Unpacking the complexities of the mother wound

Unpacking the complexities of the mother wound (Photo: iStock)

In a world that often idealises family bonds, a quiet and often invisible pain exists: the mother wound.

This isn’t about the death of a loved one, but the profound emotional damage caused by a mother being absent, abusive, emotionally immature or unable to meet her child’s basic needs.

This is an unspoken reality for many adults whose mothers are still alive but not present in meaningful ways.

This experience is rarely acknowledged. Society often recoils at the idea of a child having no contact with their mother, deeming it taboo or even offensive. After all, she gave you life, nurtured you and made sacrifices. Sacred texts implore us to ‘honour thy father and thy mother’.

However, as with all scripture, these words must be read in context and should not be used to silence the deep pain of those who were never truly mothered.

Understanding the mother wound

The mother wound can manifest in various ways. Sometimes, a mother may be narcissistic, cold or overly critical. She may appear loving in public, but controlling behind closed doors.

In other cases, she is a victim herself, perpetuating a cycle of pain from which she never escaped. The injury isn’t always visible: some children were fed and clothed, but never truly seen.

Their achievements were met with envy, their emotions were dismissed and their personalities were subtly moulded to serve their mother’s fragile ego. Others endured far worse, such as mothers who turned a blind eye to abuse or who belittled, manipulated, compared or competed with their children, needing constant adoration even at their expense.

Many adults living with this trauma have tried tirelessly to mend the relationship. They set boundaries, wrote heartfelt letters, sought therapy and pleaded for accountability. But when the apologies never came and the harmful patterns continued, they were forced to make an unthinkable choice: to walk away. To stop calling. To go quiet. To protect the younger version of themselves that still lives within them.

The agony of estrangement

Choosing estrangement is never a light decision; it is agonising and often permanent. It’s not a trend, but a last resort. For those who live it, the narrative of “a mother’s unconditional love” becomes complicated. There’s a persistent longing for the mother they deserved, rather than the one they had. Guilt often surfaces, fuelled by societal whispers like, “But have you tried talking to her again?” or the painful reminder, “She won’t be here forever.”

What’s often overlooked is that many adult children are not estranged because they didn’t try. They are estranged because they did try for years and each attempt chipped away at their sanity. Walking away was an act of self-preservation.

Still, it’s a lonely path. You don’t fit the typical narrative of grief; you’re not mourning a mother who died, but a relationship that never existed in the way you desperately needed.

When others share stories of their mother being their “best friend,” you might feel both joy for them and a quiet ache of envy. You wonder what it would feel like to be safe in a mother’s presence, to be embraced, not examined; to be loved, not leveraged.

Pathways to healing

Despite the profound pain, healing is possible.

The process begins with permitting yourself to acknowledge what happened, to grieve the loss of what could have been and to let go of the need to justify why distance was necessary.

The next step is re-parenting: learning to offer yourself the compassion, protection and voice that your mother may never have provided. Sometimes, healing means finding maternal figures in unexpected places, such as among friends or mentors, or even within your own heart.

For many, it means becoming the nurturing figure they never had, not just for their own children, but for their inner child and the world around them.

This story is not anti-mother. It is about giving a voice to the inner child of many adults who have been silenced. It acknowledges that, while motherhood is sacred, not all mothers are safe. It’s also about recognising that choosing distance doesn’t make someone ungrateful or unloving, it makes them free to heal.

If this resonates with your experience, know that you are not alone. You are neither broken nor unloving. You are on a healing journey, and that in itself is worthy of honour.

Eve Waruingi is a counselling psychologist.