Musings From the Narcissist Mom 25 Years Later

Birdie Pearl
2 min readFeb 2, 2022

One of the biggest skeletons from my closet holds tightly to the guilt that I have as a mother. Even now, when I think about all of the things I could have done better, I get physically ill. I was always too busy for my child. I was a helicopter mother, I wanted everything my way and no other way. I worked, and when I didn’t work, I partied. I completely deserve the karma, the hate, and the scorn. Cats in the cradle with the silver spoon.

Five years ago, was the last time I talked to my first-born child. She was mad at me over a fight we had. I read what would be her last text to me: "I do not want you in mine or the kids’ lives anymore. Do not contact us.”.

I have followed her wishes since that moment. I have not attempted to make contact in any way, shape, or form. Should I have fought? Should I fight? Both outcomes could just make everything worse.

When people ask me about her, it is like someone is punching me in the stomach. I freeze up automatically and lose my breath. Now that so much time has gone by, it is easier to say the truth:

“I don’t see her anymore.”.

It is the truest answer that I can give. Most people are only asking out of curiosity, anyway. Not true concern. They are completely oblivious to the fact that they just killed you a little. (I’m sure I’ve done the same thing to an unsuspecting mom and didn’t even know it.)

Estrangement has so many facets and sides. There isn’t always a right and wrong, a good and bad. No winners, only losers. Lost time. Lost moments. No holidays, Birthdays, no tiny,” Hi Grandma!” Coming from the front door.

If you have had to cut ties with someone you loved, you know how heart-wrenching it can be. You feel the pain to your core.

In my mind, there is a constant, daily back and forth dialogue

“Text her.”

“No, don’t. Leave her alone.”

“It’s her birthday, send flowers.”

“No, you’d ruin her day.”

I simply do not know if I should take action, or if I should respect her wishes and let her be. If only there were a flag I could hang or a bat signal to aim into the stars for her and her children to see.

It would read:




Birdie Pearl

An old nurse, now hermit. Trying to write this all down before I forget it.