My daughter isn’t talking to me. She disabled the tracker on her iPhone, spending time at her father’s place, and it feels like she despises me. And honestly, she has every right to feel that way. I have let her down, and if this situation doesn’t change, it symbolizes my greatest failure as a person.
I can’t force my presence into her life. As a wise voice once said, “mother don’t smother.” I admit I’ve tried too hard at times, attempting to compensate for my past mistakes. However, it’s essential to respect our children’s individuality, allowing them space and honoring their wishes when they need it.
Many parents in recovery face the daunting task of slowly repairing the damage their addictions have inflicted on their relationships with their children. I can honestly say, it’s the alcohol that played a significant role in this rift. I would never intentionally ignore or abandon her. I still recall her sweet voice on the phone when she and her dad would call while I was lost in my own world.
“Mommyyyyyyyy!! Mommyyyyyy!” Her cries were both heartbreaking and strangely comforting. I know she misses me and needs my love, yet I couldn’t bring myself to be there for her. People warned me that if I didn’t change, I would lose my daughter, and I dismissed their concerns with arrogance. I thought, they don’t understand my bond with her. We are unique, and she gets my wild spirit. I was naive.
Now, I wait for her return, consumed by the flames of guilt and regret. Everyone always praised my daughter for her intelligence and spiritual gifts. She was such a bright light, born at home on New Year’s Day—a sign of something special.
Nothing compares to your own child. There are moments that etch themselves into your memory, like when she was born, her tiny alien-like face looking up at me. Her father jokingly called her a “little alien baby,” and we both felt that she was extraordinary, as if she had come from another realm.
Her stories about past lives captivated us. She spoke of a life with short, yellow-haired parents and her adventures as a secret princess in Egypt. How could I doubt her when she shared such vivid details?
During my partying days, I felt an overwhelming longing for her. I would sit with a drink, tears streaming down my face, thinking about how I needed to get sober for her sake. I thought once I stopped, everything would fall into place. I told myself, “Just a little longer,” after this festival or that celebration, but the thief of time took away precious moments of her childhood.
Those moments when she clung to me, her sweet breath on my neck as she fell asleep, or when we sang and laughed together, were pure. I wish I could travel back in time and correct my mistakes before it was too late. But now, my daughter is a teenager, and the distance between us is palpable.
“You only have a year sober,” she told me recently. “That doesn’t fix anything.” Since then, we haven’t spoken. I’m here, waiting for her, understanding the pain and resentment she must feel. I, too, have struggled with feelings of unforgiveness towards my own parents. Holding onto that anger only adds weight to the heart.
I’ve learned from many sources, yet my greatest teacher has always been her. She embodies a light that shines brightly, one that mirrors the wisdom of figures like Jesus and Buddha, who showed us the importance of compassion and forgiveness. We all strive to do better, and perhaps our purpose here is to learn the art of forgiveness.
I don’t want to lose another moment with you, my daughter. I’ll wait in hope and repentance. My love for you knows no bounds; I would traverse any distance to be your mother again in this lifetime.
“I’m comin’ home, I’m comin’ home, Tell the world I’m comin’ home,” as the saying goes, and I hope to mend the past.
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In summary, my struggle with addiction has created a painful rift between my daughter and me. I am left reflecting on the past, longing for reconnection and forgiveness, and hoping for a chance to be the mother she deserves.

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