My daughter and I in 2011, when I first wrote this post. Scroll down to see my 2023 update.
In 2011, a few years into single-motherhood, my daughter (9 years old at the time) told me that she didn’t want me to be her mom anymore. This post was written late one night during one of the worst times of my life. Here’s the original post. Scroll down to see my update, written 12 years later.
Original Post 2011
My daughter informed me today that she wants a new mom. She thinks I'm mean. That I ruin things for her. That I make people leave her. That it's my fault she's hurting.
And I so don't want to hear this.
I want her to love me. I want her to think I'm amazing. Funny. Loving. I want to tell her my story. About me. About us. I want her to agree with my version. I want her to want to be my daughter.
Ironic. She wants a different mom. And I want a different daughter.
This is what we do to each other. We hold the other responsible for our own confusion. We blame the other for what we think has gone wrong. We point fingers at each other instead of at ourselves.
She thinks that if I changed - she'd feel better. I think if she changed - I'd feel better.
The truth is: She's allowed to not want me as a mom. She's allowed to think that her life would be better without me. She's allowed to think that I'm the cause of her suffering.
Millions of people think the same things about their mom. I used to be one of them. This thinking never gave me a different mom, though. It never made my mom better. It never made her do what I thought she should do. It never made her stop doing what I thought she shouldn't do. It just made me miserable.
I have a lot of compassion for the pain my girl is feeling. I know how awful it is to believe that story. And I know I won't be able to help her find relief from her own pain if I'm in a hurry to have her love me the way I want her to - for my own sake.
My job isn't to persuade her to believe that I'm a great mom. I can't convince her of that.
Nor should I. My job is to be her mom - whether she likes it or not. To allow her to be my daughter - as is. Without the extra mom-loving modifications that I'm asking for today.
My job is to relieve her of the impossible duty of making me feel good. And to teach her how to do the same.
To love her. And to keep loving her. No matter what.
Update: 2023
My guess is that you’ve landed on this page because your son or daughter told you that they want a new mom, a new dad, a different parent. Or maybe they told you that they hate you, or that they want to leave.
If so, I want to start by saying: Hello. I see you. And yes, this hurts.
Even twelve years after the fact, I palpably remember the heartbreak and pain. I remember how desperate I was to try to help her. I remember how hurt I was to be rejected by her. I remember how scared I was, thinking she’d always hate me.
Looking back though, I see this in such a different way. I see why she lashed out. I see why I was the one to hear these words.
This is why I wanted to write an update. I want to share this with you… think of it as a message from 12 years in the future.
She lashed out because she was angry. She was angry because she had no power. She didn’t choose the divorce. She wanted things to go back to the way they were. Her dad was unavailable and off living his own life. And she was stuck with me. Me. The mom who was there—day in, day out. Me. The mom who made her brush her teeth and comb her hair. Me. The one who wouldn’t let her stay up late. Me. The one working late at night and early in the morning to provide a home for her. Safety for her. Love for her.
And that’s exactly why she was angry… because I was actually there. I was parenting her. I was watching out for her. And, looking back, I can see that was doing a damned good job of it.
But she was little and she didn’t understand why her dad went away. She didn’t understand why she was stuck with me. She had a fantasy that if she could just get rid of me, he’d come back. She had a fantasy that if she could hate me enough, maybe he would love her again.
The thing I really want you to know is that she hated me because I was the one that was there. I was the safe one to hate. She could say those words to me and know, completely, that I would never leave. And she needed that. She needed a safe container to place all of her hate and rage and powerlessness.
I was that safe container.
So, I want to tell you first, that if you found this page that means you’re searching for ways to deal with this. THAT ALONE makes you an excellent parent. Most parents don’t take the time, they don’t search for answers, they aren’t the ones on Google trying to find ways to help their kids.
Yoga Retreat—Girls Weekend 2023
And next, I want to tell you that parenting is the hardest thing in the entire world. And the fact that any of us make it out alive… well that’s a miracle.
If you’re brave, let yourself be a safe container for your child’s pain. Let yourself be hated. Let yourself be strong for her or for him. Show them that you’re not leaving. That your love will never stop. That you are in it, with them, forever.
Twelve years later… my daughter and I? We are best friends. When I ask her about this period of our relationship, she apologizes—she knows it hurt. She says she was little and doing the best she could, and she was so mad and just couldn’t contain it, no matter how hard she tried. She also knows, deep in her bones, that I never left and never will. That I never stopped loving her. And that, regardless of the words she told me that night… she never stopped loving me.
It gets better. I promise.