From Estrangement to Understanding

Nearly 11 months ago, our adult children went no-contact with us.

I’ve mentioned it a few times on Instagram, but I don’t talk about it a ton, because honestly the comment section attacks simply aren’t fun to deal with on a topic that’s already super emotional.

But yet… I know many parents go though this. I’ve even talked to hundreds of you in my community who are, too. Studies show that up to 50% of families have gone through a period of it.

People often assume politics caused a rift in our relationship, and in our current climate that is sadly true far too often. But not this one. We’re all on the same side when it comes to politics.

The other wrong assumption is that there was some terrible behavior on our part, something egregious or nefarious. Again, simply untrue.

On social media, you only have 90ish seconds to tell your story in a way that leaves enough understanding that folks don’t jump to conclusions, while respecting the privacy of those who aren’t telling the story.

I’ve watched so many videos from both sides that cast stones from adult children about unmet expectations, and from parents who label their kids as ungrateful. It’s painful to watch as someone who has taken this time to actually process the pain (and is still actively healing.)

Sometimes no-contact is very much warranted. And this is not about those situations. This is my story. And this was not one of those situations.

At first I felt deeply betrayed. It felt unfathomable that people who I had spent decades loving, supporting, cheering on, defending, nurturing and cheerleading could turn their back on me so effortlessly.

It took me months, but I did a ton of soul searching to find the lesson I was supposed to learn through this period of my life. Lessons I’m still unraveling now.

So instead of telling you all the things that happened and all the ways it felt unjust, I wanted to share the lessons I’ve learned throughout the past year:

1. Healing comes at a cost.

As a Generation X mom born in the 70s, going to therapy wasn’t something that was ever talked about when I was a young mom. I didn’t even know what therapy was until the late 90s, long after I had become a mom myself.

However, as a mom who struggled financially, I never had the resources – time, money, or mental bandwidth – to go to therapy until after my children were adults. All of those things went to giving them a better life.

Once my kids were grown, I had the capacity to do so. And when I found myself at a pretty dark time in my life a few years ago, I decided it was worth the investment.

Oddly enough, I had been seeing a psychiatrist for years who had misdiagnosed me with bipolar disorder. I had asked if therapy might be a good idea and her response was “no, you’re handling life just fine – you don’t need therapy.”

Looking back, that was wild… but now I recognize that the medication she had me on for a decade was simply a bandaid. Because healing all the trauma with therapy was actually what I needed all along. But that’s another story for a different day.

Years later, I can tell you that therapy was THE BEST thing I’ve ever done for myself. Not just keeping the appointments. But digging in, doing the work of unraveling all my old beliefs – and learning to set boundaries for myself.

But here’s a truth people don’t talk about enough:

The people that get the most upset with you when you start therapy and learn to set boundaries are the folks that benefitted the most from your lack of them.

As you begin to heal, you’ll change. As you change, the way you interact with others also changes. And this disrupts their life. Unfortunately, they’ll begin to subconsciously react in a way to try to get you to revert back to who you were before.

When this happens – you have two choices: Either revert back to keep the peace…. or love yourself enough to continue on your healing path.

Healing my trauma has cost me in many ways, and the relationship with my adult children was one of those costs.

2. Beliefs shape relationships – whether we realize it or not

I grew up being told I was too much. I was too loud. Too bossy. Too stubborn. Too much in every possible way.

And I was also told I was too difficult – or even impossible – to love. I was told this over and over and over again as a child by my parents.

This isn’t a slight on my mom – I’ve worked through all that. This is just to give you context.

But I was told these things SO often as a child, that I believed them. They became my identity.

And when I began to parent, I believed it to be true so deeply that the only thing I wanted was for my children were to be known just how much they were loved – and to feel loved by them.

GenX was also the generation of feral children. Latchkey kids. The kids that the nightly reminder on television of “Do you know where your kids are?” was referring to.

So when you mix feral-child survival with the belief that I was unlovable… I became the mom that made my children the center of my world. I wanted them to look back onto their childhood and have so many good memories that it was the dominant thing instead of the horrors that only persist from my own.

But still… I believed in my core that I was impossible to love.

And whatever thoughts you think are the things that you feel and it creates the actions you take in life… and that manifests the reality of your existence.

In their teenage years, I often heard the words ring out again “You’re impossible” from my daughter’s mouths. It would be another decade before I realized that I was the root cause of their thoughts about me.

Because I believed I was unlovable… I approached them in a way that made it impossible for them to love me.

Not because I was neglectful or abusive. I was the mom that was so hell bent on making their childhoods magical that I lost myself in the quest of perfection for them. I contorted myself for their benefit – when they didn’t care one way or the other.

It was my quest to be loved that made me unlovable. And I have no one but myself to blame for the results.

Because whatever we believe about ourselves, deep down in the dark, scary parts – that’s what is going to actually be the driving force.

Those around us can either help us heal… or they will drift away. Personally, I’ve seen this happen time and time again.

3. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him think.

Have you ever felt misunderstood, so you launch into a long-winding road to try to explain where you’re coming from… only to wind up more misunderstood than before you started?

You lay out every ounce of reasoning you had, every intention you had with your actions, you spill every drop of emotion and logic, trying to make your heart make sense… but it does nothing to move the needle?

That’s because people will only understand you at the level that they understand themselves. But trying to preemptively explain your life to others who are hell bent on misunderstanding is a fruitless quest.

