No contact: grieving the mother I had and the one I hoped for

Life after loss.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my journey with my mum - not just the hurt or the trauma, but the full picture. I’ve written before about the decision to go no contact, and the grief that followed, but time has given me a little distance, and with it, a new perspective. I’ve started to see our relationship as an overview, not just through the sharp lens of pain and lost opportunities. The story of us was complex, all-consuming and full of sorrow, but there was also love.

I still grieve the mother I never had. I still carry sadness and guilt, but more often now, I find myself thinking, “I'll do this for us.” I can’t rewrite the past, but I can choose to live fully. To seek out joy. To learn from what hurt me and to remember the small moments that didn’t - her laugh, her humour. Sometimes I even wish I could hug her. To hold her still, stop her spiralling, and say: “I’m on your side. I love you. Let’s figure this life out together.”

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“We have to acknowledge that a narcissistic mother may be too toxic to be around. In many situations, daughters have to make the choice to disconnect completely from their mothers because the toxicity damages their emotional well-being. While others around you may not understand it, this is a decision that you get to make for your own mental health.”

- Karyl McBride, PhD, Will I Ever Be Good Enough?

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In 2022, after a particularly distressing visit, I made the heart-wrenching decision to cease contact with my mum. It wasn't a choice made lightly, but rather the culmination of years of emotional turmoil and repeated attempts to mend a relationship that continually left me feeling diminished and unworthy.

Going no contact and setting boundaries

Choosing no contact was an act of self-preservation. It meant prioritising my mental health, healing from past traumas, and breaking free from the cycle of emotional abuse. It was about reparenting myself, nurturing my inner child, and creating a safe environment for my own children.

During the time I did not have contact with my mum, I began to find solace in the little things. The joy of hearing my own thoughts without the constant echo of her criticisms. The freedom to be myself. The emergence of a newfound pride - not tied to her approval, but on the life I was building for myself and my family.

Despite the relief that came with setting boundaries, the decision was fraught with guilt and sorrow. I mourned not just the loss of my mother, but the loss of the mother I had yearned for - the one who would love me unconditionally, who would be proud of me, and with whom I could share a nurturing bond.

Complex grief

When my mum died last year, I was confronted with a complex web of emotions. My grief has not been straightforward. I felt devastated, overwhelmed with regret, and consumed by a longing to be with her. I grappled with shame, guilt, and despair.

Reflecting on our relationship, I recognise the duality of my mother's persona. To many, she could be charming and generous. Behind closed doors however, her behaviour was often unpredictable and hurtful. I understand now that her actions were influenced by her own unresolved traumas, terminal illness and narcissism. Yet, acknowledging this doesn't erase the pain she caused or the choices she made.

In the wake of her death, I oscillated between sadness and anger, compassion and bewilderment. I learned more about her deteriorating health and the suffering she endured in her final months, which added layers of complexity to my grief. I questioned whether I had failed her by not being there in the last year of her life, even as I reminded myself of the toll her presence had taken on my well-being.

One year on

Grieving a parent with whom you had a strained relationship is a unique and challenging journey. It's a process of mourning both the person and the relationship you wished you had. With such grief comes the necessary quest to rediscover yourself and what joy can look like after heartache. It requires seeking out peace in the midst of unresolved emotions and learning to forgive - not necessarily them, but yourself.

Now, I find myself slowly shifting my focus from what was, to what could be. I can’t rewrite the past, but I can honour it by choosing something different. I can live - really live - and enjoy the life I still have, for me and maybe even for her too. I can take the love I longed to give her and use it to hold my own children. I can keep healing, growing and finding joy, one small moment at a time.

I’d love to hear from you:
If you've experienced grief after estrangement or the loss of a complicated relationship, how did it shape your healing? What pulled you out of the darkness?

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Side note…

Full disclosure: my aim was to send this newsletter weekly on the same day. The truth is, processing all the emotions I share here has made it hard to stick to a regular rhythm. I’m hoping to get back into the flow soon. I’m thinking Sunday mornings or Thursday mid-mornings as a regular spot – what do you think? Or are you happy to receive it whenever it lands?

Thank you for reading,
Chloe x