I’m a 67-year-old woman with two children, but it often feels like I have none.
My son, now 37, is at an age where I thought he’d be supporting me, but instead, I find myself still supporting him. Recently, he was sleeping at his workplace after his girlfriend kicked him out. He’s struggled with drug issues since his teens, and I’ve spent years trying to help him get back on his feet. I even arranged for him to get an apartment through social services—something he almost lost because I had to push him to handle the paperwork. His constant fights with his partner embarrass me, especially since I work with the people managing the building where he lives.
My daughter, 35, has built a stable life for herself but hasn’t spoken to me in two years. Out of the blue, she wrote me a message saying she didn’t want any contact and would reach out when she’s ready. I’ve tried sending her messages through her husband, hoping he’ll pass them along, but I’ve received no response.
My children were raised in a stable, loving home—so different from the abusive, alcoholic upbringing I endured. My husband and I worked hard to create a better life for them, making sure they didn’t face the hardships I did. When my daughter got pregnant at 18, we stood by her. We welcomed her back home when her relationship with the child’s father ended. Yet now, it feels like none of that mattered. I don’t understand where I went wrong or why my daughter has distanced herself. It feels selfish, and it hurts deeply.
As I get older, I know I’ll need my children’s support, but instead, I feel like I’ll be left alone. I’ve spent my life taking care of them—how do I get them to be there for me now?
It sounds like you’re carrying a lot of pain and confusion right now, but let’s be clear: your relationship with your children didn’t fall apart overnight. Your daughter’s decision to go no-contact wasn’t random, and your son’s struggles with addiction didn’t come out of nowhere. These outcomes point to deep, long-standing issues that need to be addressed—not glossed over.
You say you gave your kids a good upbringing, but the reality is that they’ve made it clear they don’t see it that way. The first step to repairing anything is admitting there’s something to repair. That means taking a hard, honest look at how your choices, behaviors, or even unintentional actions might have contributed to the current situation. Just because you didn’t repeat the abuse you experienced doesn’t mean you provided an environment that felt healthy and supportive to them. You might not see it, but it’s clear they experienced things differently.
Let’s talk about your daughter. Cutting off a parent is never easy, and it’s rarely done on a whim. She has her reasons, even if you don’t agree with them or understand them yet. Calling her selfish and ignoring her boundaries isn’t helping—it’s reinforcing her decision to stay distant. Bombarding her husband with messages isn’t the path to reconciliation. It’s time to respect her space and work on understanding why she felt the need to step away in the first place.
As for your son, it’s clear you love him, but constantly stepping in to save him is preventing him from growing and taking accountability for his own life. Supporting someone doesn’t mean shielding them from consequences—it means encouraging them to take responsibility and helping them get back on their feet when they’re ready. That’s hard to do, but it’s necessary.
Now, here’s the tough part: your children don’t owe you anything. Being a parent means raising your kids to be independent and then letting them go. It doesn’t mean they’re obligated to take care of you in return. You chose to have them; they didn’t choose to be born. Whatever you’ve done for them was your responsibility as a parent—it’s not a debt they’re required to repay. If you’re worried about your future, now’s the time to start planning and building a support system that doesn’t rely solely on them.
Finally, I can’t emphasize this enough: seek therapy. A good therapist can help you unpack the pain, confusion, and resentment you’re feeling and guide you toward self-reflection and healing. Therapy can also help you see the patterns and dynamics that led to where you are now. Not every wound is big and obvious; sometimes it’s a series of small, unacknowledged hurts that build up over time. A therapist can help you recognize your role in the strained relationships with your kids and give you tools to start mending what’s broken—starting with yourself.
Healing takes time and effort, but it starts with accountability. If you want a better relationship with your children, you need to take a step back, reflect on your actions, and focus on becoming the kind of person they’d want to welcome back into their lives. That’s the only path forward.