Why Going No-Contact With My Mom Was The Best Decision I Ever Made

She was never a mother to me.

Woman looking up relieved after going no contact with her mother Media Lens King | Canva

I haven’t seen my mom in almost 12 years now.

I still remember her hugging me for the last time. We were standing close to the front door; she gripped me tightly while my arms remained firmly by my side. Truthfully, the thought of her being this close to me made me feel deeply uncomfortable. I wanted to run away as fast as I could and never go back.

And that’s exactly what I did.

Some people would say to me, “But she’s your mom!” after I told them about my no-contact decision. But what makes a mom a mom? Can you call yourself a mom because you birthed them? Is that all it takes?


As a mom myself, I see it differently. Growing a baby and birthing them is just one small part of motherhood. A tiny, little piece. That’s not what makes you a mom. What makes you a mom is being selfless. It’s about admitting that you can’t be perfect but doing your best to care for all of their needs anyway. It’s being the best possible version of yourself that you can be so that your child sees you as their protector and role model — the person they can always turn to.

Was my mother that person for me? No, not even close.


What does motherhood mean to you?It is sacrifice, it is all encompassing, sometimes relentless, it pushes and pulls you in ways you never thought possible, it can break you, it can rebuild you, and it can fill you with the sort of love that nothing compares to. What a privilege it is to be called mum.~ FOREVER LOVE ~ our limited edition Mother’s Day collection is available now.

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I don’t remember when it began. Perhaps it started from the moment I was born, but of course, I can’t remember too far back. I just remember the years that followed.


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The first thing I could tell you about my mom is that she wasn’t selfless. Did she take care of me to an extent? Yes. She made sure I didn’t go hungry and I had clothes on my back. She made sure I had a roof over my head. She made sure I went to school. But aside from my basic needs being met, she let everything else slide.

She bought herself expensive foods and gave me cheaper brands. She hid her chocolate under the stairs so that I wouldn’t have any of it. There were many evenings when I had to cook my own dinners, which usually consisted of a packet of mashed potato or some packets of noodles. I felt frustrated, but what could I do? This was just the way it was.

If that was the only problem I had with my mom, then maybe I could forgive her. But it got worse, so much worse.


The problem was our relationship was doomed from the beginning because she didn’t like women. It always felt like she was jealous of me, so her only way to make herself feel better was to put me down. She would make comments and digs about my body hair and stretch marks. I remember her saying, “Only pregnant women get stretch marks,” which made me feel abnormal. I started thinking: Well, am I just really fat? What’s wrong with me? Of course, I know now that it’s completely normal, but I didn’t feel like that at the time.

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Some of the worst comments she made were to her friends. I would sit there, quietly, while she told them that she would happily swap me for their child. “We just don’t get on; our personalities clash,” she would say. I would think to myself: Who’s to blame for that? I’m just a kid. A kid who tries so hard to be good and loved and respected. But all I got was shame.

And it didn’t just stop at emotional and verbal abuse. If she thought I was misbehaving or not doing exactly what I was meant to be doing, it could get physical.


I still remember how shocked I was when she slapped me across the face one day. I was hurt, angry, and scared. I wanted so badly to stand up for myself and fight back, but it was no use because she was so much stronger than I was. I was just a kid.

I’d run up to my room and start throwing things against the wall. Part of me was scared that I’d get punished for it but the other part of me just needed to release the anger that was building inside me. I hated her with a passion. I would say I hated her more than I’ve ever hated anyone. But mostly, I hated the way she had so much power over me.

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One time, we were at a wedding, and she wanted me to dance with her. I told her no, I didn’t want to dance. I’ve always been shy and quiet, so the thought of dancing in front of so many people made me uncomfortable. But she didn’t give me a choice. She grabbed my wrist tightly and growled in my ear. “Get. Up. Now." Of course, I obeyed. I didn’t want to, but I hated the thought of her making a scene. Or worse, being hit in public. I got through the dancing and the rest of the night, but from that moment, my resentment toward her grew/


Around this time, I finally got my chance to break free from her for good.

She met someone online — a total stranger — and she informed me that he was coming over to stay with us. I started panicking, as I knew there was no way that I could stay in a house with a man I didn’t know. My mom had reached a new low; she had completely disregarded my safety. I asked my nan and grandad if I could move in with them and they agreed immediately. So, off I went.

I didn’t plan to ever see my mom again, but when I said goodbye to her, I knew that I couldn’t let her back in my life. For years, she’s tried to make contact. She has sent me letters. They started apologetic but quickly turned to victim-blaming. She has sent me messages online, which I tried to ignore. Eventually, after being called names over and over again, I blocked her on everything — because I knew she would never change.

My mom is what she's always been: A narcissist.


She cares only for herself. And while she still believes that she didn’t do anything wrong and I’m the one who made all the wrong choices, I know differently.

I was a kid. She was the parent.


Since I've gone no-contact with my mom, I feel free. I don’t feel like I need to prove myself to anyone anymore. I don’t feel like I need to hide. And most importantly, I can live my life the way I want to. 

Being a child doesn’t have to hurt. 

Every year more than 3 million reports of child abuse are made in the United States. According to the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline, 28.3 percent of adults report being physically abused as a child, and 10.6 percent of adults report being emotionally abused as a child. Physical abuse of a child is when a parent or caregiver causes any non-accidental physical injury to a child, including striking, kicking, burning, biting, hair pulling, choking, throwing, shoving, whipping, or any other action that injures a child. Even if the caregiver didn’t mean to cause injury, when the child is injured it is abuse. 

When a parent or caregiver harms a child’s mental and social development or causes severe emotional harm, it is considered emotional abuse. While a single incident may be abuse, most often emotional abuse is a pattern of behavior that causes damage over time. There are many physical and behavioral signs of child abuse in both the child and the parent or caretaker. To learn more about these signs, visit the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline’s website. If you suspect a child you know is being abused physically or emotionally, contact the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline for more resources at 1-800-4-A-CHILD.


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Coralle Panrucker is a freelance writer with a passion for love, relationships, and mental health. Her work has been featured in Bolde, Her View From Home, Introvert, Dear, Your Tango, and many more.