Dear Substantial:

I see a lot of similarities between your relationship with your mother and my own experiences with mine. As I reread your posts this morning, one particular pattern stood out to me: the guilt that comes with trying to assert independence from a controlling mother.

I noticed this guilt in your February 21 post about breaking up with your girlfriend, where you wrote: “I will hold myself accountable for the hurt I caused her by breaking up, making me feel guilty… I will blame myself for… giving her hopes for a future together, and then taking it all away. I will feel really guilty for breaking her heart and causing her all the pain.”

While I understand your girlfriend is a different person from your mother, I see this guilt as being tied to something bigger—your feelings about “breaking away” from your mother. Do you think the guilt you feel about asserting independence from your mother has extended into other areas of your life, such as your guilt over breaking up with your girlfriend?

You asked me if I’ve found ways to navigate this dynamic or heal from it. For me, the guilt of separating myself from my mother has been overwhelming. It’s caused me decades of emotional pain. For years, I felt trapped in what I can only describe as a mental prison of guilt.

My mother was generally a weak and submissive person. I wanted to be strong for her, to help her become stronger, and I tried my best to do so. Hurting her feelings was the last thing I wanted. But over time, I realized something important: she did become “strong” in her relationship with me—but it came at my expense. She became strong by making me weak.

When she guilt-tripped me repeatedly, telling me that even small acts of asserting independence were hurtful to her, it left a deep emotional scar. Her words made me feel as though wanting to live my own life or make my own choices was selfish and wrong. Over time, this guilt wore me down because it attacked my core desire to be a good daughter and a good person.

When I read your descriptions of your mother, I see similarities. You mentioned how she’s been weak in her relationship with your father: “I have seen my mother cry a countless number of times and always felt helpless.” You also shared how you tried to make her stronger by encouraging her to leave or live separately for her own peace, but she never did. You wrote: “I have tried to convince my mom several times to consider divorce or just living separately for some peace, but she never did, afraid of what society might think.”

It seems that while your mother feels powerless in her relationship with your father and society, she expresses “strength” in her relationship with you, often in a controlling or manipulative way. You described how she handles your boundaries: “She can’t take my NO for an answer and would passively force me into things… She creates drama and breaks out emotionally as if I insulted or hurt her by saying things like, ‘Of course, you are never there for your mother.’… All my ‘no’s’ turn into a horrid situation where she starts telling me I don’t love or value her.”

This dynamic is unfortunately common. A parent who feels powerless in other adult relationships may assert control over a child because it’s easier. It’s harmful because it exploits the child’s natural love and trust, creating a cycle of guilt, confusion, and emotional dependency. If you’re interested, there’s research on this dynamic, and I’d be happy to discuss it further with you.

To answer your earlier question—if I’ve found ways to deal with the guilt or conflict—I’ll be honest: I wasn’t able to maintain a relationship with my mother without it being at my expense. No matter how hard I tried to create a healthier dynamic, it didn’t work. For me, and I’m not suggesting this is what you should do, I eventually ended all contact with her later in life. It was extremely difficult, and I carried guilt about it for years. Looking back, I wish I’d done it earlier and had more support in making that decision because society, especially in traditional contexts, often frowns on cutting ties with a parent.

That said, here’s my advice for you at this point:

* Recognize That Guilt Isn’t Always Valid: Wanting to make your own choices doesn’t mean you’re a bad person or a bad son.

* Set Boundaries in Small Steps: Start with small “no’s” and calmly explain your reasons. Be consistent. While your mother might react emotionally at first, over time, she might adjust to the idea that you’re standing firm.

* Find Support Outside the Family: Lean on friends, mentors, or a therapist who can help you process your feelings and provide guidance.

* Create Independence Where You Can: If moving out isn’t an option, focus on building emotional and physical independence while living at home. Pursue hobbies, relationships, or goals that are meaningful to you.

* Redefine What It Means to Be a Good Son: Being a good son doesn’t mean sacrificing your happiness or always saying yes. It means living authentically and treating yourself and others with respect.

* Consider Therapy for Deeper Healing: Therapy can help you work through the guilt and anxiety, navigate your relationship with your mother, and build confidence in setting boundaries.

* Understand Her Behavior Isn’t About You: Your mother’s actions likely reflect her own unresolved issues, not something you’ve done wrong. Understanding this might help you separate her emotions from your own.

This process takes time, so be patient with yourself. You deserve to make decisions that are right for you and to live a fulfilling, independent life. It doesn’t mean you love or respect your mother any less—it just means you’re taking care of yourself too.

