was out of our lives. The constant criticisms of my parenting and her blatant favoritism towards my oldest son were burdens I could finally cast aside. I no longer had to endure her backhanded “advice” that undermined my efforts as a parent.
While I don’t miss her, I do find myself longing for the simple presence of a nurturing mother.
My Estranged Mother Was Never Truly “A Mom”
I vividly remember a moment when I casually told my mother that I loved my best friend’s mom nearly as much as I loved her. Her reaction was explosive. Now, as a parent myself, I understand the pain that my innocent comment must have caused her. Although my mother loved my brother and me to the best of her ability—which sadly wasn’t much—my comment must have felt like a personal affront, highlighting her perceived failures.
Reflecting on my experiences, I realized the true nature of my relationship with her when a friend confided in me about her abortion. Her mother supported her through the entire process, from the clinic visit to post-care. The thought struck me hard: I could never trust my mother in such a vulnerable moment. Your mom should love you unconditionally, and I never had that.
The Void of a Maternal Connection
When friends share stories about their mothers, I feel a deep sense of longing. I once pretended that my estranged mother was a mother figure, but as I distanced myself from her toxicity, the illusion shattered. I think of the countless relationships my friends have with their mothers and feel a profound ache for the bond I never experienced. While I wish I could forge a new connection with someone else, my mother-in-law isn’t a suitable substitute for various reasons. Unfortunately, there’s no way to seek adoption at my age.
It’s isolating to navigate life without a true maternal presence. Others lean on older women for guidance, laughter, and love. They post joyful memories with their moms on social media, while I quietly observe, feeling the emptiness of my own experiences. The unconditional love I receive comes solely from my husband and children.
Navigating life milestones, like menopause, without someone to turn to feels daunting. Losing the stories of my childhood feels like a death—an absence that others question, often wrongly attributing blame to me. They wonder, “Why would you do that?” as if I didn’t have valid reasons for prioritizing my mental health and my children’s well-being.
I have older friends I wish I could confide in, wanting to ask, “Will you be my mom?” But that request feels too vulnerable, so I remain silent, listening as others share their stories. I don’t miss my estranged mother; I miss the motherly love I never truly had.