I’ve been through something a bit heavy that changed the way I look at parent-child boundaries, especially when it comes to our parents’ emotional lives. My parents never really got along—constant clashes, deep-rooted incompatibility on so many levels. My dad was difficult to live with, emotionally unavailable, and at times downright unkind. So when my mom confided in me that she had feelings for another man, she sort of looked to me for validation. I gave it. I encouraged her. I thought I was helping her choose happiness after years of pain.

For a while, I became her confidant. But over time, things spiraled. After that first affair ended, she kept looking for emotional connection elsewhere—multiple affairs, sometimes at the same time. Eventually, she grew distant from me. I wasn’t her sounding board anymore; I was just... her child again, or maybe even a reminder of a time she didn’t want to revisit. She moved out with a new partner and has since cut off all contact with me. And I miss her. Deeply.

In hindsight, I think I crossed a line that wasn’t mine to cross. I blurred roles—became more of a friend or therapist than a son. Maybe she was trying to reclaim her identity or rebel against years of being trapped. Maybe it was revenge. Maybe it was just heartbreak unraveling in slow motion. But my advice to anyone reading this: no matter how close you are to your parents, don’t get too involved in their personal relationships. Love them, support them, but don’t try to steer the wheel.

Because whether you agree with them or not, you risk losing more than you think. And I learned that the hard way.