What I Learned When My Daughter Needed Space from Me

This last couple of weeks, I found myself sitting with a truth I didn’t want to look at…

My daughter didn’t want to come home.

My baby.

My girl.

She didn’t want to be with me. She wanted to stay with her Dad.

Initially this sparked so much shame and guilt I had no idea how I would ever call myself a good mom again. Had I turned out like my own mother? If I let her stay there, was I abandoning her? My other two children still wanted to come home… but for some reason, she did not.

So I had to take a hard, honest look at my actions and my reactions to find the truth.

Emma’s behaviours — defiant in the way many teens are — left me triggered and overwhelmed. Messy rooms. Taking her brother’s jacket without permission. Spilling a purple smoothie into every crevice of the refrigerator. Little things, but each time… overwhelm turned into blame. Into me yelling. Into her shutting down.

Into a break in our connection.

How had I allowed this?

How was I, someone determined to be a better mother than my own, allowing my wounds and overwhelm to spill onto my child?

I sat with this for days. I cried like something inside me had died.

Begging her to come back wasn’t the answer.

Forcing her through legal action wasn’t the answer.

But then… what was?

I turned inward.

I looked at what I’d actually been showing her. I didn’t react this way to her siblings because they seemed to “care” or to “get it.” I had taken for granted that she had her own feelings, her own overwhelm, her own reactions to my trauma-driven states.

She didn’t want to be punished anymore for showing up the only way she could.

And honestly?

Who could blame her.

I’m telling you all this because the steps I took next are what helped me sort through the guilt and the shame. And if you’re a spoonie… if you’re often triggered… if you overreact because you’re pouring from an empty cup…

You’re not alone.

It happens.

We’re human.

But there is another way.

When I asked myself what that way would be, the guidance was simple:

Repair.

No forcing.

No begging.

No collapsing into self-pity.

Just compassion.

Empathy.

And choosing again.

Because that’s what we have in any given moment. The ability to choose again.

To do better once we know better.

I realized I couldn’t be a “bad mom.” I wasn’t one.

But I am an unhealed mom, and sometimes that shows up in ways I wish it didn’t.

What makes me a good mom and a normal mom, and not the one of neglect and ignorance I never wanted to become, is this:

I took ownership.

And I am taking corrective action.

I told her I see her, and I’m proud that she chose the environment that felt more nurturing.

I told her I love her unconditionally and will not punish her in this way again.

I told her I see her feelings and who she truly is and that she is perfect as she is.

I apologized for my behaviour and promised to work on healing the parts of me that reacted from a triggered place.

And I apologized to my other two children as well for speaking less than lovingly about their father and his partner.

This isn’t a self-beating.

This isn’t a shame spiral.

This is what the seeds of repair look like.

This is what the real, nitty-gritty work of forgiveness looks like.

I choose to heal for these kids and for myself.

Every day, I will return to the work.

Every day, I will soften.

Every day, I will become more nurturing and more loving in all my interactions.

I believe this is possible.

If any of this resonated, I’ll be sharing the practices I’m using along the way. Use whatever helps. Reach out with questions. You’re not in this journey alone.

Let’s choose again.

Let’s choose love.

Let’s choose accountability and respect.

Let’s choose correction.

Let’s choose forgiveness.

And tenderness ~

toward ourselves and others.

Let’s choose peace. 🕊️