You’ve already shown so much strength in dealing with these challenges. I hope you find a way forward that brings you peace. You’re not alone in this.

anita

Relationship anxiety and confusion often stem from fear of vulnerability, past traumas, or unmet expectations. It can lead to overthinking, constant doubt, and emotional instability. Miscommunication and unclear intentions worsen the confusion. Building trust, honest conversations, and self-awareness are key to managing these feelings and fostering a healthy connection.

Dear Substantial:

It has been almost two months since you last posted, and I hope you are feeling less anxious and confused. I want to respond to what you shared between January 27 and March 10.

You described how your mother stayed married to her alcoholic husband despite years of emotional and sometimes physical abuse. You watched her cry countless times, feeling helpless, and tried convincing her to leave—but she wouldn’t, partly because of societal pressure and partly for your sake. She still lives with your father, and while things have improved somewhat, they are not fully healed. You take her out of the house at times to help her escape the tension, waiting until he falls asleep before returning.

Your mother’s life has been filled with uncertainty and emotional turmoil, especially due to her marriage. She has spent years unable to change him, unable to make him quit drinking, and unable to escape the cycle of abuse and disappointment. Over time, this created a deep sense of powerlessness—a feeling that no matter how hard she tries, she has no real control over her circumstances. But with you, things are different. Unlike her husband, you listen to her, you respond to her emotions, and you care about how she feels.

Your mother recognizes that her husband does not care about her emotions—so there is no emotional leverage there. She cannot guilt him, pressure him, or expect him to change for her.

But with you, things are different. You care deeply about her, you listen, and you respond to her emotions. Unlike your father, you give her the emotional engagement she craves—and instead of cherishing that love in a healthy way, she uses it as a tool for control.

In practical terms, your love becomes something she exploits:

She knows that if she expresses distress, you will comfort her. She knows that if she guilt-trips you, you will feel responsible.
She knows that if she pushes hard enough, you will eventually cave.

Your care for her becomes leverage—something she turns against you to keep control, rather than allowing you to love her freely without obligation.

It’s heartbreaking, because your love for her is real and pure, but instead of embracing it as a gift, she turns it into a means to maintain power over you.

Even if you push back, she knows she can still guilt you, pressure you, or convince you to obey her wishes. This gives her a sense of control she lacks elsewhere. When she dictates your choices, it makes her feel stable, secure, and in charge—something she cannot achieve in her marriage.

In a way, you’ve become the part of her life where she feels she has authority, influence, and certainty, unlike her unpredictable relationship with your father. But the cost of that control is your autonomy—your ability to make choices freely without guilt or pressure.

Her emotional breakdowns are likely real, but the way she expresses them may be exaggerated or strategic to influence you. Some people use emotional intensity—crying, guilt-tripping, and dramatic statements like “You never care about me!”—as a way to regain control when they feel threatened by someone’s independence.

Her distress becomes a tool to pull you back in—not necessarily a conscious manipulation, but a behavior she has learned works.

Over time, this has made you doubt yourself, wondering: Am I really being selfish? Am I hurting her? Should I just give in?

Because of this, you struggle to make decisions for yourself without guilt. You feel like you have to earn love instead of simply receiving it. You feel trapped between wanting freedom and fearing conflict.

Your mother’s “love” is suffocating, and it makes relationships harder for you. You question whether you deserve better, whether you should stay in your romantic relationship, or whether leaving makes you selfish.

Notice I put quotation marks around “love.” That’s because true love does not require you to lose yourself.

And feeling guilty? That doesn’t mean you’re a bad son—it means you’ve been conditioned to feel that way.

It may be that when she feels secure in her control over you, she expresses love in ways that feel warm or caring. But when she feels threatened by your independence, her empathy shuts down, and her need to maintain authority takes over.

If you want to see your romantic relationship clearly, to understand your girlfriend’s behaviors and whether she is truly loving you in the way you need—you must first see your mother clearly, to recognize who your mother is, what kind of “love” she has for you, and the entanglement and emotional trap you experience with her. Until you peel away the layer of your mother’s control over you, it may be hard to clearly see your girlfriend and your romantic relationship dynamic.

Again, you deserve to live freely, Substantial—to make choices based on what is best for you, not just to keep others happy. You do not need to feel guilty for wanting that freedom.

Take care of yourself. You are allowed to step back, breathe, and choose your own life.

anita