Dear Abigail,
I’m the mother of a 23-year-old son, and I feel like I’ve lost him even though he’s still alive.
He grew up in what I believed was a loving, close family. We traveled together, celebrated holidays together, and genuinely enjoyed one another’s company.
During college, my son met a woman his age online. She lived on the opposite side of the country, and for the first two and a half years, their relationship was entirely long-distance. During that time, she was in constant contact with him, through texts, FaceTime, Snapchat, and online gaming. My son, who had always been outgoing and sociable, gradually stopped building friendships in college, and instead spent nearly all his free time talking to her.
After graduation, she joined my son on the East Coast, and they moved into a luxury apartment together, against our wishes. We had encouraged them to continue dating while living separately because we felt that, at 22, they were too young to become so dependent on each other. Instead, they both work remotely from their apartment and spend nearly all their time together. She knows no one on the East Coast, even after a year here. The only people she interacts with are people in my son’s friendship group, which has become smaller and smaller.
Since the beginning of their relationship, nearly every family gathering has become a source of conflict. After they visit us, my son will accuse us of having said or done things that offend his girlfriend—things that never happened. His girlfriend seems unable to tolerate him spending time alone with his family. On my husband’s birthday—an occasion he had always marked with a father-son golf outing—she insisted on riding in the golf cart throughout the round, and my son left immediately afterward without spending any meaningful time celebrating his father.
Most recently, my son declined to attend the wedding of the son of our closest lifelong friends, after learning that girlfriends were not invited. He made many excuses that were lies, saying for example that it would be logistically difficult for him to get there. My brother-in-law, whom my son deeply respects, spent hours talking with him, and even offered to drive him door-to-door, to eliminate any practical hurdles. My son still refused.
I know parents aren’t perfect, and I’m sure we’ve made mistakes. But we worked hard to give our son every opportunity in life, including a debt-free education and career guidance. Yet he believes we—in particular, me; he views my husband as my puppet—are controlling, judgmental people who ruined his life. (Think: Brooklyn Beckham.) It feels as though his world has shrunk to one relationship. The family, friendships, and interests that once brought him joy have slowly disappeared, diminished by his girlfriend, who is 100 percent emotionally, financially, and socially dependent on our young son.
We have continued inviting him to family events, and never stopped loving him, but my husband and I have lapsed into an ugly pattern: spending time analyzing every conversation we have with our son, and debating every text and every family interaction. We are exhausted, and terrified that any decision could permanently damage our relationship with our son.
When do you stop trying to convince your child that you’re not the person they’ve come to believe you are? When does continuing to pursue an adult child become counterproductive? Every attempt at contact with our son is fraught with stress and disappointment. It is now putting stress on our marriage, and our relationship with our other son. Is the loving response to keep reaching out, or to step back, leave the door open, and hope he someday finds his way back on his own?
—Heartbroken Mother, 63
Dear Heartbroken Mother,
Your son met a girl—yes, she seems clingy—from the other coast. They dated through college. After graduation, she moved across the country to be with him and despite your urgent advice, they moved in together.
You aren’t paying their rent—but you’re offended that your son is living in a “luxury” apartment with this girlfriend, while they both work from home. He still attends family gatherings but after, complains that you said something insensitive to his girlfriend, which strikes you as supremely unfair. Your son joined his dad for the annual father-son golf match (a several-hour outing, no doubt), but he brought his girlfriend along and didn’t spend “meaningful” time with his family after. Worst of all, he declined to attend your lifelong friends’ son’s wedding when his girlfriend wasn’t invited.
Let’s recap your son’s attendance record: The golf outing? Present! The family gatherings? Present! His uncle’s lecture? Present! (He suffered through it respectfully). The friend’s wedding invitation? He declined, as many in his situation would.
Now, you are “heartbroken” and bereaved, feeling as if you have “lost” your 23-year-old son “even though he’s still alive.” You wonder if you should stop reaching out to your son and just hope he someday “finds his way back on his own.”
I read these lines, picturing myself as your son. And I was seized by an overwhelming desire to find a girlfriend on the internet, move into a luxury apartment with her, and visit my parents infrequently.
