The Grief And Relief That Came With Going No-Contact With My Dad

Hi, Eldest Daughter.

Welcome back.

As a reminder, this month I’m sharing a five-part series for eldest daughters who’ve made (or are considering making) the difficult decision to go no-contact with a family member.

In part one last week, I shared why I chose to take a time-out from my dad: the build up of emotional exhaustion, the weight of unresolved conflict and hurt, and the realization that space was the only way I could begin to heal and find myself again. 

If you haven’t read part one yet, I invite you to do so here before continuing on to part two below.

When I took a time-out from my dad, I didn’t expect all of the complicated emotions I would feel in the aftermath.

Even when you know it’s the right choice, going no-contact doesn’t come with a neat sense of closure. There’s grief that surfaces: grief for the version of the relationship you wanted to have, for the version of you who kept trying to make it work. 

And sometimes, alongside that grief, there’s relief. An unfamiliar lightness that feels both freeing and disorienting. 

This stage is where many eldest daughters struggle the most: holding two truths at once. You can love someone deeply and still need distance. You can feel sadness and peace in the same breath.

Continue reading below to hear more of my story.

Unexpected Grief

After I sent my dad a letter explaining why I was taking a time-out from our relationship to focus on my own healing, I stopped responding to his messages. 

I officially went no-contact.

I expected to feel lighter, freer, and empowered. 

And while I did feel all of those things, alongside those emotions I also felt profound grief. 

Here’s the thing no one told me about going no-contact: it’s incredibly sad to end a relationship, even temporarily, with a parent. Even when going no-contact is the only way to protect yourself and heal, it can still break your heart.

And going no-contact with my dad shattered me – even though I knew I needed to do it in order to preserve my mental and emotional health and well-being.

I experienced depression on and off in the weeks that followed my choice to go no-contact. There were days I had limited energy. Days I slept a lot. Days I cried. Days I felt numb. Days I didn’t want to see the people I loved or do things that typically brought me joy. And days I just wanted to burrow into myself and shut the world out.

I was grieving. 

Even though I made the right decision for myself, I was still suffering a deep loss. 

But, I wasn’t grieving the actual relationship I had with my dad. I was grieving the relationship I wanted to have with him.

I grieved for the little girl inside me who continuously held on to the hope that things could change and could get better. 

And I grieved for the little girl who was so desperate for her dad’s love that she kept letting herself get hurt, be disrespected, and have her needs ignored — all because she hoped he could finally give her what she needed. 

Because that little girl deserved what she never received.

When I went no-contact, I finally accepted that I would never have the healthy, connected, loving relationship I yearned to share with my dad. I accepted I would never be able to go to him with my hurt and have him hold me. I accepted I would never feel emotionally safe with him. I accepted I would never be able to fully trust him. 

I finally accepted that our current, broken relationship would probably never change.

When I went no-contact with my dad, I abandoned the hope that we could repair our relationship. 

And that acknowledgment, that loss of hope, broke my heart. 

And so, I grieved.

Quiet Relief

While I was grieving, I was also feeling something else: a bone-deep relief. 

It was disorienting to have some days so full of sadness and others so full of lightness. But the longer I stayed no-contact with my dad, the more at peace I felt. 

Since I was no longer devoting so much time and energy to navigating my relationship with him, I had more emotional bandwidth. I had less brain fog. I could concentrate more. I could retain information better. I could actually hear myself think.

Since I no longer needed multiple days to rest and recalibrate after spending time with my dad, I had more energy to devote to myself and other relationships I held dear. I had more energy for my own life. I wrote more. Read more. Saw friends more. Spent more quality time with my husband. I said yes to new opportunities. Went on more adventures. Laughed more.

Where I used to feel constantly on the edge of emotional burnout, I felt light. I felt calm. I felt rested (because I could finally rest). I felt at peace within myself and within my life. 

Honestly, I felt fucking good. 

I felt like myself again.

Holding Both Grief and Relief

It was confusing to feel both deep grief and strong relief at the same time. 

But healing isn’t linear. It’s messy. It’s complicated. It doesn’t always make sense. 

Some days, I was laughing until my stomach hurt with friends. Other days, it took everything in me to get out of bed and pull myself through the motions.  

Instead of trying to control what I was feeling, I simply let myself feel whatever I was feeling — be it grief or relief or anger or happiness — without judgment. 

If I needed to grieve, I let myself grieve. If I felt light and happy, I let myself feel light and happy. 

No judgement. No deep analysis. Just feeling.

And it was only by meeting myself exactly where I was in any given moment, and letting myself fully feel any emotions that arose, that I could move closer to healing. 

Over time I realized: I could feel both sadness and joy at the same time. I could continue to deeply love my dad and not be in a relationship with him. 

I could mourn the loss of the relationship I wanted, while also feeling relieved and joyful that I made the right choice and was finally choosing myself. 

I could hold both truths at once. And in allowing myself to do so, I could heal and reconnect with myself again.

***

Sitting in the space between grief and relief taught me a lot about myself: what I needed, what I’d been ignoring, and how much care it takes to rebuild from the inside out.

Next week, I’ll share ways I began tending to myself after going no contact – the small rituals, mindset shifts, and daily choices that helped me start feeling safe in my own life again.

See you then.