My therapist once told me this — guilt is a manageable emotion.
It’s been my mantra ever since whenever I need it. It means that I can bear this awful sensation if it means I get to live a fuller life with autonomy.
The alternative is to be consumed by it rather than simply carrying it. And that would be terrible waste of a life. I realize she chose this option. Or perhaps she didn’t have the options I did.
I wish I could change things so she could love her life too. But I’ve finally learned only we can do this for ourselves.
This was far too relatable and so beautifully written. I read each word, nodding along. I too have a no-contact relationship with my mother that is more her choice than mine, which makes it easier and harder at the same time.
"Healing the Mother Wound is not about blaming our mothers—it is about reclaiming ourselves." I needed these words today more than I knew. Thank you! I look forward to reading more.
It’s so difficult to navigate the emotions around no-contact when it wasn’t our choice. On the one hand, there is far less turmoil not having her in my life. On the other, oh how sharp the knives of rejection and abandonment cut. I still get caught in the thought-trap of, “what kind of mother chooses to abandon her child?”, which is not helpful but human. Thanks for your thoughts, Jennifer! Sending much love ❤️
I get caught in the thought trap of, "How awful must I be for my mother to reject me in my truest form?" That one really stabs me in the gut when I'm feeling low.
So grateful for you Kathy and this has been my experience too. Every time I went on holiday, I'd always go with a heavy heart as my Mum used to hate me going away. She was always so effusive when I got back and would want to hug me all the time, but I felt so resentful and could barely reciprocate. I never had a truthful conversation with her in my life and all I can do now is to try to break the chain.
That sounds so smothering, and such a huge burden for you to have to be her emotional support. Sending love as you continue to deconstruct all of these things ❤️
The title of this post immediately peaked my interest. I could already tell it was going to stir up some emotions that I wasn't ready to feel in the moment, so I made a mental note to come back to it. I needed to be "ready" to read it and I'm glad that I did. It confirmed what I already knew about my estranged relationship with my mother and revealed truths I needed to acknowledge. I appreciate your in-depth analysis of this affliction. Thank you for helping me to get that much further along in my healing journey.
This was so beautiful and insightful. My mother did and does hold herself accountable for our (my and my siblings’) childhood wounds, and has actively worked to repair. And yet still, that wound set me up for toxic relationship after toxic relationship, and it was only after escaping an abusive marriage that I really started reclaiming myself.
My mother’s own wounds from childhood were passed from her mother, and from her mother before. It makes me wonder how far back it goes. The song The Baton by Katie Gavin comes to mind for us.
It’s so true that we’re taught to ignore our wounds or to say we’ve forgiven them because our moms were “doing their best,” but doing your best doesn’t mean you can’t still do harm and that the wound doesn’t need to be healed. I thought forgiving her would do that, but I’m only seeing 10 years later how much work I still have to do, now that I’m finally (mostly) away from my ex-husband’s abuse.
I’m sorry your mother cut you off like that rather than acknowledge her own shortcomings and your very real pain. As a mother of two myself, I can’t imagine making that choice. I feel like I apologize to my children nearly every day for falling short in some way.
It’s so true that even if our mother’s are able to acknowledge and validate the pain they caused, it doesn’t fix or remove the trauma we suffered because of it. The wounds are still there, and we don’t get to sidestep the work and the healing just because they’re sorry. And likewise, I have four children—two daughters—and it is unfathomable to me to consider never seeing or speaking to them again because they asked me to validate any pain I might have caused them.
“We don’t get to sidestep the work and the healing just because they’re sorry.” Drop the freaking mic.
My mom told me a few years ago, as I was processing and coming to her about some things, that if at any point I needed to go no contact with her as part of my healing process, that it was okay and that she would be there when I was ready. She validates my feelings, acknowledges that she caused pain, and even recognizes some of the ways that my childhood wounds affect me as an adult and before I do. And when that happens, she brings it to me in the most loving way. To me, that’s what accountability looks like. I know I’m not perfect and that my children will come to me and say, “mom, this really hurt us,” and I will say, “you are so right, and I am so sorry. How can I help make it right? What does support look like for you right now?” Just because we tried our best doesn’t mean we’re always going to get it right, and harm is still harm even when it’s unintentional.
