🕊️ What Estrangement Feels Like: It’s Not Just "Empty Nest"

Empty bird's nest with a "Vacant" note, symbolizing an open house in nature.

I think people try to relate by comparing estrangement to the empty nest phase. And it’s kind—they’re genuinely trying to connect, to understand. But the comparison doesn’t quite hit the mark.

Estrangement doesn’t feel like an empty nest—it feels like a shattered one.

When your adult child walks away—not just physically, but emotionally, relationally, and sometimes spiritually—it’s not a phase. It’s not a normal transition. It’s a loss. A living loss.

It’s grieving someone who is still alive, but no longer reachable. In our case, our adult daughter specifically asked us not to contact her at all. That kind of boundary is incredibly hard to live with—especially knowing that sometimes she visits her dad, just 30 minutes across town, and we still receive nothing. No hello, no update, no visit—especially around the holidays when she stays for days, and we still get nothing. It’s the silence that screams at you during dinner, birthdays, holidays, and all the in-between moments. It’s wondering if they think of you. It’s hoping they’re okay. It’s questioning everything you did and everything you didn’t do.

There’s a unique pain in estrangement that isolates you.

I’ve mentioned before that I am also estranged from a part of my extended family. There’s a real, solid reason for this situation. I’m not going to go into it in this blog—it’s a story for another time. What I will say is that there was a lot of betrayal, and illegal behavior involved, things I had no control over, and there has been very little remorse or outreach. In stark contrast to my extended family estrangement—which is rooted in betrayal, disrespect, and harmful behavior—the estrangement with our adult daughter feels much more mysterious and sudden. I know she believes she needs to self-protect, and her choice comes from a place of self-preservation. But one day, the communication simply stopped. Abruptly, without a chance to respond or process, we were cut off. There was no confrontation, no conversation—just silence.

With my extended family, I know exactly why I stepped away. I wasn’t shown respect. I wasn’t heard. I felt devalued, degraded, and ultimately, unwanted. The last time I spoke with one of them on the phone, I asked if they could just listen. Instead, I was screamed at and told, 'Goodbye,' before being hung up on. That was the moment I released myself from the sense of obligation to keep trying. I will not put myself in that position again. I forgive them—not because they apologized or changed—but because I believe in forgiveness. God tells me to forgive. But that doesn’t mean I need to keep placing myself in front of that same pain. The world keeps turning, people share stories about family vacations and wedding plans, and you nod and smile, all while your chest feels hollow.

You feel like you’ve failed at the most sacred role: parent. It has made me question my value as a mother. I used to feel so confident in that role. Now, I don’t. I don’t know my place in the parenthood world anymore. And no matter how many people try to comfort you, unless they’ve lived it, they can’t fully understand it.

For me, estrangement from our adult daughter has been an emotional earthquake. Some days I can’t breathe from the weight of it. It’s always there—just below the surface.

I want people to know that this is not just about a child moving out. This is about a relationship that was once rich with memories and moments, now marred with silence, misunderstanding, and pain.

And here’s the truth: sometimes I feel like I deserved it. Like I must have been so awful that she had no other choice. Then other times, I know in my heart that we loved her deeply. That we tried our best.

It’s a roller coaster of guilt, anger, grief, empathy, and—still—love.

If you're in this space too, I want to validate your experience. You are not weak. You are not alone. This kind of grief doesn’t come with casseroles or sympathy cards, but it is real. And it is heavy.

I speak out to remind myself and others that estrangement is complex. It’s personal. It’s painful. But healing is still possible—even if reconciliation never comes.

We find peace in small places. In honesty. In support groups. In therapy. In faith. In the pets that greet us at the door. In the friends who sit with us in silence.

What you’re feeling is valid.This is not just an empty nest.This is estrangement.And it deserves to be acknowledged.

I also love to work with my students, and they help me to keep my mind in a good, positive, and encouraging place.

As a human being, I am flawed. I did not choose to make decisions to cause harm to my children. I am not perfect, and I have made mistakes. But I believe in the power of forgiveness—not only forgiving others but forgiving myself. Estrangement isn’t about blame; it’s about understanding, growth, and sometimes, survival.

What you’re feeling is valid.This is not just an empty nest.This is estrangement.And it deserves to be acknowledged.

With love and solidarity,

Crystal

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