When you’ve lived your life seeking external validation… then you heal enough to learn that self-validation is the truest form of self-love… everything changes.

I don’t seek external validation anymore. And once I stopped, I realized I was never truly seeking understanding in the first place – I was seeking love. But my trauma had confused the two in my noggin.

Those folks who want to understand me will ask. They’ll be curious, not judgmental. They will ask questions and not sling insults or injury. But it is only when they understand themselves enough to know that doing those things is a result of their own traumas will they get to a place where they can shift that narrative.

And no matter how many times you try to show someone this… they have to find that conclusion on their own.

The truth is, you can lead someone to the well of knowledge… but you can’t make them think.

4. There are always lessons to learn for those who seek them.

I could’ve stayed in my anger and just steeped in it until it made me bitter… kind of like a tea bag that steeps in water too long. It becomes undrinkable.

However, I’m at the point in my life where I had to start to do the work to find the lessons that I was supposed to learn. Because I believe every trial in life is here to teach us something.

Of course, I sat in my feelings for a couple of weeks. I grieved. I questioned everything. I doubted my worthiness as a mother.

“Was I ever truly good enough?” Because I tried SO DAMN HARD to be a good mom.

And I came to the conclusion that to be a good mom, you have to give your children what they need at the moment. I was never the mom who tried to interfere in her adult children’s lives. Once they were out of the house, I let them come to me and be the support they needed so they could live their lives to the fullest.

In this moment, what they need is space. Space to have the emotions they have without me affecting them. To be able to do whatever they feel called to do without me getting defensive or trying to impede on their efforts to grow.

I just want them to flourish… and if they flourish better without me, then I will gladly step aside to make as much space as long as they wish.

But it took me a few weeks to get to that place. It definitely was not overnight.

I, too, needed that space. Because without their absence, I would not have learned that I am NOT impossible to love. Or even difficult to love.

I’m easy to love – and you are, too.

I know the internet is a weird place… one where you wonder if the person on the other side of the screen is as they seem to be. But, every person I’ve ever met in real life (and after 16 years of doing this, I’ve met a LOT of you), the most common comment I get is “You were exactly who you seem like online.”

My friends, my family, my neighbors will all tell you – I am who I am. There’s no filter. I’m kind and generous in person, just like I am here.

I wouldn’t have realized I was easy to love if I had not had the distance to dissect the thoughts. I was so focused on being a mom that was worthy of being loved that it had become my entire identity. I built a business so I could give my kids a better life, host their fairytale weddings and even leave them a huge inheritance one day.

And after those fairytale weddings, even my business all came crumbling down.

Because I was never supposed to build it for them. I didn’t realize I was building it from a place of proving, not purpose. I was supposed to build a business that was aligned with my purpose, my own goals, my own dreams. Not for them. But for me… in service of you.

My dreams are worthy because I am worthy. I could not have learned that lesson while I was still living for them.

5. I actually got what I was seeking all along

I’ve always been kind of close to my mom, but the last year has truly been an evolution in our relationship.

When I was a young mom, I was so focused on shielding my children from the damage that she had done to me as a mom that I kind of kept my distance from her.

I never kept them from her, though. Because after my grandmother (her mom) passed away when I was pretty young, I never had another grandparent I was close to. And none of them made me feel safe like she did.

She was an excellent grandmother to them, and they grew up incredibly close to her. I never cut my mom out of my life, but I kept her at an arm’s length, because I was still too wounded from the damage she did.

In healing, I learned that the only reason she made the choices she did at the time was because she had her own traumas that created her thoughts, emotions and actions… because she was trying to shield me from the damage of her own childhood.

And that set me free. When we had that conversation, which led her to her own understanding of how her mother had treated her as a child, it was as if a boulder the size of Montana was instantly removed from her shoulders. I could literally see the immediate impact on her body with that one simple shift.

The day the no-contact started, I called my mom to tell her “I don’t want you in the middle, but I also don’t want you to be mad at me… so I’m going to tell you my perspective. I’ll be ok if they’re mad at me. But I don’t think I can handle you cutting me off, too.”

Nearly a year later, I can tell you – she’s stayed in all of our lives. She still sees and speaks to them consistently.

But our relationship has grown by leaps and bounds. I see her at least once a week – and that’s a lot since she lives 90 minutes away.

We’re co-gardening, where she grows some crops and tends to chickens, while I grow other crops and bake bread for all of us. It’s our own little co-op – and it’s beautiful to collaborate in this new way.

I think in the end, all I ever wanted as a child was to feel close to and loved by my mom. And honestly, as a child I never did. Which is why I tried so hard with my own children.

But healing my trauma changed me. And that changed my relationship with them. I was no longer the yes mom. The buy-all-the-things mom. The fix-all-their-problems mom. The children-centered-world mom.

I healed the version of myself that believed I had to stay broken in order to keep others happy. And I became the person who has boundaries, dreams of her own, and is content in her own little world.

Will it ever repair itself? I don’t know.

In the meantime, I’m just going to keep looking for the lessons on how I’m supposed to evolve into healing to become a better version of me. A happier, healthier, more helpful version of me. One who seeks the highest good for all.

Because I think that’s what the world needs more of.
And I want to be the change I seek in the world.

If this resonates…

And you’re in your own season of soft rebuilding…
you’re always welcome inside Soft Life Society.
It’s where I share the deeper layers of this work,
and where women like us come to heal without hiding.

No performance. No pressure. Just space to become who you’re meant to be.

Click here to learn more