As a therapist, I’ve had countless clients sit across from me and struggle to find the words for a particular kind of heartbreak—the pain of having a mother who is alive, yet emotionally unavailable, inconsistent, or unable to nurture in the way they needed growing up. For many, this wound runs deep and silent, wrapped in layers of confusion, guilt, and grief.

It’s not uncommon for clients to whisper things like, “It’s like she was there, but not really there,” or “I feel guilty for wanting distance from her, but I also feel like I can’t breathe when I’m around her.” When they express this, they often look at me with fear in their eyes, wondering if they’re a bad daughter—or worse, a bad person—for feeling this way.

Unfortunately, society doesn’t make this easier. Clients have shared the heavy weight of being met with judgments like, “But she’s your mother,” or “You’ll miss her when she’s gone.” These phrases are meant to encourage connection but often do the opposite—they shame and silence the very real pain of unmet maternal needs. Instead of validation, my clients are left feeling like they’re carrying a secret no one else understands.

That’s why I often recommend the book Mother Hunger by Kelly McDaniel.

Mother Hunger has been a transformative resource for many of my clients. It speaks directly to the grief of not having the mothering one longed for—not necessarily due to abuse or abandonment, but because of emotional absence, enmeshment, neglect, or generational trauma. The book helps clients name their pain, understand its origins, and most importantly, release the shame that often keeps them stuck.

Reading Mother Hunger often brings a sense of relief to clients: “Finally, someone put into words what I’ve been feeling my whole life.” It validates the loss of the mother they needed, even if their mother is still living. It helps them understand that this longing is not a flaw—it’s a natural response to a vital developmental need that went unmet.

In sessions, I’ve seen how this book opens the door to deeper self-compassion. It offers language to express the inexpressible. And for those who’ve had to set boundaries—or even step away from the relationship with their mother—it helps them feel less alone and less ashamed of doing what they needed to survive and heal.

Healing from “mother hunger” isn’t about blaming or villainizing a parent. It’s about acknowledging what was missing and learning how to provide those missing pieces for yourself now. Whether that’s through therapy, nurturing relationships, inner child work, or re-mothering practices, healing is possible.

If you’ve felt the ache of a mother who couldn’t mother you, please know: your feelings are valid, your pain is real, and your healing journey matters. You are not alone—and you are not wrong for protecting your peace.

Mother Hunger has been a powerful companion for many of my clients on this journey. If this speaks to you, I encourage you to explore it and consider working through the emotions it brings up with a therapist who understands this terrain. Contact us here at Core3 today and schedule a complimentary consultation to learn how we can support you on your journey.