If estrangement includes both a lack of closeness and a lack of contact, then many parents don’t even notice the emotional withdrawal. Children learn early to show the family what they want, not who they truly are. So when the child finally walks away: “It came out of nowhere!” says the parent. But the estrangement didn’t start that day. It started years earlier, in the silences, in the performances, and in the emotional disconnection.

Labels can feel comforting: liberal, conservative, believer, atheist. If I know which category you’re in—and which one I’m in—I can tell myself I know where we stand. But labels flatten people. They turn complex human beings into ideas. And when you’re fighting ideas instead of humans, hurting each other becomes easier. Outrage can even feel… energizing. A substitute for connection. A way to feel alive when we’re anxious or disconnected.

For some of us, our feelings became liabilities, and needs were turned into ammunition. Children in these families learn that vulnerability is a weapon — not theirs, but their parents’. When they show emotion, it’s used against them. When they cry for help, it becomes a map of where to strike next time. So they hide. They go quiet. They bury emotions deep underground, because every time they surface, they get attacked.

I believe we can grieve someone twice — or more. But each layer reveals a new truth. Grieving doesn’t mean we were wrong to walk away. It means we were brave enough to see clearly, even when the truth hurt like hell. And if relief comes when they’re gone, that doesn’t make you cold-hearted. It means your body finally believes it’s safe.

Mortality has a way of cutting through the noise. It puts everything into perspective. It strips life down to the simplest things. When we really sit with it, most of us want just a few things: love, connection, and at the end of life, some kind of closure. So when we hear words like illness, terminal, or time is short, our hearts often leap ahead of our heads. Maybe now they’ll soften. Maybe now they’ll see me. Maybe now we’ll finally meet on equal ground.

Estrangement isn’t neat. It’s raw, layered, and often unresolved. If you’re estranged—on either side—please don’t go through this in isolation. Find support that doesn’t just fuel anger, but helps you heal. Therapy, community, and connection matter. Estrangement is more common than most people realize. Mistakes don’t have to define you forever. And healing, whether together or apart, requires vulnerability, honesty, and courage.

Many people cling to the belief that “family is always loving and supportive.” Speaking up risks shattering this illusion. They may fear “rocking the boat” and experiencing backlash themselves. For them, preserving harmony feels safer than facing ugly truths.

Healing, for me, isn’t about erasing pain or rewriting history. It’s about carrying it with kindness. I lost contact with my entire nuclear family. It wasn’t gradual, it wasn’t mutual, and it wasn’t over something small. Just because time has passed doesn’t mean it’s all tidied up. Grief doesn’t have an expiry date.

Many grandparents are wise, playful, and loving. But sometimes, the dynamic can go very wrong, especially when the relationship between parent and grandparent is already breaking down. In these cases, grandparents may bypass their adult children entirely and focus solely on the grandchildren. This makes grandkids the new battleground, and can create new tension and resentment with the parents.

Five years in, I can honestly say: estrangement didn’t just make me “okay.” It made me better than I could have imagined. It cracked my world open. Without the constant twisting and confusion, I can think clearly. I can breathe. I can trust myself.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD) is a diagnosis listed in the DSM. But when most people say narcissist, they’re not diagnosing—they’re describing a pattern of harm. We use descriptive labels all the time without formal diagnoses.

We tell ourselves, “They must not realize. Otherwise they wouldn’t…” But the horrible truth is- they do know. Because if they can behave well sometimes… it means it’s a choice.

What truly shook Dr. Peck — and what felt so validating to me — was how these parents presented. They weren’t physically violent. They weren’t withholding food or shelter. In fact, they often looked like model citizens: well-dressed, respected, church-going, professionally successful. And yet behind the mask, they were emotionally barren. They refused to see their children’s pain. They denied responsibility at every turn. They gaslit, manipulated, and rewrote reality mid-s

I was constantly told I was selfish. Mean. Hurtful. That my behavior was proof I didn’t love them—and therefore, I didn’t deserve love in return. No matter what I did, I couldn’t win. The more I tried to earn their love, the more I reinforced the belief that it was mine to earn. It’s a trap many of us fall into: thinking that if we love hard enough, we’ll finally get the kind of love we’ve always longed for.

What happens next is almost always the same: the family acts stunned.“What happened?” “Where did this come from?” But for us, it didn’t come out of nowhere. We’ve been explaining ourselves for years. They just weren’t listening. And now, suddenly, because we’ve shut the door… they’re banging on it in panic. Sometimes that response—of confusion, anger, denial—is worse than the original hurt. Because it proves they still haven’t heard a word.

Relationships should be built on connection—not coercion. If threats, intimidation, or guilt are stopping you from walking away, that’s not love. That’s control. Fear of leaving is one of the biggest warning signs that a relationship isn’t just strained—it’s unsafe.

When you try to pull away, the guilt can be overwhelming. Grey rocking might look like setting a boundary. But inside it can feel like betrayal.

Let me be blunt: expecting people who’ve survived decades of family abuse to suddenly, clearly, and calmly articulate their needs to the very people who caused that abuse? That’s fantasy. It’s not that we don’t want to communicate. It’s that we’ve been taught not to. Conditioned not to. Punished when we did.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Chessie. She had an older sister, Goldie, and they lived with their mum and dad in a...

When you try to create distance or step away from a controlling family, the reaction can be extreme. Suddenly, you’re labeled ungrateful, disrespectful, or even a "bad" family member. The fear of rejection and the risk of being shunned makes it even harder to break free from their control.