At the beginning of this year, I received the devastating news of my mother’s suicide. This tragedy was amplified by the estrangement that had marked our relationship for years. I am one among countless American adults who have made the difficult decision to distance themselves from an abusive parent. We form a community that often remains silent about our complex choices due to societal shame and stigma. However, we find solace in support groups and in the limited literature that addresses this topic.
Driven by a desire to combat the misplaced shame surrounding parental estrangement and raise awareness about this growing phenomenon, I share my story. My mother battled mental illness throughout her life, which led both my sister and me to make the agonizing decision to cease contact for the sake of our own well-being and that of our children. After decades of failed attempts to maintain a relationship, we realized the futility of our efforts.
Born in 1955 to an unmarried couple, my mother faced societal disapproval and shame in the conservative Irish Catholic environment of Boston. As a baby, she was sent to live with relatives in Nova Scotia while her mother prepared for her new life. When her grandmother remarried a few years later, she retrieved her. My mother endured emotional and physical abuse at the hands of her alcoholic stepfather, who she mistakenly believed was her biological father.
Despite her hardships, she found solace in literature, music, and education. As a teenager, she worked to pay her own tuition at a private high school, recognizing education as a lifeline and a way to escape her troubled upbringing.
My father, also an alcoholic, abandoned our family when I was just three weeks old. The responsibility of raising two young children alone placed an immense burden on my mother, exacerbating her mental health issues. She struggled with borderline personality disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, and depression, manifesting in abusive behavior towards her children and grandchildren.
She would erupt in anger, abruptly cutting people out of her life for extended periods. Other times, she would idealize and then abruptly denounce people, places, or things. She struggled with financial management, declaring bankruptcy multiple times. These patterns are common among survivors of complex trauma.
Although my mother possessed strengths, her mental health issues hindered her ability to maintain stable relationships. Having never experienced secure love herself, she struggled to provide healthy parenting to my sister and me.
While I experienced a range of emotions upon learning of my mother’s suicide, shock was not among them. She had made two near-fatal suicide attempts in the past 25 years, each time blaming my sister and me. We would visit her in hospitals and psychiatric wards, encouraging her to engage in aftercare treatment plans. However, once released, she would promptly abandon her treatment.
Her threats of self-harm were often used as a means of manipulation when she was angry. One such attempt occurred when I was 20 years old, requiring the fire department to break into her locked apartment. That close call marked the first time I read one of her suicide notes. After her death, I found her final note.
Among my mother’s belongings was a sealed box containing journals she had kept throughout her life. Reading them, I discovered the depths of her depression and suicidal ideation. Her first serious suicide attempt occurred at the age of 14, shortly after learning the truth about her biological father. Decades ago, she had written that she had “no doubt” that her life would end by suicide.
Outside our family, my mother often concealed her abusive behavior, leading others to perceive her differently. I acknowledge that some may have known a side of her that I did not. I do not seek to diminish their positive experiences with her. I also cherish the good memories I have of her.
Her shortcomings did not diminish my love for her. However, my empathy could not extend to sacrificing my own mental health. Five years prior to her death, I made the difficult decision to cease contact. Navigating a relationship with her without experiencing dangerous dissociation was impossible, especially as a new parent, trauma survivor, and individual in recovery from addiction.
When a child chooses to distance themselves from a parent, they often face judgment and confusion. This is particularly true in cultures that emphasize familial loyalty and silence around difficult emotions. Recently, an uncle attempted to pressure me into altering my mother’s published obituary, ashamed of her birth to a different father than her siblings. I refused. He later accused my sister and me of causing our mother’s death by breaking her heart.
I am committed to breaking the toxic cycle of family secrets and shame. Through years of therapy and working with other trauma survivors, I have learned that children do not estrange themselves from their parents without exhausting all other options. This was certainly my experience.
Despite the hardships and distance between my mother and me, I am proud of her resilience. By emphasizing the power of education, she unwittingly provided me with the tools to find my own liberation. Ironically, the path to liberation she sought for me ultimately led to our separation.
The decision to estrange oneself from a parent is agonizing. It is made with careful consideration and often with empathy for the abuser’s own struggles. Adults who estrange themselves from abusive parents deserve the same grace and understanding afforded to survivors of intimate partner abuse. Only then can we emerge from the shadows and create a public community dedicated to breaking toxic generational patterns.
Brendan Little is a consultant, harm reduction advocate, and documentary filmmaker.
