Wellness
Why I Made the Decision To Go No Contact With My Parents
Making the decision to go no contact with a parent might be something you cannot imagine doing. Feeling that way is not dependent on having a healthy relationship with a parent. Some may feel like they are unable to cut ties, even when the relationship is painful. It may feel impossible even when it’s clearly the best thing for their mental health. It probably feels too hard and too painful. If you’re reading this post, you may have considered getting to a point of no contact or maybe you just want to know more about my story. It took a lot of therapy and decades of recurring trauma (and gaslighting) to get to a point where I just couldn’t do it anymore. I tried almost everything with both of my parents. So I want to talk about why I made the decision to go no-contact.
Why I Made the Decision to go No Contact With my Parents
TW: this post discusses abuse.
I shared a little bit of my story on social media and substack. It took years before I felt like I could start to share my story. And even now, it’s so difficult. But I want to normalize trauma, which might sound weird. I don’t want this to be normal for anyone, but I want to normalize that these things can happen. It can be extremely isolating. And if we can help each other feel less alone, I suppose that gives some purpose to the pain.
As a daughter and human being, it feels unnatural not to talk to my mom. As a mother, I cannot understand it. I would do anything for my children. It is a love unlike anything I’ve ever known. I always wanted a mom that was my best friend and still wish we had a great relationship. But I know that a healthy relationship is the foundation of a great one, and she is not capable of that. I’m not sure she has that with anyone. My option was to accept things the way that they were, knowing I would never have the things I wanted and needed, or to walk away. I was so tired of sweeping trauma under the rug. Of never being enough. Things would be ok and then she’d lash out. It was too volatile. It was too much.
I have grown enough to know that things are not getting better unless she changes, and that is very unlikely. This is still really, really hard. I miss the mom I never had. And the good parts, even though they were complex and came with a cost.
Going no contact with my dad.
The decision to end contact with my dad wasn’t one I made on my own. My specific situation was a little different – he was never fully there to begin with, and then disappeared entirely. My parents split up when I was only a year old, and I only ever saw my dad on the weekends, when he showed up. He was a manipulative and absentee parent. He was a drug addict or dealer (or so I’m told), had illegitimate businesses (this I know for sure), and was the father to four children, all from different women. I was the only one he (sort of) saw.
By the time I was a teenager, I saw him maybe once a year? I barely remember seeing him. When I was about 17 or 18, I saw him for the first time in maybe a year and he had a hospital bracelet on. I asked if he had a baby, and found out that he and his girlfriend (or wife, who knows?) did, in fact, have a baby. I had no idea she was pregnant.
A year later, I got a call from the baby’s mom – he had kidnapped my baby sister and they were found in Mexico.
I was done.
I was so relieved she was ok and wanted nothing to do with any of it at the same time. He never reached out to me again, and I moved on. I felt peace. If he reached out today, I would have nothing to say. I don’t want or need anything from him. I realize how all of this may sound, but I really have found my peace.
Going no contact with my mom.
Things with my mom have always been a lot more complex. My mom raised me. She cared for me. She also blamed me for everything. I was told I would never amount to anything. I was never enough. And on 3 separate occasions, that she wished she had aborted me. Those words are never forgotten, although she denies saying it.
I’ll share one of the worst things I experienced as a child. I knew it was bad, but did not realize how bad until I became a mom. My mom was emptying the dishwasher and held a knife up to her throat. She told me she was going to kill herself and it would be all my fault.
I was nine.
I knew it wasn’t good, but didn’t realize how unhealthy that behavior was until I was older. There were other incidences but this isn’t a tell-all, even though it may sound like one. I’m leaving a lot of my story out. A lot.
While there were good times, the bad was terrible. I faced regular verbal abuse, gaslighting, and manipulation. Love was extremely conditional. The thought of my children not always feeling loved (always, no matter what), breaks my heart. I tell them I love them many, many times throughout the day, and that there’s nothing they could ever do to change that.
Navigating no-contact with your parents as your kids get older is tricky – we’ve had to have some (age appropriate) conversations. We’ve talked about how I feel sad, and how rare it is. How it will never happen with us. I won’t let it.
When it all fell apart.
It all happened around our engagement. We were in a weird place since she told me Conor called her to say he was going to propose. Because of course she did. Was it a huge deal? No. But she knew what she was doing, and I wasn’t thrilled. We got into an argument and weren’t really talking, but I called her the day before we got engaged to patch things up and she didn’t answer.
We got engaged and negativity was the last thing I wanted. Everything was so rushed with a surprise party and we flew out of the country the next morning. She knew we were engaged at this point and reached out without any congratulations. She sent a text message asking me to edit a blog post that said there was high blood pressure in my family.
I understand she was hurt, but it just felt so wrong that she couldn’t choose kindness yet again. I did not invite her to our wedding.
My mom left a message advising me to repair things with her so when my marriage eventually ended, because statistically, that was likely, I would still have a family. “Is that what you want? To be alone?” Reaching out with something hurtful was always her thing. Blame, pain, and drama as opposed to saying “I feel sad that I wasn’t a part of your engagement but I’m happy for you. Can we talk?”
