it's been 10 years since I have spoken to my mother

why love is not enough and the pain of walking away

In August my birthday came and went.

With it, for the first time since I wrote ‘It’s been 6 years since I spoke to my mama’ a familiar note arrived.

It’s been four years.

This time there is no subject line.

Just text in the body of the email.

Happy birthday Vienda 🎂 followed by a cake emoji.

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The pain of walking away from someone you love for the sake of self-preservation is one that never goes away.

It ebbs and flows.

Some days I feel deep compassion. Her life has not been an easy one.

Some days I feel fierce anger. She could have done better.

Some days I really want her to say:

~ sorry that I didn’t know how to parent you
~ sorry that I was not being able to be present for you or nurture you
~ sorry that I projected my anger, bitterness and frustration into you
~ sorry that I acted so righteous and like I had everything under control
~ sorry that my conditioning destroyed every relationship in my surroundings
~ sorry that I abandoned you as often as I did because I was terrified of being abandoned myself

I want her to say

Life is hard and I was faced with many challenges but I take responsibility for the ways that I handled them.

I want her to admit that she’s not a victim but that her choices were a byproduct of circumstances.

Sorry.

I fucked up.

Like everyone else.

I did my best.

I am not right.

Or better than anyone.

All my actions were attempts to protect myself and that is my fault. Not yours

Sorry

A therapist once told me that every every child wants to hear ‘I’m sorry’ and every parent wants to hear ‘Thank you’ and often neither gets either.

A friend asked me if I could imagine ever having a relationship with my mother again.

I always hope to, I replied. But it requires behaviour changes. What I need from her is to take full responsibility for herself and her actions.

I reply to her email.

thank you. I hope you are happy and well. happy birthday on the 23rd to you too.

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Trauma can be a wellspring of growth.

Through the crucible of difficult relationships, I found unexpected healing.

It took reaching a breaking point — a place of unbearable tension and rejection — to realize a fundamental truth: I am the guardian of my own well-being.

When I finally accepted the absence of my mother’s mothering, the ensuing grief affirmed both my needs and my capacity for deep love.

I could have chosen victimhood. I could have repeated her pattern.

Instead, I embraced the painful work of feeling and healing.

My goal has always been authenticity.

To be at ease with myself, open to giving and receiving profound love. To face life with both tenderness and courage, unburdened by the past. To cultivate relationships with kindred spirits, where mutual trust and safety nurture shared vulnerability.

It's in this space — at the intersection of loss and love — that I've discovered my truest self.

Unlearning self-protective habits is painful, but necessary.

Healing often lies in doing the opposite of what once kept us safe. By embracing our raw authenticity, we allow ill-fitting relationships to fall away. It's both a death and a rebirth.

What emerges is rare and beautiful: feeling truly seen and loved by those who can hold all our complexity.

The path to genuine connection requires us to trust our own worthiness, to risk opening our hearts. And sometimes, it means having the courage to walk away from relationships that require us to diminish ourselves.