BY AARDE WRITES for WEEKLY VOLCANO | 7/10/2026
Hey Aarde,
My children have turned on me. I am 78, and two out of three of my kids are “gray rocking” me, a term I learned in an estranged parents Facebook group. It’s amazing how many of us parents gave our lives to our kids, only to be completely cut out when it’s time to return the favor! I’m not getting any younger, and I’m appalled that I don’t get to see my grandchildren or be a part of any holidays. They’ve blocked me on all social media after an argument, and I hate to say it, but as soon as my daughter started seeing a therapist, she turned this way. Why does it seem like all the kids hate their parents now? What did we do besides give them life, pay their way, and give up our own lives for them?!
Signed,
Disappointed Mom
Hey Disappointed Mom,
Wow, there’s a lot to unpack here. I want to compliment you for caring enough to understand the “why” of your situation. It takes some self-awareness to analyze complex relationships and a hopeful stance to find acceptable answers. I am sorry that you are going through the confusion of estrangement, and, as with any grief, it’s a layered progression. While this may feel like an attack on you, and I understand why it would, this response is meant for reconciliation, not blame.
Estrangement rarely comes from a single argument, so let’s assume there is more going on in your children’s memory banks that has added up to a feeling of frustration. It is fair to assume that as children grow into adulthood, they often revisit experiences they didn’t fully understand at the time. With greater maturity and a broader collection of life experiences, they begin connecting the dots and making sense of those moments in a new way. This new understanding might not align with your perspective, but it is a process, and if you remember, growing up isn’t linear and does not come without difficulties.
The job of a parent is never done, and this is a pivotal moment to show your children that you love them enough to be uncomfortable while learning, which will work in your favor in the long run. Instead of asking, “Why are they doing this?” try rephrasing it as, “What was their experience?” This helps to align a relationship in which each party holds equal accountability for growth and understanding. And maybe more importantly, ask yourself, “What is missing from the story?”
I’d like you to think of a time when your children might have attempted to understand something from their childhood. Maybe they asked about your upbringing or how your parents handled sticky situations. Maybe they asked you about your recollection of a specific time when they might have felt scared, sad, or alone. Every time you answered, they were collecting data to add to their own recorded experience, and that accumulated data, along with your actions both in the past and present, has shaped the choices they make now.
When children review past events, they recognize patterns, and those patterns provide the scaffolding for how they understand love, boundaries, expectations, and standards. It creates a mental and emotional map of parental behavior that can sometimes be difficult for parents to see on their own. Dismissal of their experience accumulates over decades, and repeated invalidation teaches children to stop sharing and to stop making bids for connection. This type of emotional neglect often leaves invisible wounds that are unseen to the parent.
We are all children of someone, carrying our own misunderstandings and navigating the conditions of love. Setting hard lines like, “I sacrificed everything for you,” can become a debt rather than a loving sentiment, burdening children with guilt and unworthiness. And boundaries can be used as punishment, skewing what is supposed to be protective and productive into something rigid and stern. Often, expectations can feel like conditions for acceptance and worthiness. And control is mistaken for care; providing food, shelter, and education is the baseline, not leverage. Love becomes conditional when it feels like repayment is due. Assuming you’re entitled to a place in your children’s and grandchildren’s lives without taking accountability for your contribution to the relationship overlooks the role you played in shaping its very foundation.
Traditional therapists do not invent memories; their job is to help organize existing ones and give language to already experienced dynamics. They notice generational patterns and try to help children recognize the unresolved shadows their parents cannot see. Most of the time, therapy involves analyzing the unhealed wounds of the parents: your wounds. The children step into a parental role here, often trying to shed light on the unresolved pain and patterns you carry through your daily life, and on how you’ve shown up for them as your children. And often, they feel a sense of defeat when they are met with dismissal or denial. Therapists uncover the reality that parents can unintentionally ask their children to carry their unmet needs. One of the hardest questions you can ask yourself is, “How did I contribute to this outcome?”
Children are not an insurance policy against aging, nor are they responsible for repaying their parents’ emotional investments. As you grow older and find yourself needing care, it can be frightening to realize the relationship is no longer on your terms. If it feels as though the love is now conditional, it’s worth considering whether that was the model your children inherited. We often teach others how to love us by the way we love them.
Even though your children are now adults, they are still your children, no matter their age, and they are hurting. They are most likely feeling checkmated and have resorted to estrangement as their last resort. They have used all the tools in their toolbox, have fallen into exasperation, and could use the unconditional love only a parent can give. Keep in mind: love is a living thing; it requires awareness, energy, and constant nurturing. To quote a famous book, “Love is patient, love is kind … it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongdoings … it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” And as a parent myself, I can understand how you might be feeling right now. You’ve done your best, you’re tired, and any failings on your part were certainly not intentional, but intent does not erase impact.
Being a parent isn’t a job you can quit; you will always be the role model for best behavior. You are the matriarch of your family, and it is your responsibility to continue teaching the lessons of love and accountability, no matter how tired you are. If this isn’t the job you signed up for, then you must face the consequences of losing the perks of that position.
Showing curiosity about repairing the relationship, along with an openness to an apology without defensiveness, carries more weight than any explanation. This type of strength and accountability is the beginning of reconciliation, and true reconciliation begins when understanding matters more than being right, and love makes room for another person’s reality.
