Every parent holds a picture of who their child will become. We imagine them working, falling in love, building a family, finding their own kind of joy. When an adult son or daughter lives with mental illness, addiction, or chronic instability, that picture can slip away slowly, often without anyone noticing what we've lost.
In my eight years of interviewing more than fifty mothers for my book, Difficult, I heard about this loss again and again. It rarely arrived as one big moment. It showed up in small, unexpected ones.
Paulette told me about the day her son came to see her fresh from the barber's chair, shaven and clean cut. "This is the kid that I would like him to always be," she said. After he left, she cried. The sight of him at his best reminded her of everything that so often wasn't.
Another mother described holding her first grandchild in the delivery room. She expected pure joy. Instead, she found herself remembering the birth of her own firstborn, the daughter who later became mentally ill, and all the suffering that had followed.
If moments like these sound familiar, there's a name for what you're feeling.
What is chronic sorrow?
The term "chronic sorrow" was coined in 1962 by Simon Olshansky, a social worker who worked with parents of children with disabilities. He noticed that these parents grieved, and that their grief didn't follow a neat path to resolution. It came and went throughout the child's life, and throughout the parents' lives, too.
Olshansky urged professionals to acknowledge this grief, and not to expect parents to reach an early or permanent "acceptance" of what had been lost.
Chronic sorrow is lingering sadness for what might have been.
Why this grief is so hard to carry
When someone dies, we have rituals for mourning. Friends bring food. There are services and condolence cards, and over time we expect the grieving person to heal and move forward.
But there are no rituals for mourning a child's lost potential while that child is still alive. Psychologist Pauline Boss calls this "ambiguous loss": a loss that is incomplete and uncertain. She describes it as the most stressful kind of loss because it defies resolution.
Mothers of struggling adult children often live with two forms of it. Sometimes our child is physically present but not truly there, lost to illness or substance use. At other times our child is physically gone, living on the street, in jail, or estranged, yet still very much alive in our hearts and minds.
Rosanne hasn't heard from her son in almost seven years, and she still doesn't know why. She keeps his photo by her bedside, and each night before sleep she touches it. "If I touch the photo," she told me, "I will have prayed for him somehow."
When the sorrow resurfaces
One of the most important things to understand about chronic sorrow is that it comes back. A wedding, a birth announcement, a movie, or a casual question from a neighbor can open the wound again.
Ellen told me how unsettled she felt when old acquaintances asked about her daughter. "Her peers are all getting married, and having all these successful careers," she said. "I never know how to answer."
The holidays, with their family gatherings and full-table expectations, can bring these feelings especially close to the surface.
You are not failing to cope
A mother's work has always been to protect her child and help that child grow into independence. When illness or addiction blocks that path, many mothers begin to doubt themselves. Some lose confidence. Some grieve deeply without fully recognizing it as grief.
Here is what I most want you to know: feeling this sadness again, years later, is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It doesn't mean you haven't "accepted" your situation. Chronic sorrow is a normal response to a real and ongoing loss, and giving it a name can bring real relief.
That said, if grief begins to keep you from living your life, please reach out to a clinician who understands these issues. You deserve support, too.
Continue the conversation
Join me live on December 3. My webinar Chronic Sorrow goes deeper into this kind of grief and how mothers can live alongside it. Register for the December 3 webinar
You don't have to carry this alone. My online support groups for mothers begin January 12 (daytime) and February 1 (evening). They are small, confidential, and a place where you don't have to explain. Learn about the Mothers' Support Groups
Read more from the book. Chapter 9 of Difficult explores chronic sorrow in greater depth. Read 3 free chapters
