Would a boundary stanch the pain?

Setting a Boundary with Yourself Rather Than Your Child

Dear Kathy,

When I see an estranged mother trying to set a boundary for her adult child, I think I know why she is doing it. The amount of grief, loss, and shame she is experiencing is overwhelming. Sometimes she doesn’t feel like she can get through her daily life. Do you have ideas for us to help us deal with the daily onslaught of grief many of us are experiencing? How do we cope, and even, possibly, how can we sometimes feel more alive than if we are grieving all of the time?

— Overwhelmed, Grieving, and Somewhat Hopeless.

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Dear Grieving,

Thank you so much for your letter. I agree, the grief of estrangement can be overwhelming. Like any grief, you want it to wane a bit so that you aren’t always just trying to swim to the surface. So, how do you do that?

First of all, it makes perfect sense that you would grieve important relationships that you have lost—be it your child or even your grandchildren. Or, if you are an adult child, you may grieve the loss of contact with your parents. They are no longer in your life because the relationship is too difficult, yet you miss them nonetheless. This is a profoundly painful experience.

(Note: While I am writing today specifically from the perspective of the parent, these truths apply to anyone navigating the silence of a loved one. I have heard from many adult children that they miss their parent deeply, but find they cannot maintain contact without a level of understanding that hasn’t been reached yet.)

Grief: A Form Love Takes in Absence

I am wondering if you might be unknowingly using grief as a way of remaining attached to your adult child. If you hold them in your heart—remembering, loving, and missing them—does it feel like you are still fulfilling your role as a parent? Does it keep you connected through the loss?

We know that by grieving, we feel close to the person we miss. That grief is the expression of a love that has lost its “home.” Sometimes, when we feel we have made errors in parenting, we unwittingly use our regret to stay close to the child we miss. We might subconsciously believe that as long as we are suffering, the bond remains intact. But how much does this constant mourning actually help? Usually, it simply pulls you under with no positive result.

Grieving may also reflect a lack of understanding. It expresses how you feel lost, misunderstood, or abandoned. You tried to be a good parent, but you have been told you failed. You may grieve the lost opportunity to be seen and experienced as you hoped you would be.

The Illusion of Control

My recent columns have been about boundaries. We wish we could set them with an estranged child because we want to feel more in control of our experience. A boundary can change interactions, but it can also provide an illusion of control that isn’t truly there.

Estranged parents frequently feel powerless and hope to get back in the driver’s seat of their emotional lives by setting limits. If a boundary is meant to stanch the bleeding of grief, here is an approach that is actually within your control: Finding Meaning.

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Finding Meaning in Your Grief

To summarize the work of David Kessler on the “sixth stage” of grief—meaning—we can look at our struggle through a different lens. Meaning is what we do with the love we still have for someone who is no longer in our daily lives. It is the bridge between the version of life we expected and the reality we are living now.

Meaning does not require a miracle; it is found in the way we choose to treat ourselves in the aftermath of the “miracle” that didn’t happen. When we take a walk, meditate, or prepare a healthy meal, we are saying: “My life and my well-being still have value, even in this pain.” That choice—the choice to care for the person we are right now—is where meaning lives.

This requires a small pivot away from the passive state of receiving the “waves” of grief toward an active position of creating meaning.

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Recommendations for Finding Meaning

(Based on the work of David Kessler)

1. Meaning is a Deliberate Choice. Kessler emphasizes that meaning is not a grand, external event. It is a choice made when the hoped-for resolution is not occurring.

   • The Goal: Shift focus from the cause of the pain to the character of the life you are building. Ask: “What is possible for me now?”

2. Meaning as Transformed Love. Finding meaning is the act of giving your love a new direction.

   • The Goal: Acknowledge that the depth of your grief reflects the depth of your love. Use that energy to fuel acts of care. Ask: “I am hurting today; what is one loving thing I can do for myself or another person?”

3. The Power of Mundane Self-Care. Meaning resides in small, repetitive acts of self-preservation.

   • The Goal: View daily routines—walking, cooking, resting—as meaningful declarations of your own value. See these acts as the fuel required to carry the loss.

4. Witnessing and Being Witnessed. For grief to transform, it must be acknowledged rather than hidden.

   • The Goal: Move from isolated suffering to shared resilience. Find “sturdy” support systems where you can speak your truth without shame. Many parents experience a great deal of shame and haven’t let others know what is going on. Often, telling friends is a massive relief; you may find they already noticed your silence.

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Building the Bridge: Your Meaning Framework

• The Outcome: Meaning allows you to move through the pain rather than living inside it.

• The Location: Meaning is found in the bridge between hope and reality.

• The Timing: Meaning is a choice made repeatedly, perhaps even daily.

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So, Dear Grieving,

I know you wish with all your heart that things were different. Since they currently remain as they are, I suggest you take steps to make meaning under these circumstances. This isn’t “giving up.” It’s seizing the moment and building the strength required to navigate this emotional weather.

A way forward may be to make meaning of your loss, at least for now, and to pivot toward finding new paths that include more self-compassion—both in your deep grief and in the moments where your day might actually feel a little lighter.

Best,

Kathy

Please reach out to me via my email Ksinsheimermft@gmail.com or in the Comments section

This is column # 28