My Daughter Has Gone No-Contact With Me and Says I Was Abusive

I thought I was an amazing, self-sacrificing but struggling parent

Erich Heckel (1911), dated 1910

Dear Philippa,

I have an estranged 23-year-old daughter. I wasn’t expecting this. I thought I was an amazing, self-sacrificing but struggling parent. She explained ways in which she found me abusive. It was such a shock, but I eventually thanked her for her insights and felt dumfounded at my own. How have I not seen things that way? I acknowledge her point of view, but she no longer wants to be close to me and I am unsure I know what to do next.

I’m conflicted as to how to frame what she has shared and move on. Being a parent was always a struggle as I am disabled with multiple conditions and autism. I had an abusive and cold childhood. At times, being a single parent, I quite frankly didn’t feel capable of it. I had two disabled children, no help, only criticism and felt exhausted all the time. I had mental health issues, and I was traumatised. I still didn’t think I was a bad parent. I gave all I had, sometimes too much and crashed a lot. My body and mind were frequently sick because of it all being too much. I frequently asked for, received and accepted decent help. I understood my limitations. But never saw myself as abusive.

I acknowledge all her points and want to move forward but she wants no contact with me. I initially felt cheated and betrayed but probably would have done the same. Only, I didn’t do the same. I never lost hope of some sort of reconciliation with my own cold, aloof mother and somehow found it when she was 75. She’s not dead yet and I treasure the newfound understanding between us. I expect less and forgive more. I can’t conceive of ever turning my back on her, even though at times I should have been placed into care.

I admire the new generation for their tenacity and ability to say no to unhealthy patterns. But are we fostering an age of entitlement? I don’t think that I could ever trust my daughter again, even if she accepted my heartfelt apologies and acknowledgement of her points. I admire her but something about the way it was done feels disloyal and disenabling in terms of me being able to feel any real deep affection for her at all.

My son, who is a couple of years younger, stayed behind despite being given many opportunities to go. He says I’ve been a good enough mother for him and wants to continue living with me even though supported housing has been offered to him. It’s hard work but rewarding. I’m his carer and he has other carers who come in and take him to work etc.

I feel I did better than my own parents by a mile. And yet, I don’t disagree with her decision or perspective, I recognise that no two children will see their experience the same way. My daughter says that’s a lack of recognition and means I am unsafe to continue as a parent carer for her sibling which obviously social services don’t agree with otherwise he wouldn’t still be here.

I feel like I can’t even look at photos or the past because they have been a lie. She left at a point where I was undergoing a divorce from her stepdad, who came into their lives when they were teens and that was all pretty awful. I admit that.

How can I reframe everything. I feel confused and disoriented as being a parent was my entire identity. I no longer know who I am or even who I was, let alone who I should be now. I’m going back to work next month, and my son is doing well and my social life is also good. But I feel so disconcerted and shocked by how I now need to see the past that I now no longer know how to view it. I am often strong and positive but sometimes I just weep or sob. I’ve asked my son how I can be a better parent to him, but some of his ideas make me laugh because I have no idea how to imagine things from another person’s perspective long enough to implement them. For example, he says he wants to be surprised by gifts. But I have little imagination of what he might want. I had similar issues to this as they were growing up. For example, I realised I could not play and so sent them to nursery and youth clubs so people who knew how to do it could do it better and so it would mean they could still develop. I have tried but I literally can’t and never could play as a child.

My love language is teaching. But I realise it’s a rare love language and that’s a nightmare for some kids. I recognise now that my mum’s love language was also teaching.

I don’t know what to do. And some of the things children needed I understood but simply wasn’t capable of. My daughter calls them ‘reasons and explanations’ and says it invalidates her experience that’s as maybe. But where does leave me?

Any thoughts?