Daughter of an Emotionally Absent Mother: Stop Trying to

Quench Your Thirst From a Broken Drinking Fountain

What if you had a drinking fountain in your yard that was broken? At first, you'd keep going to it, trying to quench your thirst. But after a while, you'd remember it was broken and stop. If you forgot it wasn't working and went for a sip, you'd feel pretty darn stupid and may kick yourself.

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When you have an emotionally absent mother, it's a lot like having a broken drinking fountain. As a kid, you turned to mom for love, empathy, and connection but got nothing. If you were smart and resourceful, you found what you needed in other people: dad, grandma, a neighbor, a teacher, or a friend. But, if you were like many of us, you fell into a self-destructive pattern of going back to mom again and again, expecting to create an emotional bond but getting rejected each time.

When I look back at my five decades on this planet, I realize what a slow learner I was when coming to terms with my mother's emotional unavailability. Fortunately, I've forgiven myself for not catching on sooner and moved forward. The mother archetype – nurturing, caring, and unselfish - is universal and compelling. It's difficult to wrap our heads around the notion that our mom is less than that and, sometimes, the very opposite.

I finally realized what my mother was all about when I had a child of my own – a son with autism. Having a grandchild with special needs brought out the worst in my mom. Not only was she critical and uncaring, she was angry and jealous. She lashed out at me because I was devoting too much time and energy to his treatment, taking him to speech and occupational therapy three times a week. She thought it was a waste of time and had no compassion for my situation whatsoever.

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This period in my life gave me a chance to stand back and look at her objectively. What I saw was a woman who was small, petty, and unfeeling. She was judgmental of me as a parent, unwilling to open her mind and learn about autism. She was unable to open her heart to the pain I was feeling and bond with me mother-to-mother.

The older I get, the more I think everything in life happens for a reason (or, perhaps, we're simply better equipped at making sense of things). My son's autism helped me see my mother for who she was. It gave me relief from that constant desire to build a connection with her. The truth was she didn't want to form a bond with me. That realization stung, but it also gave me freedom from the struggle.

I no longer go to that broken drinking fountain and curse it for not working. That would be dumb and a waste of time. I've readjusted my expectations and turn to other people and things in life that make me feel connected, loved, and supported. Most importantly, I've become my own mother – loving, supportive, and nurturing. I no longer hate myself. I no longer engage in self-destructive behaviors. I take good care of myself each and every day and that's something new and beautiful in my life.

The Emotionally Absent Mother and Letters of Support

Like many daughters of emotionally absent mothers, I long to travel back in time to when I was a little kid and get the mothering I need. Then the big emptiness I feel would get filled up and I could get on with my life. But since that's impossible, I looked for someone in the here-and-now to love and nurture me in a maternal way. If I had an unlimited budget, I would have chosen to attend counseling with a warm and compassionate therapist, who would act like a mother figure and guide me along my journey. But, without the needed funds, I decided to turn to a less expensive resource – me! 

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One of the best things I did was to start a new morning ritual of writing a letter to myself. I wrote like my ideal mother, not my idealized version of my real mother. Mona (that's what I named her) would say all the loving and supportive things I wanted and needed to hear. She gave me the strength and inspiration to take on the day.

I soon looked forward to writing these letters in the morning, jumping out of bed to get started. It then evolved into me writing other ones throughout the day because it was so helpful, giving me clarity and keeping me on track. It was especially useful when my head filled with negative thoughts, making me depressed and blocking me from achieving my goals. Mona always had the right words to make me feel empowered.

I even took the letter writing one step further by traveling back in time to crucial events when my real mother was particularly cold, angry, and hurtful. I needed Mona to walk me through those situations, giving me emotional support and showing me that I didn't deserve that treatment. She made me feel so much better and I gradually began to heal from those soul-crushing experiences. I realized that I had been like a house with no foundation – weak and ready to fall at any moment. By traveling back in time, I was finally building a solid foundation and getting stronger.

One letter Mona wrote to me dealt with the agonizing decision I had to make about re-homing my dog when he had bitten my 1-year-old son. I was heartbroken because this dog had been a huge part of my life for many years – long before I became a wife and mother. Instead of giving me a hug and words of support, my mom screamed at me in rage, “Get rid of that damn dog!” When I needed her most, she reacted with anger and it left me feeling alone and confused.

This is what Mona wrote to me about this event that happened many years earlier. She finally let me put it to rest and find peace:

Dearest Daughter,

I'm so sorry you must give up your wonderful dog, who has meant so much to you. You and he have been a terrific team and he clearly loves you very much. I know you'll find him a wonderful home and he'll always have a special place in your heart.

You're already experiencing the sacrifices a mother makes for her child. That mother bear instinct rises up in us and we protect our kids no matter what. Max is one lucky boy.

I love you, dear daughter. Know that I'm always here to listen.

Love,

Mom

This book brings great news for all of us who were under-mothered. It eases our minds, letting us know that our histories don't need to stop us from becoming wonderful moms. We just need to become more mindful of what we're doing and not let the painful past of our childhoods creep into our parenting. Very inspiring!