I’m a 55-year-old woman, and my daughter is 25. She moved out when she was 18 because she craved independence, and honestly, I was so proud of her. It felt like she was spreading her wings and becoming the amazing woman I always knew she could be. We always remained close even after she left home. She visited pretty often, at least once or twice a month, and we spoke on the phone several times a week. I cherished our relationship; she was my best friend, my confidante, the one person I could always count on to be there for me. Life felt complete knowing I had her in my corner. My husband and her got along, so there never seemed to be a cause for worry. But then, over the last year, everything changed. It started subtly at first, almost imperceptibly. First, she said she couldn’t make it to her stepfather’s birthday dinner. She had some work event that she absolutely couldn’t miss. I understood. Things happen. But then came my birthday, and she had another excuse. And then Thanksgiving, Christmas… Every time I extended an invitation, she had a reason why she couldn’t make it. The excuses became more frequent and more elaborate, and it started to feel like she was actively avoiding me. I noticed a growing distance between us, a coldness that I couldn’t explain. Our phone calls became shorter, less frequent, and filled with awkward silences.
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I started to get worried. I asked her what was wrong, if I had done something to upset her. She’d always brush it off, saying, “Nothing, Mom, just busy,” and then she’d rush off the phone. Her voice sounded strained, unnatural, as if she was hiding something. My mind started racing, conjuring up the worst possible scenarios. Was she sick? Did her boyfriend say something? Was she hiding some deep, dark secret? Is she facing some financial problems that she doesn’t want to share? Maybe she was struggling with something at work, or perhaps she was feeling lonely and isolated.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The once vibrant and open connection between us had become a fragile thread, stretched thin and on the verge of snapping. I was desperate to find out what was happening, to understand why my daughter was pulling away from me. I tried to pry, to coax her into confiding in me, but she remained closed off, guarded, and evasive. The more I pushed, the further she seemed to retreat, until finally, I decided to give her some space, hoping that she would eventually come to me when she was ready.
Then last week, I bumped into her at the grocery store. It was a complete surprise. I hadn’t seen her in months, and I was so overjoyed that I rushed towards her, ready to envelop her in a hug. But when she saw me, her face contorted in a way I’d never seen before. She looked uncomfortable, anxious, and almost… scared. It was as if she’d seen a ghost. She tried to avoid eye contact, mumbling a quick hello before attempting to slip away.
I grabbed her arm and **demanded** she tell me what was going on. I told her that I couldn’t stand the silence any longer, that I needed to know why she was avoiding me. I told her that whatever it was, we could face it together, as mother and daughter. She finally looked down, her eyes filled with tears, and confessed: “It’s because of what my stepfather did.”
She began to explain about how my husband had made advances towards her and had said several inappropriate things to her. I was in complete shock. [“MY HUSBAND IS A MONSTER”]. I am now divorcing him. My family is broken. I don’t know how I can ever forgive him. My daughter and I are going to counseling together, and that’s all that matters.
