It is not unusual for me to hear from parents whose now-estranged adult child once expressed deep gratitude for their upbringing and for the role their parent played in their life.

Often, these affirmations were written or spoken not long before the estrangement occurred.

Then, sometimes abruptly, communication stops—or resumes in ways that feel hostile, rejecting, or sharply critical. Parents are left bewildered by what appears to be a sudden and dramatic shift in how they are perceived.

Parents are frequently told that estrangement is primarily about “setting boundaries” or holding them accountable for harmful behavior. While boundaries can be important, they rarely require a wholesale reinterpretation of one’s childhood.

What many parents experience instead is something far more sweeping:

• A childhood once described as mostly good becomes redefined as fundamentally abusive
• Ordinary parental mistakes are reframed as evidence of pathology
• Complex, mixed relationships are reduced to a single explanatory label
• Context disappears, and intent is no longer considered

This does not mean the adult child is lying.
But it does mean their story has changed—sometimes dramatically.

And stories shape identity.

When Therapy Shapes Relationship Narratives

Therapy can be lifesaving. It can also, unintentionally, shape how people come to understand their most important relationships.

This concern is supported by research. A study published in Family Process by William J. Doherty and Steven M. Harris examined how often clients in individual therapy recalled therapists making what the authors termed relationship-undermining statements. These included suggestions that a partner would never change, had a diagnosable personality or Mental health disorder, or harbored negative motives; that the relationship was doomed from the start or beyond repair; or that divorce or breakup was the best option.

The findings were striking: Clients reported a high prevalence of these statements, and their presence was associated with poorer relationship outcomes as well as shorter durations of therapy. In other words, when therapists framed a primary attachment relationship as static, pathological, or irreparable, clients were more likely to disengage—not only from the relationship, but from treatment itself.

Although this study focused on marital and couple relationships, the underlying mechanism applies directly to parent-adult child estrangement. When an adult child enters therapy during a period of vulnerability and is repeatedly exposed to interpretations that cast a parent as fundamentally disordered, dangerous, or incapable of change, a complex relationship can quickly become reduced to a single, morally certain narrative.

In some therapeutic frameworks, distress is explored primarily through the lenses of injury, harm, and victimization. When this happens:

• Emotional pain is retroactively assigned a singular cause.
• Ambiguous memories are reinterpreted to confirm that explanation.
• Distance from parents is framed as healing, self-care, or self-advocacy.
• Doubt about the narrative may be treated as resistance or denial.

For adult children struggling with anxiety, depression, or identity confusion, such framing can feel clarifying. It offers moral coherence and directs shame away from the self. But it can also narrow the emotional lens through which the past—and the parent—is understood.

Identity, Moral Certainty, and Cultural Reinforcement

Many adult children come of age in a cultural moment that places enormous emphasis on identity, self-definition, and moral clarity.

Within this framework:

• Relationships are evaluated primarily by how they feel emotionally.
• Discomfort is often equated with harm.
• Power dynamics are assumed rather than examined.
• Separation is framed as empowerment.

Sociologist Eva Illouz has described how therapeutic culture encourages people to make sense of their lives through emotionally coherent narratives that bind past injury to present suffering and future self-transformation. These narratives can be deeply validating, but they can also become overly deterministic, leaving little room for complexity, ambivalence, or competing truths.

For some adult children, redefining themselves requires redefining their parents—not merely as flawed or imperfect, but as obstacles to becoming their “true” or “authentic” selves.

Estrangement then becomes more than a relational decision. It becomes an identity statement: This is who I am now—and who I am not.

Parental Alienation Doesn’t Always End in Childhood

Parental alienation is typically discussed in the context of divorce and custody disputes involving children. But alienation dynamics can continue well into adulthood and may involve other influential relationships.

Sometimes the alienating force is:

• A romantic partner
• A peer group
• An online community
• A therapist operating from a singular framework
• Another family member with unresolved grievances

When an adult child is repeatedly exposed to a one-sided narrative about a parent—especially during a vulnerable period—their perceptions can shift rapidly.

This is not “brainwashing.” It is relational gravity. And the more one narrative is reinforced, the harder it becomes to hold competing truths.

Why Estrangement Feels Like a Loss Without Closure

Estrangement is not merely separation. It is what family psychologist Pauline Boss has called an ambiguous loss—a loss that defies resolution because the person is physically present but psychologically absent.

The child is alive—but psychologically gone.

The relationship has ended—but the bond has not.

Because the shared story of the past has been rewritten, parents often find themselves grieving not only the relationship itself, but the version of reality they once shared with their child.

This is why advice such as “just respect their boundaries” can feel so inadequate. It overlooks the existential shock of realizing that someone who once knew you intimately now seems to know you only through a distorted or narrowed lens.

A Final Word to Parents

If you find yourself asking, Where did my loving child go?, consider this:

You are not imagining the change.

You are not alone in your confusion.

And you are not required to abandon your own reality in order to remain loving.

It is possible that your child may one day revisit the past with greater nuance. But sometimes the bravest work is not correcting the narrative, defending yourself, or persuading someone to see you differently.

It’s almost always worthwhile to examine your own blind spots, defensiveness, and need to prove your innocence. However, sometimes the bravest work is holding your self-respect and Self-compassion with steadiness and restraint—and remembering that the loving parent your child once knew was not a fabrication, but an expression of your character, your care, and the values you lived by.

To learn more, join my Substack Family Troubles.