I took space and then started seeing a therapist. The nasty comments continued. She called me weeks before the wedding and casually asked if my dad ever molested me. I hung up the phone and spiraled. Did he and I blocked it? Why was she asking me this?
The unraveling.
Margot got sick, and so much of that time is a blur. But during that time, she reached out just a few months later to ask for money for great aunt Rose. The timing couldn’t have felt worse – my daughter was so sick. I said I would need to see all her statements and she refused to show me anything. Of course I would have helped, but I didn’t trust her. My great aunt passed away not long after.
She pretended my great aunt Rose was on hospice when she wasn’t, and couldn’t just get it together to be kind when my daughter went through medical treatment. A few years ago, I received an email that was basically a laundry list about all the things that were wrong or difficult about me. The email ended with how she’d like to fix things. It was so twisted and confusing. I wrote back, telling her what I took from the email. It was the last time I got really worked up and upset over the way she treated me.
Finally going no contact.
I got a call on my 39th birthday. She left a voicemail saying very casually that she almost died (according to my sisters that is untrue). She talked about how her dad died on her 39th (which is true) and that I almost lost my mom and had no idea so should call her. Then she casually wished me a happy birthday. I was, for the first time, almost non-reactive. It was hardly the worst thing she had ever done, but instead of feeling angry, I felt sad for her. I made phone calls to both my sisters and asked them to tell her I got her message, and was glad she was ok.
This needed to happen in order for me to be the best version of myself for my kids. I went back to caring for my sick daughter, and we have had zero contact since. I deeply and desperately wish things were different, but you cannot force someone to change. And keeping someone who makes you feel horrible in your life was not the right thing for me. I chose me. The grieving process has been complex. I never told her I was done but we weren’t communicating regularly, so there had already sort of been a period of no contact.
I had a ton of anxiety and eventually started seeing a clinical psychologist who helped me start the healing process.
Advice for going no contact.
I never told either parent that I was “done” but just took my space. The reality is that I only really heard from my dad once a year in the first place and I was the one to reach out. I didn’t have to do anything. Things with my mom were already so strained, so in this particular situation, not saying anything felt like the best approach. I saw it as taking space while it felt right. We do not live in the same state, so there isn’t any ned to navigate the holidays or other events with my sisters.
Coming to terms with going no contact.
Even though we had a toxic relationship, there was always part of me that hoped things would change with my mom. There is still a part of me that wishes things would change. The hope has started to fade. I wouldn’t say it’s completely dead, but it’s close. The logical side of my brain knows how unlikely it is. Because of this, it feels safe to share my story.
I am 41 and am still coming to terms with the way things are. Having children has been healing, and has opened new wounds, too. It’s forced me to look at what I missed out on. No one ever loved me or cared for me the way I love and care for my children. That feels really sad. I’ve come a long way, but it’s hard. It takes time and work.
The healing process.
Enough time has passed that I think about these losses less often, but it still hurts. It is my hope that I’ll continue to heal through my experience as a mom, and in therapy. Therapy has been the most effective way to work through it. Having healthy relationships with my children has been very healing, too. The bottom line is that not talking to my parents was my best chance at happiness. You have to part ways with a toxic person (or people) in order to heal. It feels like the wrong and right decision at the same time.
Sure, I wish I had my parents around for me and my kids, too – that might be the worst part. There has been a lot of healing with motherhood, but also the realization that my mom couldn’t love me the way I love my children. I know it’s not my fault, but spent my entire life being told everything was my fault, so there’s still that part of me that holds on to that narrative.
Navigating family relationships.
My sisters talk to my mom but support me and stand with me. It is not my place to say anything about their relationship with her.
Therapy.
Therapy is so important – it’s the best way to work through it. I also rely on anxiety medication, and surrounding yourself with the family you create (whether those are friends, a partner, or children) helps, but it doesn’t take it all away. I have come a long way, but still have a lot of healing work to do. And that’s the biggest lesson – realizing that it’s ok for it not to be ok. Allowing the grief and the joy to coexist.
Getting married and becoming a mom has been wonderful, but my family does not fix or replace the losses of my parents in my life. Being a mom has almost made it harder to understand what I endured as a child. I cannot imagine trying to hurt or scare my children. I’ve gone to such great lengths to protect them. To show up for them. It’s an impossible thing fully understand or accept.
Whether the relationship is with a parent, sibling, or close friend, it is so important to know that no one deserves to be abused. I grew up being told everything was my fault. That I was selfish. I was accused of purposefully keeping my children from my mom. I hate that this is the way it has to be, and I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t feel some guilt there. But no one deserves to be cut down, manipulated, and gaslit. The more time and space that I have, and the more my kids grow up, the more I realize how bad things were. I realize that I was just a little kid who wanted to feel loved. And I won’t get that from my parents, but I can give that to my children.
You deserve more.
For those of you who have faced trauma and made the decision to protect yourself by going no-contact, know that there are more of us out there than you may think. It is the hardest decision because it goes against what we are taught. You don’t “abandon” your family. You take care of them and love them unconditionally. But I would argue that tolerating abuse or dealing with a toxic narcissist are not something we have to do. And while going no-contact or taking space hurts, it hurts less than being hurt over and over again.
We all deserve so better than that.
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