🛣️ Estrangement: The Two-Way Street Where Someone Always Thinks They Have the Right of Way

Crystal McDaniel
24 minutes ago
3 min read

Estrangement...My Car is moving forward into an unknown area.

🚗 When You’re the Mom in the Passenger Seat of Estrangement

I never imagined I’d be that mom.

The one who doesn’t get the call on her daughter’s birthday.The one who watches holidays come and go with an ache that no candle or casserole can fix.The one who smiles politely when others share family updates, silently holding back tears.

I’m estranged from one of our adult daughters. And let me tell you, it’s the kind of heartbreak that shows up quietly and stays loudly.

People often say, “Just look back on the good times.” But I can’t.I don’t look at photos of the happier times—because they’re not happy anymore.They’re reminders of what’s been lost. And the effect they have on me isn’t comforting—it’s paralyzing. They keep me from moving forward.What once brought joy now reopens the wound, and I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes protecting your heart means not looking back.

Estrangement, I’ve learned, is a two-way street. But that doesn’t mean both people are driving with the same intention.

One may be cruising in “self-care mode,”while the other suddenly realizes:

💭 “I don’t recognize any of the scenery anymore.”

I’m not wondering if it’s too late to turn back—because I wouldn’t even know which way to go.I’ve somehow ended up in a strange new place, and I don’t know which direction is north.

💭 Her Car: “I Need Time to Heal”

Our daughter told us she needed space. That she was focusing on herself and needed time to heal.

And as her mother—the one who gave her life, sang lullabies, and packed school lunches for what felt like two decades straight—I wanted to honor that. I still do.

I respect healing.I respect boundaries.I even respect distance when it’s handled with grace.

But…

⏳ My Car: “Time Is a Resource I Can’t Afford to Waste”

I’m healing too.I’m doing the work, facing the pain, sitting with my grief, and letting go of the illusion that love alone always keeps people close.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand in this painful process:Time is not on an infinite loop.

As much as I wish we could freeze-frame certain moments or rewind to simpler ones, I know this life moves forward—with or without repair.

And while she’s choosing distance as her form of healing, I’ve had to choose boundaries of my own—the kind that protect my peace and honor the mother I still am, even when I’m not actively mothering her.

🚧 We Both Think We’re Doing What’s Right

That’s the tangled web of estrangement:Everyone thinks they’re the one being reasonable.

She believes she’s taking the high road by stepping away.I believe I’m walking in wisdom by not chasing someone who’s already decided to leave.

Neither of us is the villain in our own story.But healing, I’ve learned, doesn’t mean silence.And space, without communication, feels a lot more like punishment than progress.

🛞 I’m Still Moving—Even If She’s Not in the Car

I miss her. Of course I do.There are days I’d give anything just to hear her voice or share a cup of coffee and talk about life, dogs, or shoes—whatever. Anything but this silence.

But I can’t stay parked at the “maybe someday” sign forever.

I’ve got a life to live, a heart to mend, and other people who still need me fully present—my husband, my son, our other daughter, and yes, even my dogs.

So I drive on.

Sometimes through tears.Sometimes with hope.Always with love in the rearview mirror—and just enough grace to keep going.