Letting Go of Blame, Embracing Responsibility

There are days I wonder if maybe things weren’t that bad. If perhaps I shouldn’t “blame” my entire adult struggle on my childhood. Maybe it’s not all my parents’ fault. And in a way, that’s true.

Yes, the emotional landscape of my early years left deep scars. I was used, abandoned, misunderstood. But even if it was as bad as it felt, I’m not there anymore. I’m no longer a child. I’m not helpless. And that matters.

Adulthood brings its own reckoning—its own form of power. I now have the responsibility, and the privilege, to shape my life. To choose who stays in it. To say no to the roles I was once forced into. If someone consistently hurts me or drains me, it’s not my job to fix them or hold space for their refusal to change. It’s my job to protect myself, and to offer my son the kind of presence I never had.

My mother might say I’ve abandoned her. But the truth is: she abandoned me first—again and again. She still does, by choosing not to seek help or even hear me out with openness. I tried. I explained. I asked for something different. And in the end, she showed me, not with words, but with inaction, that I wasn’t worth the effort of growth.

That’s heartbreaking. But it’s also clarifying.

It’s not about punishing her for the past. It’s about protecting myself in the present. And protecting my son. Because I know what it’s like to be the child left holding someone else’s emotional weight. I won’t let him live that story.

I am not a victim anymore.

I am an adult. And that comes with grief—but also with immense freedom.

And the truth is: letting go of someone who won’t grow with you isn’t abandonment.

It’s courage.