I said it before, but I’m going to say it again. I’m so sorry your mom chose to end your relationship instead of working toward healing with you. That is so painful and you deserve so much better. you sound like a dang good mama. Your kiddos are lucky to have you.
What a beautiful legacy your mother has given in allowing herself to be accountable for her actions and owning them and walking alongside you as you work through them. That’s fierce and brave and the most loving thing she could do. What a gift, and one that you have now passed down to your own children. God, I love cycle breakers ❤️
She calls me the cycle breaker but honestly— she doesn’t give herself enough credit. And I know my daughter will be able to go so much further than I can and that continuing that healing will be so beautiful.
Cycle breaking is as rewarding as it is exhausting. I hope you’re giving yourself the credit you deserve, too. 🩵🩵
Reading this chapter on guilt in Bless The Daughters really touched a deep place in me. So much of the guilt I’ve carried, especially around my mother, felt like a heavy, silent weight, shaping how I show up in the world. What struck me is how this guilt isn’t truly mine, but something learned and conditioned, a kind of shadow that keeps me small and afraid to embrace my own light. In the quiet moments of prayer and chanting, I’ve come to see that the Divine within me longs to be free of these chains. Bhakti reminds me that my true identity is as a beloved child of God, inherently worthy and radiant. Releasing this toxic guilt is not just psychological healing; it’s a sacred act of surrender and self-acceptance, opening space to live joyfully in the grace and love that’s always been my birthright. This chapter feels like a blessing and a call to step fully into that divine freedom, trusting that by honouring my own needs, I honour the Divine’s work within me.
Alicia, thank you so much for your encouraging words! I’m so thankful you found my page. I haven’t written anything about daughters who have experienced the death of their mothers at a young age, simply because I feel it’s important to only ever write from your lived experience, and I don’t feel I could do justice to such an important topic having not experienced it myself. It is something I’ve thought of often as I’ve written this book, though. I imagine there are similarities in experiencing the Mother Wound and the grief surrounding the relationship with our mothers both in death and estrangement—the lack of closure, and feelings of abandonment especially.
There truly are. I particularly relate to the feeling of guilt when criticizing my dead mom in any way, as the pressure to enshrine her memory now that she's departed is so strong. One of my siblings particularly objects to my sharing any memory of my mom that makes her sound like a flawed human versus an angel. There's also a lot of deep hurt and anger around how my father and mother neglected my needs while my mother was sick, which brings more guilt because *of course* you have to put the needs of a dying woman over those of a healthy child. I should probably write about this, huh?
Despite the heaviness of this subject, I did just laugh out loud at your final sentence. It would be an amazing article based on the wisdom you’ve gained from your life experience—which—I’m sorry, and understand that deep hurt and pain. Sending love ❤️
Sending love right back, and I'm glad you got a giggle. "I guess I should write about this" is sort of my equivalent of Doris in "Fame" saying, "I should remember this feeling so I can use it in my acting!"
Sadly, many women are still grappling with all this when they become mothers themselves. Wounded, they rightly feel unable to be ideal mothers to their own children, yet their own experiences make them especially motivated towards that ideal. And so the cycle of guilt is intensified and prolonged.
My therapist once told me this — guilt is a manageable emotion.
It’s been my mantra ever since whenever I need it. It means that I can bear this awful sensation if it means I get to live a fuller life with autonomy.
The alternative is to be consumed by it rather than simply carrying it. And that would be terrible waste of a life. I realize she chose this option. Or perhaps she didn’t have the options I did.
I wish I could change things so she could love her life too. But I’ve finally learned only we can do this for ourselves.
Thank you so much for sharing!
Thank you so much for reading, and sharing these thoughts, they really resonate with me! Sending much love ❤️
This was far too relatable and so beautifully written. I read each word, nodding along. I too have a no-contact relationship with my mother that is more her choice than mine, which makes it easier and harder at the same time.
