A Letter to the Quiet Space Between Us

There is no greater ache in my heart than the space between me and my daughters.

To the outside world, we look like a fractured story. And yes there’s pain. There’s distance. There are words said (and unsaid) that still echo. But behind the fractured story is a mother who has never stopped loving her children, not for one second. And that mother is me.

This isn’t a story of disownment or abandonment. It’s a story of boundaries. Of truth. Of trying to mother through a storm that didn’t start with me—and refusing to pass it down one more generation.

My daughters have grown up in a family system with deep roots of control, judgment, and silence. And like many daughters, they’ve had to navigate loyalty conflicts, unclear alliances, and a narrative that sometimes places me as the problem because I dared to break the pattern.

I’ve heard things said about me that are not true. I’ve been gossiped about, misunderstood, and left out of moments I longed to be a part of—not because I didn’t care, but because the space wasn’t safe for me to enter. And still, I chose peace. Still, I tried to protect them from the fallout, from adult truths they weren’t ready to hold. Still, I loved them.

One of the most painful experiences a mother can have is knowing her children only know a sliver of the story—and that the sliver is shaped by voices louder or more convenient than her own.

To Chloe and Emma: if you ever find this post one day, I want you to know that I always loved you. Even when I was silent. Even when I didn’t show up how you expected. Even when the space between us stretched wider than words.

I chose my peace not to punish you—but to survive.

One day, if you’re ready for the fuller story, I will be here. Not to defend, not to beg, not to convince—but to offer clarity, love, and the kind of honest relationship that heals, not hurts.

I believe in cycles being broken. I believe in healing that doesn’t require pretending. And I believe in love that tells the truth, even when it costs everything.

With a heart still open,
Mom