Loss is a regular occurrence for most of us. We lose things – keys, earrings, phones, Air pods. Our favorite sports teams lose games. And most painfully, we lose people.
When someone close to us dies, we enter into a natural, well documented, and interminable grieving process. And yet, death is only one way by which people leave us. Sometimes people we love simply walk away from the relationship. “Ghosting” is the contemporary word to describe relational cutoffs, or estrangement. So, while we no longer see or speak to someone we love, they are very much alive. But perhaps we are dead to them.
Those of us left in the wake of estrangement by a loved one feel the loss, as painfully as we would a death. We grieve what was but is no more. And yet, while we grieve what is missing, we also hold out hope that, unlike in death, our fractured relationship has the potential to be healed and resurrected – or at least restructured.
Ambiguous loss is the term Pauline Boss, Ph.D. uses to describe relational ruptures that result in no-contact cutoffs. These losses are ambiguous because the experience is “unclear, inexact, confusing, and open to interpretation.” Boss, a pioneer in the study of family stress, says we experience ambiguous loss in myriad scenarios in which there is a significant change or disruption to what had been the status quo. One of the ways by which we experience this disconnection is parent-child estrangement.
An abrupt and often unexplained cutoff is the easy way out. It is a unilateral decision that gives one person devastating power over another. It’s much scarier to have an emotionally vulnerable, thoughtful, two-way conversation. Thus, many people avoid addressing the raw emotion swirling inside them at all costs. Their avoidance can be interpreted as rejection and abandonment of not only someone they love – but also of their own moral constitution.
It’s estimated that more than a quarter of families are affected by estrangement. Yes, misery loves company, and it’s comforting for people destabilized by this heartache to know they’re not alone. But the truth is that most people suffer in silence. They feel suffocating shame because their family or romantic relationship is not Instagram perfect. Their emotional wounds are raw and palpable, so they don’t talk about their loss.
And yet, the cutoff isn’t always about the one who has been excised from the picture. The old breakup line, “it’s not about you, it’s about me” might be precisely what is happening.
As early as 1921, psychiatric pioneer Carl Jung began explaining the process of individuation, a time in which an adult child separates from parents and makes his/her own way toward independence in the world. This easement and its timing are unique to each individual and family. However, what is taking place now seems to be a relatively new phenomenon of individuation on steroids. It didn’t used to be this way – this powerful, extreme, and hurtful. Family cutoffs have become devastating for those affected and epidemic in their spread and scope.
Sometimes a parent is the one holding the scissors. Their reasons range from plausible (addiction, abusiveness) to self-serving (narcissism, third party demands, or, sadly, a child’s sexual identity). People usually feel justified in their action and frame the cutoff as prioritizing themselves, which can be healthy and is sometimes necessary. But when taken to the extreme, the move can be vengeful, selfish, and dangerous.
And yet, there are licensed psychotherapists that have developed large social media followings and bank accounts by advising young adults to cut ties with parents for past or present offenses (real or perceived). Maybe these counselors are genuinely convinced they are helping people break free from dysfunctional, unhealthy, or unsatisfying relationships. However, our ethical canons clearly state that we are not to impose our own “values, attitudes, and beliefs” on our patients/clients.
Less clear, but quite universally accepted, is the notion that we don’t tell our patients/clients what to do. We help them, through thoughtful reflection and processing of their thoughts and feelings, come to their own conclusions. Yes, we probe, question, challenge, and even confront clients, but we establish a firm boundary when it comes to injecting ourselves into their decision-making process.
That said, there is an important distinction for cases of abuse or neglect, in which we are obligated to report and/or advocate for the client to protect themselves. And it is also understandable for someone to cut off a narcissistic family member that refuses to acknowledge their mistakes, missteps, and regrettable behaviors, who rejects any suggestion to reflect, apologize, vow to do better, and explore real, substantive change in themselves.
We are wise to also recognize the role of generational and cultural differences, which introduce the concept of duty. Some believe that children are obliged to respect, help, tolerate, and care for their parents in sickness and old age. To be perfectly blunt, the overarching existential question hanging in the balance is this: do we owe our parents something – anything – for raising us? And conversely, how long past graduation is it reasonable for parents to bankroll their children?
Bottom line, if both parties are game, most mental health professionals prefer to help the individuals involved find a way to understand each other and work through their challenges. Because… well, to be blunt, shit happens, and by that, I mean the unambiguous kind of loss we fear most.
When a death does occur during estrangement, the guilt experienced by a survivor who tapped out of the relationship can be debilitating. Yes, the intensity and frequency of his grief will decrease over time, but the guilt, sadness, and loneliness he feels will remain. There are no do-overs in death. What survives is an unmade bed littered with open boxes waiting to be sorted.
So, before we dig in our heels, stick to our guns, or prove a point, we would be well served to zoom out, consider context, insert compassion, and think long and hard about the big picture. What are the consequences of my actions, both now and in the future for everyone involved? Do the circumstances warrant the action I’m taking? Do I want to define the overarching depth and breadth of our relationship this harshly? In the end, will I be firmly convinced that the cutoff was worth it?
If you don’t like the answers you come up with, it might make sense to take a deep breath, open yourself up fully, explore a fresh approach, and try again. And if all attempts fail, take solace in the spiritual view that even if a relationship is not active, it still exists. Family members will always be tethered by a bond that transcends estrangement and endures for eternity.