I am both an estranged parent (EP) and an estranged adult child (EAC). I hope that being both lends a balance to my perspective, though I believe in the value of skepticism.
The Centers for Disease Control estimates that in the United States, more than one in seven children experience physical, sexual, emotional/mental abuse or neglect.
A widely-used measure of abuse and family system problems is the Adverse Childhood Experience Questionnaire. Elevated scores on this 10-question screener are considered to indicate higher likelihood of mental and physical health problems. My score is 7.
The short explanation for my own estrangement from my parent is that 30 years ago, vulnerable members of my family including my grandmother and children continued to be in specific danger. I’d been through decades of such traumatic chaos, and I’d had enough.
And that experience created a delineation in my heart and mind: We sever such connections in these circumstances. Frankly, in the moment, it was obvious enough that I did not hesitate.
The circumstances behind my own child’s departure bear no resemblance to the above. This is where due diligence demands that I look honestly at my situation:
In an environment that is well below any abuse threshold, is total estrangement ever justified? Is not liking me enough? Is displeasure at my parenting mistakes enough? We aren’t politically or spiritually different (to my knowledge at least), but would that be enough?
In instances of fundamental value differences, it would stand to reason that the relationship may be less close, sure. But to sever the relationship altogether feels like a nuclear option, when mere adjustment to the system could have prevented tremendous emotional distress on both sides. For almost 4 decades, I maintained connection to an abuser; I’ve lost connection with my own child before the end of the second decade.
So maybe the skeptic I need to be in this circumstance can’t objectively enter the conversation. Maybe there is justification for my child going no-contact that I can’t see, particularly in light of the years of abuse and neglect my sibling and I survived.
The refrain goes through my mind as the years go by: It didn’t have to be this way. I just don’t know if that’s my inner skeptic or the voice inside my aching heart.
