Confronting the Mother Wound

June 18, 2025

Facing the grief, rage, and silence of being unloved by my mother — and learning to become the parent I never had.

I used to think the most painful thing in the world was being rejected by someone I loved. But over time, I’ve come to realise that being emotionally neglected by the person who gave birth to me left the deepest mark of all.

What’s even harder is that I didn’t see it for a long time. I blamed myself. Thought I was too sensitive. Too demanding. Too much. Or not enough.

That’s the thing with the mother wound — it’s invisible until it’s undeniable. It hides in how you chase unavailable people. In how you tolerate being dismissed. In how you try to earn love that should’ve been freely given.

What Changed

Confronting this wound didn’t happen in one moment. It was a slow reckoning.
A build-up of tiny realisations and massive emotional floods.

It was sitting in therapy, saying, “I don’t think she ever really saw me.”
It was waking up after nights of tears and still feeling like I was the problem.
It was learning about projection, enmeshment, manipulation — and seeing my life in those definitions.

And finally, it was setting the boundary. Saying:
“No more.”
Not because I hate her. But because I love me now.

What I’ve Learned

I wasn’t too much — I was just never held.
I wasn’t wrong to want love — I was just taught to expect pain instead.
I didn’t fail her — I survived her.

The mother wound doesn’t just leave you aching for what you never had — it leaves you unsure you’re even allowed to heal.

But you are.

I’ve been reparenting myself.
Learning to speak kindly to my inner child.
Creating a home that feels safe.
And showing up for my son in ways I never experienced myself.

If You’re There Too

If you’ve ever felt broken, unseen, or unworthy because of how your mother treated you — you are not alone.

It is not your fault.
You’re not too needy.
You’re not too late.

You’re just someone who deserved love and didn’t get it.
And that grief is real. But so is your capacity to heal.

I hope this space can hold you the way I needed to be held.
Not perfectly. But honestly.

You’re not becoming your mother.
You’re becoming free.