I misheard my mum’s simple request and cut her out my life

I remember boarding the plane for Los Angeles from New York thinking I was probably leaving my hometown, and high-achieving mom, forever.

My mom and I could be the best of friends and the worst of enemies, but we just couldn’t stop fighting. About anything and everything, all the time, and it was making us both miserable. 

By now, everything I owned was either gone, sold, or in storage. I had once been a married woman, a filmmaker, the daughter of a nine-time New York Times bestselling author. I’d had a trust fund, and more stuff than I knew what to do with.

But when I boarded that plane back in 2015, aged 36, I had no husband, no stuff – and I was finally estranged from that famous mother of mine. 

A terrible fight had torn us apart a year earlier, and we hadn’t spoken since. She had no idea how I was doing, or that I was moving 3,000 miles away that day – and I didn’t care.

All I wanted was to find myself, find peace, and make it on my own far away from her.

This wasn’t our first separation. I’d always been an adventurer and had boarded many planes in my life, often with a devastatingly broken heart. At 15, after my childhood sweetheart was killed in an accident and his best friend subsequently killed himself, I went to a boarding school in Rome.

At 31, I returned to New York after a failed marriage in Los Angeles.

This time, though, I was more sure than ever that, with new scenery and a warmer climate, I would be able to rebuild and recreate myself.

Still, another part of me was crushed. Breaking with my mom felt like losing a limb and having a broken heart at the same time. The limb may have been infected, but it was there, and it was familiar, and I did love her. At times, anyway.

As the plane took off, a chill went down my spine. I truly didn’t think I’d ever return to New York or see my mom again.

Years of misunderstandings, misguided intentions, and a total breakdown in healthy communication led us to this point.

The actual fight started over a request for me to leave my mom’s apartment where I was living so she could stay there for a week and not have to deal with me. It was her apartment after all.  

She claims she said: ‘Leave for the week,’ but I heard: ‘You have to get out of my apartment.’ The problem was we were already in such a bad way, this request was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I’d had major spinal surgery, a break-up, and a relapse the year before so my sobriety and emotional wellness weren’t up to snuff.

A lifetime of toxic communication patterns and deeply hurt feelings had left me feeling wounded and paranoid. We’d had fights that ended with me punching walls, my mom jumping out of cars into the street, or screaming until our lungs hurt â€“ and my sobriety was always at risk when I’d get that angry.

My mom had become the enemy and to survive, I believed I had to leave. 

Like many kids who grow up with successful parents, getting their approval was important, and I often felt I didn’t get it. But life took a nasty turn for me at 13 when my beloved grandfather died, then losing my childhood sweetheart and friend two years later.

What had begun as experimentation with drugs and alcohol turned into a lifestyle as I became a club kid in high school and a drug addict in college. 

At this time, my mom’s writing career exploded. Her books were everywhere – her dreams coming true as my nightmare began.

While we were inseparable when I was little, now my mom was always busy. I felt shamed by having a wild lifestyle and not being the daughter I thought she wanted.

Angry at her, I pushed her away, hid what I was doing, and finally cemented our estrangement by escaping altogether in 2015.

On my own, I had to learn to take care of myself, earn a living and stop fighting with everyone around me. As a person in recovery with a lot of help and healing work, I was able to see my own part in our fighting.

I stopped expecting other people to do things for me, or fix the problems I created. With time, I found peace with who I am, with who my mom is, and with all the misunderstandings that drove us apart.

When my anger was gone, I wanted to end our estrangement and bring the love we had for each other back. How to reconcile after our bitter separation became my new goal.

We started with email. I emailed her, she emailed me back and we were light and polite. My direction was: Don’t talk about what happened and reconnect on things you both love.

I sent her pictures of my new dog and we talked about cooking and other safe subjects until we were more comfortable with each other again.

Luckily my mom had done some work on her own, too – and she wanted to reconnect. We learned to listen to each other and not bring up subjects that were painful to us both. We empowered each other to find joy in simple things again.

Then, as authors who had worked together to explore addiction recovery, we wrote about relationship recovery.  

Together, we launched a recovery website and wrote books to help other families. Our estrangement led to forgiveness, and a new book.

I’m excellent at outlines, organising information, and a messy first draft. She’s better at research and making the words beautiful. Each brought our own talent to the table. 

Today, 10 years later, my relationship with my mom is healthy because we treat each other with respect – even when we don’t agree, and when moments do get heated, we have tools for de-escalation that work.

We don’t scream at each other like we used to.

If you are estranged from a loved one you want in your life, before you take any steps, get some guidance and create a life you love. Find warmth and peace and don’t give up the hope that your loved ones will grow with you – just like my mom did.

If they can’t change, with healing and a healthy life, you’ll be fine no matter what. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk. 

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