"Healing the Mother Wound is not about blaming our mothers—it is about reclaiming ourselves." I needed these words today more than I knew. Thank you! I look forward to reading more.
It’s so difficult to navigate the emotions around no-contact when it wasn’t our choice. On the one hand, there is far less turmoil not having her in my life. On the other, oh how sharp the knives of rejection and abandonment cut. I still get caught in the thought-trap of, “what kind of mother chooses to abandon her child?”, which is not helpful but human. Thanks for your thoughts, Jennifer! Sending much love ❤️
I get caught in the thought trap of, "How awful must I be for my mother to reject me in my truest form?" That one really stabs me in the gut when I'm feeling low.
I know that one, too. We are both so worthy, regardless ❤️
So grateful for you Kathy and this has been my experience too. Every time I went on holiday, I'd always go with a heavy heart as my Mum used to hate me going away. She was always so effusive when I got back and would want to hug me all the time, but I felt so resentful and could barely reciprocate. I never had a truthful conversation with her in my life and all I can do now is to try to break the chain.
That sounds so smothering, and such a huge burden for you to have to be her emotional support. Sending love as you continue to deconstruct all of these things ❤️
This showed up in my thread. It feels like it was written for me. Thank you for writing such an incredible article. Bless you!!
I’m so glad it found you, Muzikluvr. Sending love ❤️
The title of this post immediately peaked my interest. I could already tell it was going to stir up some emotions that I wasn't ready to feel in the moment, so I made a mental note to come back to it. I needed to be "ready" to read it and I'm glad that I did. It confirmed what I already knew about my estranged relationship with my mother and revealed truths I needed to acknowledge. I appreciate your in-depth analysis of this affliction. Thank you for helping me to get that much further along in my healing journey.
This was so beautiful and insightful. My mother did and does hold herself accountable for our (my and my siblings’) childhood wounds, and has actively worked to repair. And yet still, that wound set me up for toxic relationship after toxic relationship, and it was only after escaping an abusive marriage that I really started reclaiming myself.
My mother’s own wounds from childhood were passed from her mother, and from her mother before. It makes me wonder how far back it goes. The song The Baton by Katie Gavin comes to mind for us.
It’s so true that we’re taught to ignore our wounds or to say we’ve forgiven them because our moms were “doing their best,” but doing your best doesn’t mean you can’t still do harm and that the wound doesn’t need to be healed. I thought forgiving her would do that, but I’m only seeing 10 years later how much work I still have to do, now that I’m finally (mostly) away from my ex-husband’s abuse.
I’m sorry your mother cut you off like that rather than acknowledge her own shortcomings and your very real pain. As a mother of two myself, I can’t imagine making that choice. I feel like I apologize to my children nearly every day for falling short in some way.
It’s so true that even if our mother’s are able to acknowledge and validate the pain they caused, it doesn’t fix or remove the trauma we suffered because of it. The wounds are still there, and we don’t get to sidestep the work and the healing just because they’re sorry. And likewise, I have four children—two daughters—and it is unfathomable to me to consider never seeing or speaking to them again because they asked me to validate any pain I might have caused them.
“We don’t get to sidestep the work and the healing just because they’re sorry.” Drop the freaking mic.
My mom told me a few years ago, as I was processing and coming to her about some things, that if at any point I needed to go no contact with her as part of my healing process, that it was okay and that she would be there when I was ready. She validates my feelings, acknowledges that she caused pain, and even recognizes some of the ways that my childhood wounds affect me as an adult and before I do. And when that happens, she brings it to me in the most loving way. To me, that’s what accountability looks like. I know I’m not perfect and that my children will come to me and say, “mom, this really hurt us,” and I will say, “you are so right, and I am so sorry. How can I help make it right? What does support look like for you right now?” Just because we tried our best doesn’t mean we’re always going to get it right, and harm is still harm even when it’s unintentional.
