We spoke to one woman who ghosted her own mother, here’s how it went

kirsti nicole hadley, neurodivergent campaigner, photographed by alun callender for good housekeeping
I ghosted my own mother, here’s how it went ALUN CALLENDER

Kirsti Nicole Hadley, 51, cut ties with both her parents, before reconciling with her father in his final years

For as long as I can remember, my home life was messy and unpredictable,’ says Kirsti Nicole Hadley.

‘My mum was 18 when I was born. She was quite a traumatised young woman, without support or the mental health diagnoses she probably needed. She thought
the whole world was against her. I remember thinking at a very early age: “I never want to be like that.”’

Once, when Kirsti was a baby, her mother asked her own parents to watch her while she popped to the shops. ‘She came back a week later,’ says Kirsti. ‘My grandad refused to give me back, so my mum called the police. The whole thing was quite the scene, apparently.’

quiet calm
Nick Dolding - Getty Images

She adds: ‘My dad would appear for a few months, then disappear again. He was a stranger, really, but growing up, I pined for the idea of a dad.’ At 17, Kirsti left home, breaking off most contact with her mother. ‘I would go home periodically because I didn’t want to lose contact with my younger sister. But I had to put clear boundaries and a lot of distance in place,’ she says.

Her father helped her move into her first flat. Kirsti was carrying a broken VHS player, given to her by her beloved grandfather, who had died two years previously. ‘It had huge sentimental value. My dad took it away, promising to get it fixed. And I didn’t see him again for 30 years.’

Her parents remained separated and, over the next two decades, Kirsti left both of them behind her. She moved from Birmingham to London, creating a loving family of her own and a successful career, first in PR, then as a consultant and campaigner for special educational needs.

‘When my son was born in 2011, I began to reconcile with my mum,’ she says. ‘Being a mother myself made me feel more empathetic and forgiving of her, and I resumed contact with her. But I only brought my son to meet her once. I still felt I didn’t want her energy around my child,’ she explains.

Meanwhile, she heard nothing from her father until she turned 40. ‘Messages started popping up on Facebook,’ she explains. ‘I thought: “What could you possibly give me now that I’ve sorted my life out and I’m doing well?” I wrote back and said: “I can’t see what either of us would have to gain from this.”’

Her mother’s death, in 2020, proved a turning point. ‘We’d made our peace,’ says Kirsti. ‘But we’d never gone deep; we never had the difficult conversations. I realised that there were things I never got to say, questions I never got to ask her. We always think we have more time.’ Her son was deeply affected, too. ‘He was really upset that he had never had the chance to know her.’

So, after some messaging and phone calls, she and her son – then 10 – boarded a train to Birmingham to see her father. ‘Three decades had passed since I’d last seen him. He was housebound now. Some friends were concerned: what’s his ulterior motive; can he be trusted? But as soon as we arrived, my son and my dad just bonded immediately. They had this close connection.’

They began visiting several times a year. ‘Who knows? Maybe at a different stage in my dad’s life, he would just have disappeared again, but for us, it was the right time for reconciliation,’ says Kirsti.

Every dynamic is different, and reconciliation may not be right for everyone, she stresses, adding: ‘He really stepped up; he really wanted to make amends. He was there for me in some really difficult times. It doesn’t make up for all he missed in my childhood, but it was healing for both of us,’ she says.

Three years later, in 2023, without warning, her father died. ‘He left his affairs in total disarray,’ says Kirsti.

‘But even that was healing in a way. Those three years taught me that he wasn’t a villain, he was just a mess. I’m really glad that we had those years, and he had that opportunity to father me for that short while.’

kirsti nicole hadley, neurodivergent campaigner, photographed by alun callender for good housekeeping
ALUN CALLENDER

Meanwhile, she has learned that being estranged from your parents doesn’t mean going without family or love.

‘Birthing a baby doesn’t make you a mum or dad,’ she says. ‘We all just need someone to believe in us and be there for us. For me, it was my grandad, but it can be anyone. The love of one person is lifechanging and life-giving.’

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