We began a begrudging relationship, but I’ve realised you cannot rewrite the past – she is incapable of love
Estrangement between parents and children is increasingly common and is thought to affect one in five families in the UK. Reasons given for estrangement vary but typically involve abuse, unaddressed mental health issues, ideological symptoms or substance abuse.
Here, Sara*, 57, tells how she had no contact with her mother for more than a decade – and what happened when they reconciled.
I’ve always had a very difficult relationship with my mum. She is a narcissist and she was always verbally and psychologically abusive. Nothing I ever did was good enough and to this day she has never paid me a single compliment. She told me repeatedly that I was so ugly, no one was going to marry me, I was so stupid and I’d never do anything in life. It’s always been like that.
As a child, I could see what a loving mum was through seeing my friends’ mothers and knew I didn’t have that, but I put up with it until I finished school. I left France and came to London, partly because I fell in love with the city, but mostly to escape my mother. But even then I didn’t escape – I would go home every summer to see my dad (who I adored) and my brother. The abuse didn’t stop.
Then, my mum asked my dad for a divorce. It was summer 1996. She called me because my uncle, my dad’s brother, had written a character witness that depicted my dad as a good father. She was very vitriolic. I can’t even repeat the language that she would use when she talked about my dad.
I told her that nothing my uncle said was a lie and she said to me: “Oh, I see. Once more, your dad is right and I’m wrong.” Then she put the phone down.
I remember that day so clearly. It was a beautiful, sunny day, 18th August 1996. When she put the phone down I waited for a few minutes, assuming she would call me back. She’d never hung up on me before. I waited one minute, two minutes, three minutes. At which point my husband walked past and I said to him: “It’s over. I’ll never hear from her again.” I felt lighter. A huge black cloud had been removed.
We didn’t speak at all for 10 years. She found out I was pregnant a few weeks after that call and it did not move her at all. Then in 2006 my brother passed away.
At that point my parents were divorced and my mum had sold the family home and had been living with my brother. I went to see her. My dad dropped me off outside her door and I saw her for the first time in ten years.
It was weird. She was 74 and she’d looked smaller than I remember. Not only had I lived 10 years without her – which gave me a lot of time to heal – but she didn’t have the same authority over me. She was just this woman.
I went up to her flat and there were no traces of my brother. She told me that when she came back from the hospital she took all of his stuff and put it all on the pavement. In that moment I realised that she hadn’t changed and she is fundamentally incapable of love. Despite all her talk of how much she loved him, he was barely cold when she had removed all his stuff. It was like he was never there.
We didn’t reconcile then. We spent some time together and exchanged pleasantries. She asked about my son (by then nine years old) and showed me around her flat.
By the time I was home I remember feeling pity for her. Even though she is not affected by things the way most people are, I wouldn’t wish the loss of a child on anyone. She doesn’t have any friends and is very lonely. So I called her to ask how she was a few times. But on the third call she told me, “you don’t need to keep calling. I’ve lived perfectly well without you for ten years, I can live without you for another ten. No need to call me back.” I told her that her wish was my command and put the phone down. We didn’t speak for another five years.
Now that I was a mum myself, the memories of how she never hugged us, kissed us, or even touched us seemed so much worse. How can you see your child fall and just ignore them? But she could. It was easier to see her as “a person who is sick” rather than “my mum who let me down repeatedly”.
But on her 80th birthday I decided to call her. She answered and said: “Oh, it’s you”. I replied: “Yes, it’s me. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.” Somehow we ended up talking for half an hour.
The phone calls started up again but they were very sporadic. Over about 18 months I would call her every six months and check she was ok. She was more willing to talk to me at that point. The real reconciliation was at the end of 2023 when I went to Marseilles, rented an Airbnb and rang her doorbell. She was ever so happy to see me, as if nothing happened.
I reconnected because I wanted to hear her say that she had done me wrong. I brought up the day she told me how ugly I was – I was 14 years old. She told me she didn’t remember it and I must have dreamt it, or that I must have provoked her that day.
I very quickly realised that I was wasting my time. You cannot rewrite the past but she was now in her early 80s. I felt responsible because I was her only family member.
We had the kind of relationship where when she called me I could literally put the phone down, get a glass of water, come back and she had not stopped talking. We weren’t friends or anything, but we had a begrudging relationship. I knew she didn’t love me but she was elderly and I needed to look after her.
It continued that way until January 2024. That’s when she fell, broke her wrist, and everything changed. I moved her into a care home and because of vascular dementia she’s essentially had her memory wiped.
She’s 93 years old and we can’t have conversations. The abuse has stopped, and she seems happy when I visit her. I feel there is no point in holding a grudge at this point.
There is some sadness that having a good relationship with your mother is something I’ll never know. I’m sadder for her than for myself. She never really understood the joys of motherhood. She was so jealous of me, so petty, and so concerned with putting me down to feel better about herself. She never realised that I could have been a best friend.
When I hear stories of people going no contact it’s sometimes for really small, silly things. I had a girlfriend fall out with a sister because of a suitcase, and they didn’t speak for two years. In these cases you need to really ask if it’s worth it.
But in the case of what I’ve been through with abuse or betrayal, I completely understand. You do not have to put up with a member of your family for the sake of it if they are the source of bullying, abuse or betrayal.
I do not regret the years I spent not talking to my mother. I would do it again in a heartbeat if someone was abusive towards me. But reconciling also suited me. I was ready for it. But it cannot be about them – it’s got to be for you.
*Names have been changed