What If Your Mother Abandoned You Twice?
In this heart-wrenching and unapologetically honest post, A. B. Caes recounts the two times her mother left her—once as a toddler, and again after a summer that felt like redemption. Through raw storytelling and razor-sharp reflection, she explores the complexity of maternal abandonment, emotional rejection, and the ache of wanting a relationship that keeps slipping away. Perfect for readers who’ve wrestled with estranged family bonds and the longing for love that never quite arrives.
RELATIONSHIPS
A.B. Caes
6/7/20251 min read
The first time she left, I was two.
The second time, I was fourteen.
Both times, I called her “Mom.”
The first abandonment was physical. My mom left me and my baby brother behind in the Philippines. She said it was to “build a better life”.
The second time was trickier. Because it started with magic.
That summer, I visited her in Philippines. She acted like we hadn’t missed a day. Took me out dancing. Called me beautiful. Let me sip wine. I felt like her best friend, not the daughter she left behind. Everyone thought we were sisters. It was the happiest I’d ever seen her—and the closest I’d ever felt to her.
I came back the next year with a suitcase full of hope.
She didn’t answer the door.
I didn’t know then that she’d had a breakdown. That her mind was splintering. That she thought she was protecting me by hiding. I just knew I wasn’t wanted. Again.
Abandonment doesn’t always look like slammed doors. Sometimes it’s silence. Sometimes it’s “not now.” Sometimes it’s watching your mother fade behind a peephole as you wait outside with a duffel bag and a dream.
This post isn’t here to shame her. It’s to say:
If you’ve been left, more than once, by the same person—
You’re not unlovable. You’re not broken.
And their leaving doesn’t define your staying.
I Killed My Brother isn’t just about death.
It’s about the people who vanish while still breathing.
