Mothers Who Can't Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters

by Forward, Susan

  Chapter 13

  The Most Difficult Decision

  “It’s come down to a choice between

  my mother and my well-being.”

  No one can magically give a mother the desire to have a better relationship with her daughter. Some mothers’ defenses, and the unloving behavior that comes with them, are stronger than any maternal feelings. When that happens, some women have the skills and willingness to maintain a distant, superficial relationship. But others find that a tea party relationship can’t insulate them enough from their mothers’ control or criticism or enmeshment. That leaves one very difficult option: breaking off contact.

  No one comes to this decision lightly. Through all the work they do on themselves and all the skills they learn, daughters watch for any sign that their mothers are responding positively. It’s wrenching for them to realize that it’s not going to happen and that the only way to end the destructive patterns that are eroding their lives is to end the relationship.

  Deciding to break off contact, and then following through, is one of the hardest things a woman will ever do. It may be the hardest. But for those who have exhausted their options, and themselves, it’s often the step that frees them to have the healthy, rewarding lives they long for. In this chapter, I’ll show you how I helped my client Karen navigate this difficult option. I don’t recommend taking this step without support, and if you are considering it, I urge you to seek out a therapist who will actively guide you, keep you focused, and validate you through the process of both cutting off and rebuilding a life without your mother in it.

  Breaking Off: When Everything Else Has Failed

  Breaking off is a last resort. It comes after women have run out of ways to give their mothers the benefit of the doubt and can no longer cling to the impossible hope of a miraculous “happily ever after”—or even a nontoxic next encounter.

  Karen, whose mother actively opposed her plan to marry her fiancé, Daniel, worked hard to set limits on her mother’s insults and attacks on the relationship. But her mother had been deaf to her position statements and her firm, nondefensive requests for change.

  KAREN: “I just had another call from Mom. I really can’t listen to her go on about Daniel anymore, so I’ve been keeping her at arm’s length. I’ve tried everything. I thought we could have a tea party relationship, but all she ever wants to talk about is how Daniel is ruining my life. Nothing is working, Susan. Nothing. She calls my position statements ‘psychobabble.’ But today was the worst. I did what you said last week and wrote her a letter to try and negotiate for a better relationship. I told her that if we were going to have any kind of relationship, the topic of Daniel was off-limits, and I also said we couldn’t stay in contact if she didn’t get some therapy.

  “Well, I got my answer. She called me this morning and immediately started screaming at me. She said, ‘I’m not sick. You’re the one who’s sick. Everything would be fine if not for this intruder coming into our lives.’ I cut her off before she could go on, but it was awful. What am I going to do?”

  Even when you’ve braced yourself for a negative reaction when you spell out your conditions for the relationship, it’s deeply unsettling, and even shocking, to get a response from your mother that says, in essence, “No. I’m not willing to bend. Not even when I know how much I’m hurting you.” Any denial about how little she’s able to respect your needs and wishes vanishes in the harsh light of that response.

  I asked Karen what she wanted to do.

  KAREN: “I didn’t actually believe that it would come to this, Susan… . But if she doesn’t change—and she hasn’t changed a bit—it could ruin my relationship with Daniel… . I’m at the end of my rope. She’s controlled and humiliated me so often, and I just don’t think I can be around her at all anymore.”

  A daughter like Karen, who comes to the conclusion that she can’t have the life she wants with her mother in it, is faced with a choice between her mother and her emotional well-being. It’s imperative that she choose the latter.

  Once she’s made that pivotal decision, the steps she takes next must clearly demonstrate her strength, independence, and ability to follow through on what she says—not just to her mother, but also to herself. She must hold fast to the knowledge that she’s a strong, independent woman, not a helpless child, and can survive in the world without her mother. That means putting aside all the tenacious “what-ifs” and “if onlys” and “if I’m just good enough she’ll have to love me” longings, and all the fantasies of what might have been. “It’s time for you to release those damaging fictions once and for all,” I told Karen. “They never served you well.”

  Telling Her It’s Over

  The best way to tell your mother about your decision to break off contact with her, I told her, is through a short, direct letter. This is not a time to recap old hurts, ask questions, or demand apologies. The job of this letter is to tell her, simply and clearly, that it’s no longer possible to have a relationship with her. The letter should be brief and nondefensive. It shouldn’t take much more than a paragraph or two.

  I told Karen to structure the letter like this:

  “Mom, after much thought I have decided that it is in my best interest to not have any further contact with you. That means no phone calls, no letters, no e-mails, and no coming over. I am not going to spend any more time with you. Please respect my wishes.”

  It’s important to avoid double messages that leave the door open a crack, I told her. Her mother wouldn’t take her letter seriously unless it was unambiguous.

  I told Karen that it’s not a good idea to try to communicate this message in person. An action like this wouldn’t be necessary if her mother had been at all receptive to her requests, or even willing to listen. Daughters need to stay calm and focused on what they need to say, and the most effective way to do that is in writing. I ask my clients to write their letters by hand and mail them instead of using e-mail. The sight of her daughter’s handwriting will underline to a mother that the words aren’t coming from an anonymous machine.

