The relationship we inherit at birth is often described in words that feel absolute. “Unconditional love” is a phrase we grow up hearing in lullabies, in bedtime stories, in the hushed tones of family lore. For many, a parent’s love becomes the template against which all other connections are measured. Yet, anyone who has navigated the unpredictable terrain of family life knows that love is rarely just one thing. It can be steadfast and sustaining. It can also be complicated, wounded, or withheld. Sometimes it is all of these at once.
That complexity is not confined to ordinary households. Famous families, with their red-carpet appearances and carefully curated interviews, have long suggested unity and warmth. But beneath the polished veneer, the same human tensions exist. In a recent essay for the Wall Street Journal, actress Heather Graham revealed a 30-year estrangement from her parents, a rupture rooted in their disapproval of her career choices. Singer Elle King, daughter of comedian and Saturday Night Live alum Rob Schneider, has spoken openly about stepping back from her father, describing his actions as toxic. Even the famously private Shiloh, third-eldest child of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, made headlines by petitioning to remove “Pitt” from her last name.
While these stories have the added glare of celebrity, they touch on a reality that is playing out quietly in living rooms and over unanswered phone calls around the world. Social media, in particular, has given estrangement a strange visibility. On TikTok, a trend emerged in which people “cancel” their parents, turning the act of severing ties into content. On X, formerly Twitter, the conversation turns more divided. One user, who goes by Allie, wrote: “I understand adult boundaries, and I even understand crazy no-contact situations. But publicly celebrating your ‘orphan era’ by putting your parents on blast doesn’t make you look like the good guy.”
Behind these viral moments are deeper questions. Why do people reach the point of cutting ties? When is it an act of survival, and when is it an unhealed wound finding another outlet? The answers are neither simple nor uniform. Mental health professionals often speak of estrangement as the end point of a long and complicated journey — one that usually begins with attempts at repair, only to find the damage too ingrained, the harm too persistent, or the cost to personal well-being too high.
Although data is difficult to pin down, research suggests it is far from rare. A YouGov poll found that more than one in four Americans are estranged from an immediate family member. Of those, 11 percent are estranged from a parent. The survey noted higher rates of estrangement among men, people aged 30 to 44, and those in the LGBTQIA+ community. Cultural background, societal expectations, and generational norms all weave into the decision. Some cultures frame familial duty as non-negotiable, while others emphasize individual autonomy, making the act of stepping away more acceptable — though not necessarily easier.
The reasons, when told in full, are often anchored in the earliest years of life. Psychologist Carly Harris explains that childhood experiences leave imprints that can take decades to fully understand. Trauma, miscommunication, and unhealthy patterns can grow into a quiet, enduring resentment. Some children grow up feeling that no matter how much they try to repair the connection, their parents will not or cannot meet them halfway. Over time, distance becomes the safer choice. For others, adulthood brings not only independence but also a clearer sense of personal values. When those values clash repeatedly with a parent’s worldview, the friction can turn into full-scale conflict.
Psychologist Catherine Nobile notes that as people step into adulthood, they often feel freer to address unresolved tensions. With that freedom comes the choice — sometimes reluctantly, sometimes decisively — to create space. The presence of chronic conflict, patterns of control, or a parent’s unwillingness to acknowledge harm can tip the balance. For some, it is not a single incident but a long accumulation of small dismissals, each one eroding trust.
The language of estrangement has changed in the age of social media. Words like “toxic,” “narcissistic,” and “gaslighting” have become part of everyday vocabulary. While such terms can help people articulate experiences that once went unnamed, they can also be overused or misapplied. Still, the underlying truth remains: some parents do cause harm, and some relationships are healthier at a distance. Marriage and family therapist Jeanie Chang has worked with clients for whom family members were, quite simply, the most toxic presence in their lives. Psychologist Joel Frank points to patterns such as constant criticism, lack of empathy, emotional manipulation, controlling behavior, favoritism, and repeated boundary violations as behaviors that can undermine a child’s self-esteem and sense of security well into adulthood.
Choosing how to respond to such dynamics is deeply personal. Some attempt to manage the relationship through carefully set boundaries, hoping to preserve a thread of connection without sacrificing their mental health. Others find that any level of contact reopens old wounds. For those in the first group, boundaries can take many forms: reducing the frequency of visits or calls, steering conversations away from triggering topics, or setting limits on what they are willing to disclose. Communicating these limits can be fraught, especially if the parent responds defensively or with denial.
