Being abandoned by a parent can leave scars that never fully fade. And when that parent returns in need years later, the choice you face can feel impossible. One reader, Anna (34, F), shared how success didn’t protect her from a decision she never thought she would have to make.
Here’s her heartbreaking letter:
Hello,
I’m Anna, and at 34, I need to make what feels like an impossible choice. I hope you can help me make the right one.
When I was 16, my mom told me I had to leave our home. She said her boyfriend was moving in and didn’t want “another man’s kid” around. I remember asking her where I was supposed to go. She told me I would figure it out. That night, I left with a backpack and nowhere to sleep.
In just one night, I was homeless.
At first, I stayed with friends. When that stopped, I slept wherever I could. I finished school late. I worked whatever jobs I could find.
There were nights I went hungry and days I felt completely invisible. My mother never checked in. We barely spoke. I learned how to survive without her.
I built a life I was proud of on my own.
Years passed. I worked odd jobs, saved every dollar I could, put myself through college, and slowly worked up the corporate ladder.
By 34, I owned a large house and had a stable career. Everything I had, I built on my own. I told myself I was done looking back. Then one evening, my mom showed up at my door.
She asked for my help like nothing had ever happened.
She looked older. Smaller. Tired. She said her boyfriend was gone. She said she was sick and had nowhere to stay.
Then she asked if she could move in. My first instinct was to tell her no. I reminded her of the night she kicked me out. I told her I could not open my home to someone who had made me homeless as a child.
She did not argue. She handed me an envelope and turned away.
The envelope changed everything.
Inside was a hospital report. My mom had stage four pancreatic cancer. Prognosis: six weeks, possibly less.
I ran outside. She was still there, holding onto the railing to steady herself. She took my hand and said quietly, “I’ve already lost everything. Please don’t let me lose you twice.”
Now I have to decide what kind of person I want to be.
If I let her move in, I will be inviting the person who abandoned me back into my life at my most vulnerable place. I will be reliving the night she told me to leave every time I see her in my home.
If I refuse, I will be the last door she ever knocks on. I will be the person who leaves a dying woman alone, even if she once did the same to me. She chose her boyfriend over me when I was sixteen. Now she is asking me to choose between my peace and her final weeks.
If you were in my place, which choice would you live with? Please help me!
Yours sincerely,
Anna
Dear Anna, thank you for writing to us. You were so brave when you were 16, and you continue to be brave now while you make an almost impossible choice. The truth is, there’s no right or wrong answer here, but here are some things to keep in mind:
You can acknowledge her situation without rewriting your past: Feeling compassion now does not erase what happened when you were sixteen. Both truths can exist at the same time, even if they pull you in opposite directions. Letting go of old hurts doesn’t mean pretending they didn’t happen. It means actively processing the emotions connected to them.
Practices like journaling, mindfulness, and talking through the past can help you understand how early experiences shaped you without letting them define your choices now.
Break the choice into pieces and tune into your inner sense of what feels right: When a decision feels impossible, separating the emotional, practical, and long-term pieces can help you see what each option actually means for your life. Paying attention to patterns in your feelings and reactions, not just logic, can give you insight into which choice aligns with your values and what you can live with most comfortably.
You are allowed to protect the life you built: The home and stability you have now came from years of surviving on your own. Whatever you decide, it is okay to consider your own emotional safety alongside her needs.