I said it before, but I’m going to say it again. I’m so sorry your mom chose to end your relationship instead of working toward healing with you. That is so painful and you deserve so much better. you sound like a dang good mama. Your kiddos are lucky to have you.
What a beautiful legacy your mother has given in allowing herself to be accountable for her actions and owning them and walking alongside you as you work through them. That’s fierce and brave and the most loving thing she could do. What a gift, and one that you have now passed down to your own children. God, I love cycle breakers ❤️
She calls me the cycle breaker but honestly— she doesn’t give herself enough credit. And I know my daughter will be able to go so much further than I can and that continuing that healing will be so beautiful.
Cycle breaking is as rewarding as it is exhausting. I hope you’re giving yourself the credit you deserve, too. 🩵🩵
Holy cow. That was eye opening!
Impossible to un-see, once you’ve seen it!
Thank you for sharing this! Looking forward to reading about inability to make a decision and if this kind of wound is related to that struggle.
Thank you, Sarah! Appreciate you being here!
Thank you for this Kathy! You continue to help me heal!
Much love 🧡
Reading this chapter on guilt in Bless The Daughters really touched a deep place in me. So much of the guilt I’ve carried, especially around my mother, felt like a heavy, silent weight, shaping how I show up in the world. What struck me is how this guilt isn’t truly mine, but something learned and conditioned, a kind of shadow that keeps me small and afraid to embrace my own light. In the quiet moments of prayer and chanting, I’ve come to see that the Divine within me longs to be free of these chains. Bhakti reminds me that my true identity is as a beloved child of God, inherently worthy and radiant. Releasing this toxic guilt is not just psychological healing; it’s a sacred act of surrender and self-acceptance, opening space to live joyfully in the grace and love that’s always been my birthright. This chapter feels like a blessing and a call to step fully into that divine freedom, trusting that by honouring my own needs, I honour the Divine’s work within me.
I can’t tell you how much I love this, Urvasi. I’m so, so thankful for the privilege of my words walking beside your healing journey ❤️
This is fantastic stuff. Just subscribed. Do you also write about the mother wound of daughters whose mothers died young?
Alicia, thank you so much for your encouraging words! I’m so thankful you found my page. I haven’t written anything about daughters who have experienced the death of their mothers at a young age, simply because I feel it’s important to only ever write from your lived experience, and I don’t feel I could do justice to such an important topic having not experienced it myself. It is something I’ve thought of often as I’ve written this book, though. I imagine there are similarities in experiencing the Mother Wound and the grief surrounding the relationship with our mothers both in death and estrangement—the lack of closure, and feelings of abandonment especially.
There truly are. I particularly relate to the feeling of guilt when criticizing my dead mom in any way, as the pressure to enshrine her memory now that she's departed is so strong. One of my siblings particularly objects to my sharing any memory of my mom that makes her sound like a flawed human versus an angel. There's also a lot of deep hurt and anger around how my father and mother neglected my needs while my mother was sick, which brings more guilt because *of course* you have to put the needs of a dying woman over those of a healthy child. I should probably write about this, huh?
Despite the heaviness of this subject, I did just laugh out loud at your final sentence. It would be an amazing article based on the wisdom you’ve gained from your life experience—which—I’m sorry, and understand that deep hurt and pain. Sending love ❤️
Sending love right back, and I'm glad you got a giggle. "I guess I should write about this" is sort of my equivalent of Doris in "Fame" saying, "I should remember this feeling so I can use it in my acting!"
Thank you so much for this read. It means a lot to me. Xx
I’m so glad, Victoria! Sending much love xx
Thank you ❤️ I have been driving around all day feeling guilty. No more being small! My 60 forward is my choice.. With boundaries and broad shoulders.
Love this ❤️
Let me get my tears ready lol
This one's a keeper!
Sadly, many women are still grappling with all this when they become mothers themselves. Wounded, they rightly feel unable to be ideal mothers to their own children, yet their own experiences make them especially motivated towards that ideal. And so the cycle of guilt is intensified and prolonged.