The Burden That Never Gets Lighter

Imagine being told by your mother that all her suffering, her chronic pain, her physical and mental state—is your fault.

That from your very first year of life, she saw you as a parasite, a malicious little gnome set on draining her dry.

Imagine being accused, day after day, week after week, over and over again, of ingratitude, cruelty, selfishness.

That you have never done anything for her.

Never enough.

Never in the right way, at the right time, with the right intention.

That you are a bad daughter, a bad person, a bad psychologist, a bad mother.

Even if it were all true...

But it’s not.

I see a daughter who was utterly loyal to her mother. Who adapted completely, never wanting to cause problems, idolizing her mother.

Who always tried to give what she could, did her best to please her, yet always fell short.

A daughter who is praised to the heavens one moment and completely torn down the next.

A daughter who, for years, has been bombarded with blame, criticism, and unrealistic expectations.

And yet, she kept trying.

Until she couldn’t anymore.

Because there is a limit. Even for a daughter.

I am a mother myself. And I cannot imagine ever treating my child this way. No matter how much pain I might be in, no matter how heavy life may feel—

I would never burden him with guilt and responsibility that do not belong to him.

Every single day, I choose to do things differently. To let my son know that he is loved, exactly as he is.

That he does not have to earn love, that he does not have to adapt himself to be accepted.

I teach him that his feelings are valid, that he is allowed to have boundaries, that he always has the right to speak his truth.

That he is never responsible for my pain, my emotions, or my happiness.

Since I was eleven, I have been aware of the toxic patterns in my family. And all this time, I have known: this stops with me.

I decided then that I would be the cycle breaker. That I would not pass these patterns on.

My son will not grow up carrying the weight of my pain, my unprocessed emotions, or my unfulfilled needs.

That is my task, my responsibility.

I own my shit, and I clean it up.

And I know I will still make mistakes.

But I have promised myself that if my son ever comes to me one day and tells me that he suffered because of things I did (or didn’t do), I will listen. I will validate his feelings.

I will apologize.

Knowing that I did my best—and that I, too, am only human.

And yet... despite almost thirty years of accusations, manipulation, hatred, emotional blackmail, insults, and cruelty...

I choose to keep my mother in my life.

Not because I have to.

Not out of duty.

But because I still love her.

Because there's a healthy side to her that s there for me and my family and loves us.

Because I want to act according to my own values as long as I can bear it.

But I, too, have boundaries.

I block her messages regularly.

Not out of not out of resentment, not to teach her a lesson, but to protect myself.

To regain my strength.

It affects me less and less, but not not at all.

People who have been through this understand how deep it cuts.

How it seeps into everything you do.

How, even when you step back, you still wonder: Have I done enough?

While knowing full well that in the other person’s eyes, it will never be enough.

I know I am not the only one struggling with this.

Maybe you recognize this too.

Maybe you, too, feel torn between love and self-preservation, between loyalty and setting boundaries.

A significant number of my clients deal with this in some form.

Like me, they are often told:

“But it’s your father/mother...”

“Can’t you just...”

“How ungrateful you are...”

People who say things like this do not realize how much must happen before a child finally decides to limit or cut off contact with a toxic parent or family member.

As humans, as children, we are biologically wired to be loyal to our parents.

And often, that’s reinforced by upbringing and cultural conditioning:

"Family is everything; you must do everything for your family!"

Try breaking free from that.

No, a much better question would be:

What on earth must that parent (or family member) have done to leave their child with no other option but to cut ties?

Whatever your situation, whatever culture you come from, whatever family values you were raised with—

I want to share this with you:

🌿 You are allowed to choose yourself.

🌿 You are allowed to take distance.

🌿 You have the right to set boundaries.

🌿 You owe no one anything.

🌿 You are good as you are.

🌿 Your well-being matters.

And you are not alone. 💛

Love, Kinga.