The Discarded Mom

Not that long ago—in 2022—YouGov asked over 11,000 Americans about their family relationships. Almost 3 in 10 said they were estranged from an immediate family member. Fast-forward to 2024, and that number has grown to 38%. That’s more than a third of us carrying a silent gap where a close connection used to be.

The reasons people give are as varied as families themselves—abuse, deep differences in beliefs, politics, religion, money, betrayal. But in today’s world, where life stories often play out online, the words narcissist, toxic, abusive, and hypocrite get used quickly, as the final stamp on a relationship.

One man shared a memory from when he was a boy at the beach with his mom. She told him to put down his phone, get in the water, and have fun with his friends. He remembers her sitting on the sand, scrolling on her own phone. Years later, that moment stuck with him so deeply that he cut off contact, calling her a hypocrite.

Another woman said she hates her mom for not being the kind of grandma who’s always ready to babysit and cut her out of her life. But as the story unfolded, it turned out her mom was still working full-time and caring for her own elderly mother. It wasn’t about not wanting to be there for her grandkids—it was simply a matter of time, energy, and limits.

The stories are everywhere. Adult children cutting parents out of their lives (mostly moms) for being human—for making mistakes that, in their eyes, are unforgivable. I’m not talking about situations of true abuse here—that’s an entirely different conversation. I’m talking about the everyday imperfections of parenting that somehow become grounds for estrangement.

Growing up Gen X, many of us were latchkey kids. Divorce rates were climbing, and parents often sent us outside in the morning with the instruction not to come home until the streetlights came on. We were left to our own devices, raising ourselves in so many ways.

In my own family, my parents divorced when I was 14. My dad got custody of the three of us, and because I was the oldest, most of the responsibility landed on me. Dad was rarely home—working, chasing women, or hanging with friends. I became the one cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and raising my younger siblings who were only 7 and 5 at the time. Discipline? That fell on me too. I wasn’t allowed to go out with friends because it would mean my dad actually had to parent. If I picked up a babysitting job, I had to take my siblings along. 

And I know I’m not alone. So many in my generation grew up without support, without love, without anyone to lean on. Maybe that’s why we overcompensated with our own kids. We wanted to give them everything we didn’t have—stability, affection, safety, opportunities. But here’s the hard truth: in some cases, it backfired. Instead of raising grateful, resilient kids, some of us raised children who feel entitled, self-involved, and unwilling to take accountability.

The painful part? Our children don’t just pull away quietly. They tear us down publicly, calling out every sin and mistake we ever made. We’re labeled toxic, narcissistic, awful parents. They demand “no contact” and “respect for their boundaries,” yet cry abandonment when we don’t chase after them. They want unconditional love, forgiveness, and patience from us—but refuse to extend even a fraction of that back. Because in their eyes, they’re the children, and children don’t owe their parents anything.

The community of discarded moms is heartbreakingly large — and growing. Every day, I hear mothers who have been cut off by their children. Their stories are filled with grief, confusion, and pain so deep it feels impossible to bear. Many spiral into depression or worse, because they don’t see a way forward. If that’s you, I need you to hear me clearly: the best thing you can do is move on.

I don’t say that lightly. My own daughter cut me out of her life almost four years ago. She not only walked away from me but also took my grandson — who had lived with me most of his life. The pain of losing them both was unbearable, unlike anything I had ever known. She was my Angel Girl, I was her Momma Girl, and not a day went by without us talking, texting, or seeing each other. To have that bond severed was shattering.

Our relationship wasn’t always easy. Starting in fifth grade, she began struggling with serious mental health challenges. From there, our lives became a whirlwind of therapy sessions, hospital visits, school meetings, police calls, and crisis after crisis. Nothing I tried — discipline, love, structure — seemed to help. Eventually, the county forced my hand and I had to make one of the hardest decisions of my life: sending her to live in a group home before she turned sixteen.

Her adulthood wasn’t any easier. Jobs came and went, responsibilities slipped away, and my home became her safe landing spot again and again. I gave her rent-free living, child care, use of my car — all without clear boundaries. Looking back, I know I should have set firmer expectations.

Then came a toxic relationship that turned everything upside down.

We helped her leave, only for her to go back multiple times. At one point, she even placed a restraining order on him because she felt in fear of her life and months later begged the judge to remove it. He granted her wish. We supported her when things fell apart, only to be deceived and lied to again. The breaking point came after she was once again living with us and I finally set a boundary I couldn’t take back. I discovered she was sneaking around with him and lying to us. I told her if it didn't stop, I would need to kick her out and would no longer be rescuing or helping her due to the history with this guy and her claims of his control and abuse. She didn't stop and I made her pack up and leave. I also threatened to seek custody of my grandson to protect him. Over the next 2 weeks, I apologized multiple times and we talked things over. She said she forgave me and said she understood but I could see her eyes were lying.

She sent messages full of anger and blame, but refused to meet in person. When I sought support from others, she accused me of betrayal. The truth is, she didn’t want resolution — she wanted a stage to continue hurting me. And so here we are: estranged.

The grief has been suffocating. To lose a child who is still alive is a unique kind of pain. You hear lies spread about you. You see people believe things that aren’t true. You watch others judge you for something they can’t possibly understand. For two years, I drowned in shame and depression so deep that I contemplated suicide multiple times.

But I learned something important: the pain only consumed me because I let it.

If you’re a mom in this situation, I want you to know: your life is not over. You are still here. You still matter. You still have love to give and joy to experience.

Yes, grieve. Cry. Be angry. Let yourself feel it all. But don’t stay there too long. You deserve more than the scraps of someone else’s choices. You deserve to be loved by those who have stayed by your side — the ones who still see your worth.

So how do you move on?

• Change your routine. Do something different with your days.
• Start something new. A hobby, a class, a workout routine — anything that sparks joy.
• Build new traditions. Create memories with the family and friends who are present.
• Travel. See new places, even if it’s just the next town over.
• Most of all, love yourself. Not the version your child accuses you of being — the real you.

Your story doesn’t end with your child walking away. Sometimes, it begins there.