  My last bit of advice for Karen was not to do this by phone—it would be too easy for her mother to hang up or bombard her without letting her finish.

  Karen’s letter closely followed the above format, but of course she struggled to get the words down.

  KAREN: “At first, I had things in there like, ‘All I want is for you to meet me halfway, I know we could have a good relationship if only you could see how good Daniel is.’ I pleaded and wished and, to tell you the truth, I really grieved. Because when I reread that first draft, it really hit me how little I’ve gotten from all my years of wishing and pleading.” (Her eyes welled up, and she took a deep breath before continuing.)

  “So I remembered what you said about keeping it short and to the point, and got on with just telling her. It felt right to spell out what I meant by cutting off contact, because honestly, I don’t know if she’d get it otherwise. I know she doesn’t believe I’d ever have it in me to do this.”

  Karen read her letter to me, and I told her that she’d done a fine job. I reassured her that what she was feeling was expected. Daughters report being flooded with many emotions as they wrote their cutoff letter—sadness, disappointment, fear about consequences, self-doubt, a terrible sense of loss, and most of all, overwhelming guilt about what they were doing. Karen hadn’t let those feelings stop her as she focused on what she needed to do, and wrote her letter. She’d now have to keep facing down those emotional demons as she dealt with the inevitable fallout.

  KAREN: “So … I just pop the letter in the mail and wait for the bomb to explode?”

  SUSAN: “You focus on your life with Daniel and the people who really love you, you plan your wedding, and feel what it’s like to live without those daily doses of negativity from your mother.”

  KAREN: “I’m looking forward to that. But this seems so … final. I know I’ve done everything I can—I know that, but it’s going to be rough for a w
hile. I know my family—the relatives on Mom’s side—are just going to flip out. My guilt went through the roof just now when I read the letter to you. It’s not so much Mom I’m worried about, it’s everyone else… .”

  Exorcising the Guilt

  Before we could work through Karen’s fears about how her family would react, and come up with strategies for handling other people’s responses, I needed to help her calm her guilt about the enormous step she was taking. Many daughters believe they don’t have the right to cut off from their mothers—after all, if it’s a taboo to say anything bad about your mother, it can seem unthinkable to end the relationship with her, even when staying in contact is seriously undermining their well-being. Daughters feel incredible guilt—for challenging the status quo, for taking an action that shakes the foundation of their concept of family, for daring to do what’s best for them instead of continuing to sacrifice themselves to other people’s expectations. Perhaps most of all, they feel guilty for being the one to say “enough” and cut the ties that bound them to a mother who could not love them and wouldn’t begin to try.

  One of the best techniques I know for dealing with that mountain of guilt is to pull it into the light and challenge it. I asked Karen to do that by finding an image of a “monster” that she could use to represent her guilt and anxiety, and then talking to it and letting it know that it could no longer run her life.

  I suggested that she search for an image online and print it out or tear one from a magazine. Karen found hers in National Geographic, a sea monster guarding the corner of an old map.

  She set it in front of her, stared at it for a minute, and began to speak:

  KAREN (to her guilt): “I don’t fully understand how you came to be such a big part of my life, but I am here to tell you to get out. I no longer need you, I don’t want you, and I’m not going to satisfy you. You made me do things that violated my own self-respect and integrity.

  “You made me afraid. I was afraid of consequences, of doing what I wanted and knowing who I really am. It’s your fault that I feel so tormented about doing what I need to do to have the life I want. I’ve spent so much time satisfying you and making you happy and being what you wanted me to be. Those days are over!

  “I’m the only person whose approval I need. I need to learn to be happy with who I am and what I want to be. I get to choose who I let into my life and who I keep out of it, and how I want my life to play out. I am in control of this, not you.

  “I’m not going to let you demonize me for doing what’s best for me.

  “Good riddance!”

  KAREN: “Wow, that surprised me, all that power and determination.”

  A sense of power often surges when daughters sit down and tell their guilt they’re not willing to let it steer their lives anymore. In doing that, they’re also informing their unconscious mind that they will no longer let their emotional demons stand in the way.

  Strategies for Handling the Reactions of Family and Friends

  Karen had been sustained by a loving aunt and cousins, and her greatest fear was that she’d lose them. Many women worry not only about the repercussions of breaking off with their mothers but also about being frozen out of the rest of the family. Upsetting the balance of a whole family system by changing your own behavior can be frightening.

  KAREN: “I don’t know what to do, what to say, how to tell them… .”

  I told Karen she wouldn’t have to worry about telling her extended family—her mother would almost certainly let everyone know what had happened. Unloving mothers are likely to sound the alarm, rallying support for themselves to oppose what many are likely to describe as their daughters’ “sickness” or “outrageous behavior.”

