When Your Child Goes No Contact

There is a pain that doesn’t have a name. It’s the pain of being rejected by your own child. You poured everything you had into raising them—time, energy, money, love—and now they won’t speak to you. They’ve labeled you “toxic.” They may have posted things online, or they may have just vanished. Either way, the door is closed, and you’re left standing in the hallway, heart in your hands.

This isn’t about whether they were justified. That’s a hard and complicated conversation—one that may never happen. But right now, you’re the one who’s left behind. What are you supposed to do with all this hurt, confusion, and loss?

Here’s my answer. It’s not easy, but it’s honest. You start by doing three things:

1. Let go of trying to get them back.

I know. That sounds brutal. But chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught only deepens the wound. Trying to “fix” things before the other person is ready and willing - if that ever happens - will almost always backfire. The harder you chase them, the harder they will run; or, they will use your eagerness against you and manipulate and humiliate you by leading you on.

Letting go doesn’t mean you stop loving them. It means you release the grip of desperation. It means you stop tying your worth to whether they come back. You can still hold space in your heart for them, but you must stop building your life around a hope that may never come true.

2. Feel the feelings.

This is a grief like no other. It’s not the loss of someone through death—it’s the loss of someone who’s still walking around in the world, just not in your world. That makes it even harder. There’s no funeral, no casseroles, no rituals to help you process the pain.

So you have to create your own space for mourning. Cry when you need to. Be angry when it hits you. Feel the emptiness. Don’t rush past it. Don’t numb it. Talk to someone who can hold it with you—a therapist, a trusted friend, a support group. Grief needs to be felt before it can be healed.

3. Build a new life.

This might be the hardest part, but it’s also the most important. It’s time to imagine a life that doesn’t include your estranged child. Not because you’ve stopped loving them, but because you’ve resumed loving yourself.

Start small. A new hobby. A class. A volunteer role. A trip. A walk. A book club. You still have something to offer. You still have stories to tell. You still matter.

Rebuilding doesn’t erase what’s been lost, but it helps fill the empty spaces with something meaningful. Slowly, your life transforms into something new, something exciting - something that is uniquely yours.

This journey isn’t for the faint of heart. But if you’re reading this, you’re already on the path. And you’re not alone.

Here if you need me.

Thomas Wood, LCSW