As a small shadow entered my house, I saw a glimpse of an almost-stranger, the sliver of a ghost from the past. I looked over, and nervously waved. “Hi Mum,” I called over, unsure of how to approach her, before walking over, and giving her a hug.
It was her first time in my house despite the fact that we’ve been here for two years, and she’d never so much as set foot in the town we’ve moved to. Which in part, was due to the fact that she lives in America – but it’s also because we’d been estranged. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in two-and-a-half years.
While estrangement feels like it’s on the rise, there isn’t actually solid evidence to reinforce this. Research from 2014 suggested about 8 per cent of the UK population was estranged from a family member but more recent figures are scarce. It’s probably more that the taboo surrounding it has gone, and people have become more open when it comes to talking about their family schisms. As therapy has become more accepted and widespread, we’ve become more au fait with “therapy speak” – of “boundaries” and “protecting our peace” – and it feels like every year, from the Murdochs to the Beckhams, there’s a new high-profile family rift dominating headlines. But even throughout my own estrangement, I’ve never necessarily seen it as a final destination, but a path to somewhere else – and I always wondered where it led.
I didn’t stop talking to my mother over one particular thing. It was a slow build of decades of interactions: scathing late-night texts, random accusations, and emotional unease that had led to our final break. Having a husband and a family of my own had also made it abundantly clear how unhealthy my relationship with my mother had been – and made me decide that, at least for the time being, I didn’t want to have one with her at all.
In the two-and-a-half years that we were apart, I had plenty of time to think about our relationship, and I spoke to many therapists and experts on estrangement. I found that, to my surprise, therapists usually don’t recommend estrangement unless it’s in a situation that’s abusive, or if there’s addiction issues. All of the ones I had spoken to highlighted the benefits of maintaining relationships with your parents, if you’re able to find a way that feels safe and emotionally protected. They specifically mentioned how exhausting estrangement can sometimes feel to uphold, and the psychological benefits to having your parents remain in your life.
I was also told how important it was for my children to know their grandmother, if possible. Specifically, the benefits that come from grandparent relationships, and what they’d miss out on by not knowing my mother. And it was through these conversations and my own reflections, I began to consider the viability of leaving my self-imposed exile and having some kind of limited relationship with my mum.
For me, it’s not really possible to open up telecommunications with my mother. There’s no one who has ever spoken to me in such a vitriolic way, with seemingly normal interactions snowballing into chaos before ending with a finger pointed at me. And it’s this part of our relationship that I most want to eliminate from my life.
These attacks, however, only happen at night when she’s left alone with her thoughts. During the day, she’s always been fine and relatively tranquil. She’ll have polite conversations and you’d be none the wiser that she had any kind of dark thoughts brewing. I also don’t have any concerns when it comes to her spending time with my children as long as it’s during certain time frames and someone I trust is there. And so, given the predictability of my mother’s behaviour, I tried to map out a way for me and my children to have more of a relationship with her, albeit in an edited way. Telecommunications and overnight stays remained unfeasible – but day-trips and meet-ups seemed manageable.
When I’ve spoken to people about our estrangement, many have asked if I’d feel bad if my mother fell sick, or if something happened to her while we weren’t speaking. And if I’m honest, no – I wouldn’t have had any regrets about our estrangement if something had happened. What has brought me back to my mother isn’t anything overly sentimental, because I’ve come to realise that I cannot form an emotional bond with her – and not realising that is what has caused so much pain in the past. I’ve tried, and failed, countless times to emotionally connect with my mother, only to find myself exposed and vulnerable. And perhaps knowing this, and taking it off the table when it comes to our relationship, is what now makes one possible.
Now that I’ve seen her, I’m glad to have done it. It was calm and without drama – we took my children to the park, and they had a wonderful time. It wasn’t particularly natural, or normal – at least in the way that I usually experience relationships. I was very restrained and only kept conversation to safe topics, while remaining detached and slightly numb to the experience. And although it was slightly weird, I could see the benefits of it when it came to my children. Since my husband’s parents are unfortunately no longer alive, they don’t have any other grandmother, and I think that for them, it’s good to have these memories and their own experience of her. From what I hear, my mum returned from her outing filled with excitement, relaying stories from the day to others, along with the strange and funny things my children had said. And I know that it means a lot to her to have more access to her grandchildren.
While previously I’d sent my husband to take my children to see her, it was clear that it was better for them if I was there as well – and that it was really only a matter of time until my eldest, now four, would start asking questions if I was always absent on these trips.
It’s ultimately a relief to know that the ice has been broken and that in the future, at whatever weddings, reunions, or funerals we have to attend together, that we can be in the same room without awkwardness or fuss. But I also know that I needed that break to recalibrate and reassess our relationship in order for us to be where we are now. To take some time to grieve what I’d once hoped our relationship to be, and accept the reality of what it is. It’s not ideal, but it’s functional – and that’s a step up from what it was before.