  KAREN: “God, the family is going to come down on me like a boulder. I don’t know how my aunt will take it, and I know there are people who are really going to go ballistic.”

  I advised her to be prepared for a variety of reactions—including positive ones from unexpected quarters. “You don’t know who will do what,” I told her. “But remember that people who really love you will support you as you do what’s best for yourself. And you can use all your nondefensive skills to deal with the ones who don’t.”

  Daughters often face family members who call up as advocates for their mothers and demand apologies. Relatives may blast a daughter with criticism. In a religious family, they may invoke their tradition’s version of “Honor thy mother.” They may blame the daughter for breaking up the family or say things like, “You’re killing your mother. She’s crying herself to sleep every night.”

  I remind my clients that they don’t have to let themselves be bombarded or patiently sit still for a tirade. They’ve had more than enough of that. I advise them to use the communication skills they’ve learned and turn to reliable nondefensive responses such as, “I’m sure you see it that way” and “You’re entitled to your opinion.” I also suggest using statements like this:

  • This is between my mother and me.

  • I don’t choose to have this conversation.

  • This is my decision and it’s not negotiable.

  • This topic is off-limits. If you want to talk to me, we’ll have to talk about something else.

  • I know you’re concerned, but I don’t want to discuss this.

  While a daughter needn’t discuss her decision with every aunt, uncle, and cousin, it is important that she speak individually to members of her immediate family—her father, if he’s in her life, and her siblings if she has any—to let them know that she’s taken this step to protect her emotional health. You can’t control their reactions, I tell my clients, but you can urge them not to take sides.

  KAREN: “What about family stuff like birthday parties and Christmas? Do I have to call and see if Mom’s going to be there?”

  SUSAN: “What would you think about not going at all? I know that might be hard. But I think it would be very difficult for you to be in same room with your mother. That could activate all the old patterns you’ve worked so hard to diminish.

  “Remember, you’re trying to build a new life. Make it clean. There may not be as many people around you when you do this, but the ones who are left will be good for you instead of destructive.”

  Karen decided she wanted to make a little ceremony of dropping her letter to her mother in the mailbox and asked her fiancé, Daniel, to go with her.

  KAREN: “He put his arm around me and told me again how much he loves me and how proud he was of what I’m doing. I cried. I thought I was over the grief, but I guess that will take a while. I feel so close to Daniel now, though. It really helps.”

  In the weeks after she sent her letter, Karen did face some of the angry phone calls and encounters with family members that she’d expected. But not everyone was incredulous or upset.

  KAREN: “My aunt Meg, my mother’s sister, the one I was so worried about? I couldn’t believe what she said when I had lunch with her and told her what I was doing. She put her arm around me and said, ‘I understand perfectly, honey. Your mother’s always been a bitch.’ I had to laugh, and I hadn’t laughed in a while. I know Meg will be there for me. She always has been. I can’t say this has been easy, but I’ve got the comfort of knowing she really loves me. Meg even offered to stand up with me at the wedding.”

  There’s no sudden “happily ever after” once a daughter breaks off contact with her mother. Many of my clients tell me that they feel great relief and pride, and almost everyone wrestles with self-doubt and guilt for a while. It’s not uncommon at all to bounce between highs and lows. After a particularly rough encounter with her sister, who blasted her for “letting that man break up our family and devastate Mother,” Karen was shaken.

  KAREN: “I know I did the right thing. But it’s hard to see everyone so upset. What if they’re right and I just made the biggest mistake of my life? When I hear myself say that, I know it’s not true, but I’m so up and down about this. It’s hard sometimes to be the one
who divorced her own mother.”

  I reassured Karen that the doubts would ease. “You have to remember that you’re taking good care of your self-respect and your integrity, and that will pay off in a big way as you go along,” I told her. “Do you really want to go back to the way things were, and live with your mother’s constant criticism of you and Daniel, just so you can placate your sister and other family members? You’re powerless to change your mother, but you’re doing a great job of changing yourself, and that’s all you can do. All this second-guessing will ease up. Time is your best friend right now. You’re not going to feel great all at once, but it will happen, day by day.”

  I reminded her that family isn’t determined solely by blood—and that she was discovering her family of choice, the people who loved and respected and valued her enough to stay in her life now.

  KAREN: “You know, you’re right. Daniel’s family has been so wonderful to me, it’s like they’ve adopted me.”

  SUSAN: “See, you do have a family. And you and Daniel will have a family, too.”

  It takes time for life to settle into its new shape after daughters have delivered the news to their mother. I always urge my clients to have a strong support system in place—not just a therapist, but also true friends and supportive family members who can remind them of the importance of sticking to their decision, even in the face of extreme pressure or hostility. “You will grieve, and you will have to keep facing down guilt and uncertainty,” I told Karen. “But little by little, the pain will disappear. And you’ll feel the roots of a new, healthier life spreading beneath you.”

  Chapter 14

  Old, Sick, or Alone: