Patience and Humility

This month, I’m meeting with my mom for the first time in over six years. Rather than writing my usual retrospective, this post serves as preparation.

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It’s February 2019, and I’m riding my bike around Doctor’s Lake near Jacksonville, Florida. Life had been increasingly difficult and it finally hits me: my emotional demands are exceeding my capacity. I’m anxious about our upcoming move and inability to find a house. My sister and I have been unraveling decades of family lies. I had no idea that I was three months from a mental breakdown, but knew something had to give. As I pedal along, I suddenly realize the podcast in my ears is discussing parental estrangement. I stop, am nearly overcome with a sense of peace, and make my decision.

My mom was refusing to listen to our concerns. She wouldn’t meet our need for more truth and less gossip. So I chose estrangement through an ultimatum: get professional help before we talk again. It remains the last time we spoke and since then, I’ve relied on that boundary as an unsuccessful forcing function. I wanted her to prioritize relationships with her children and grandchildren over her fear of the truth. Nothing since then has changed—only more pain inflicted and more joys unshared.

In late 2023, I considered how to reconnect with my mom. My decision journal showed I was nearing the five-year mark of our estrangement. Three separate therapists had pointed out that completely cutting her from my life was not a healthy boundary. That New Year’s, inspired by a meaningful quote, I wrote her a letter.

The day a child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.
-Alden Nowlan

I neither expected nor experienced a miracle.

While some of our letters since then explored the past, most stayed focused on the present. A few exchanges reached emotional depth, but the majority remained superficial. Once or twice, we approached a breakthrough on a long-standing issue. After I’d lean into it in my letter, she would change the topic in hers. I had hoped for a non-confrontational process to unpack the past. Instead, it became the avoidance of difficult truths. Our letter writing ultimately deteriorated into her defensive deflections of my uncomfortable questions.

Meanwhile, boxes of childhood memories, career mementos, and marriage keepsakes were returned to me—photos, memorabilia, and clothing. Our family members I had reconnected with became targets of her social media attacks. My sister faced workplace discipline because of our mom. Eventually, she cut ties as well.

As my therapists had predicted, the situation remained deeply unhealthy.

True to form, I sought to better understand the underlying dynamics. Bret McKay provided insights on healing from estrangement, while Mel Robbins offered strategies for dealing with emotionally immature parents. I learned how to more effectively handle narcissistic behaviors in both personal and professional contexts rather than avoiding them. I knew my sister needs to be there for any intervention to show a unified front. We would also benefit from a professional mediator—either a therapist or clergy member.

What finally led me to reconnect with my mom now?

To be honest, I’m not sure yet. Over the past six years, my wife and I have experienced several major life events. Some were joyful, others were painful. She should have been part of them. She’s missed watching our four kids grow, achieve in/out of school, leave for college, and get engaged. Over the decades, I’ve seen her friends, siblings, son, and now daughter distance themselves. What is next?

I perceive her mental health declining while my capacity to help increasing. Perhaps the plot of these trend lines have intersected.

What do I hope to achieve?

While I’m maintaining low expectations, I do have specific goals:

1. My short-term goal is to simply talk again, with the hope this process leads to forgiveness—a choice I fully control.
2. My medium-term goal is for each party to take ownership of their contribution to our dynamic. This is a choice I only partly control.
3. My long-term goal is to form a new relationship with healthier dynamics than before—a choice I do not control.

I asked AI for advice when preparing for this post. The words “patience” and “humility” were in two of the bullet points. These could have been pulled from my context knowledge. Or, they could be divine guidance. Regardless, they have resonated with me for some time. They are both the title of this blog and a tattoo I’ve been slowly designing. This reconciliation journey will undoubtedly test both and I’m sure all three of us will stumble along the way.