Therapist Holly Schiff encourages people in these situations to begin by validating their own feelings. In families where emotions were dismissed or minimized, learning to trust one’s internal experience can be an act of healing in itself. Harris adds that emotions such as guilt, sadness, and anger often exist together, making the decision more complicated. Working with a therapist or support group can help untangle these feelings and offer tools for self-care.
Estrangement, whether temporary or permanent, is rarely free from loneliness. The absence of a parent can feel like the absence of an anchor, even if that anchor was sometimes pulling you under. Friends, chosen family, and community can help fill that space, but the shape of the loss remains unique. There is no universal timeline for adjusting to it.
In some cases, estrangement is not the final step but a pause — a way to reduce exposure to harm while leaving open the possibility of reconnection. Limiting contact, for instance, can give both parties space to reflect. A once-a-week phone call instead of daily texts might provide breathing room without severing ties completely. Sometimes, however, the healthiest choice is a complete break. Chang describes this as an “emotional cut-off,” a term used in family systems theory to describe both physical and psychological distance. The decision often comes after repeated cycles of harm and repair attempts that never hold.
For those who do take this step, the absence can also be a catalyst for self-reflection. It invites questions about what kind of family you want to build in the future, whether with a partner, children, or through friendships that take on a familial role. Breaking a cycle of toxic parenting is possible, but it requires intentionality. Nobile advises focusing on positive reinforcement, cultivating emotional regulation, and learning healthy parenting practices through books, workshops, or support groups. The aim is not perfection but awareness — knowing what patterns you want to leave behind and what values you want to nurture.
Parenting styles can pass down as unconsciously as eye color, but unlike genetic inheritance, these patterns can be interrupted. For some, that means examining their own childhood with a critical but compassionate lens. Which moments felt supportive? Which moments caused harm? Which habits were born out of survival rather than love? By answering these questions, you create a blueprint for doing things differently.
Even without children, the act of setting and holding boundaries with a parent can ripple into other areas of life. It can reshape how you approach friendships, romantic relationships, and even professional environments. Boundaries become less about exclusion and more about clarity — about knowing where you end and another person begins. They are not walls so much as gates, opening and closing according to what feels safe and respectful.
Culturally, the rise in open discussions about estrangement reflects a shift in how we think about family. In some places, walking away from a parent is still considered unthinkable, a betrayal not only of the individual but of the community that expects loyalty above all else. In others, autonomy is prized, and leaving a harmful relationship is seen as a sign of self-respect. Global connectivity means that these perspectives collide and coexist in the same digital spaces, shaping the language we use and the stories we share.
In quieter ways, estrangement also intersects with the broader conversation about mental health. A generation ago, therapy was often stigmatized, seen as something for the severely unwell rather than a tool for anyone navigating life’s challenges. Today, it is more common to seek professional help for relationship issues, including those within the family. This shift has made it easier for people to recognize when a dynamic is unhealthy and to explore options beyond endurance.
None of this makes the decision less weighty. To cut ties with a parent is to acknowledge that the relationship, in its current form, is unsustainable. It is also to accept the ambiguity that comes with it: the possibility that reconciliation may never come, that love may always be mixed with grief, that your understanding of family will need to be rewritten.
But there is another truth, quieter and often overlooked. Estrangement can be an act of love — love for yourself, for your peace, for the future you want to protect. It can be a way of refusing to pass on harm, of creating space for healthier connections to take root. In this way, distance does not always mean abandonment. Sometimes it is a boundary drawn in the hope of something better, even if that hope is for your own life rather than the relationship itself.
And when the noise of public opinion fades — when the hashtags stop trending and the debates on X scroll out of view — what remains is the deeply personal work of living with that choice. It is in the rituals of everyday life: making coffee in the quiet of your own kitchen, sending a message to a friend who feels like family, noticing that you can breathe more easily in your own home. It is in the realization that you are not defined solely by where you came from, but also by where you decide to go.
For some, that journey will circle back, bringing them to a place where reconnection feels possible. For others, the path will keep them moving forward, carrying the memory of what was and the clarity of what is. Both are valid. Both require courage. And both remind us that family, in its truest sense, is not just inherited — it is built, chosen, and sometimes remade entirely.
In the end, perhaps the most radical act is to hold space for both love and distance, to accept that they can coexist without cancelling each other out. That a parent can be both a formative figure and a person you no longer speak to. That the story of family is not a straight line but a series of chapters, some closed, some open, and some still being written. And that your own well-being is not selfish, but essential — the foundation on which all other relationships are built.
WhatsApp
Instagram
Threads
