Somewhere along the way, parenting morphed from “raise them, love them, and send them into the world” to “keep them tethered to your soul like an emotional umbilical cord until one of you dies.”
This overparenting epidemic—fueled by guilt, competition, and a fear of aging and irrelevance—has led many to confuse love with control, slowly consuming their children’s autonomy, one guilt trip at a time.
In psychoanalysis, this is called “maternal enmeshment,” but it’s long been known by a more evocative name: the “devouring mother.” She’s the mom who can’t let go, who treats independence as betrayal, who sees her child not as a person, but as an extension of herself.
An emotionally hungry mother can become a devouring force, cloaking her unmet needs in the language of care. Carl Jung called this the shadow side of the “Great Mother” archetype—not the nurturing force, but the all-consuming presence who dreads her child’s independence because it signals her own irrelevance.
Rather than raising resilient individuals, this type of parent fosters guilt, obligation, and emotional paralysis. Her message isn’t “Go forth and thrive,” but “I sacrificed everything for you; therefore, you owe me.” Criticisms of friends or partners who “take you away” are common, couched as concern but driven by fear.
This mother’s mindset frames the world as unsafe. Every challenge the child faces becomes proof that disobedience leads to punishment. Guilt is a common weapon of choice: Every win is traced back to the mother’s sacrifice. If the child doesn’t credit her, they’re “ungrateful,” “selfish,” or “bad.”
Another tactic is triangulation—sowing discord between the child and others, then stepping in as savior. She inserts herself into friendships, relationships, even workplace dynamics, ensuring all roads lead back to her.
Modern helicopter parenting has added a new layer. Overbooking kids with activities becomes a status symbol, a way to signal elite parenting. The child is not an individual but an accessory—proof of the parent’s tireless involvement. From PTA meetings to curated Instagram moments, this style of parenting is as much about public image as it is about the child’s needs.
But the effects are measurable—and troubling. A 2020 study in The Journal of Pediatrics found that children of over-involved parents had higher anxiety and lower self-confidence. A 2014 study by Schiffrin and Liss showed college students with helicopter parents were more depressed and less satisfied with life. The long-running Harvard Grant Study (2015) revealed that children raised with real responsibilities—not constant hand-holding—grew into more successful, well-adjusted adults.
Translation? The kids who made their own sandwiches and figured out math homework are out there thriving. The ones whose parents micromanaged every decision are in therapy, terrified to make a phone call.
If you’ve been enmeshed, the first step to healing is this: You don’t owe your mother your soul. Love isn’t submission, and guilt isn’t proof you’re a good child—it’s evidence you’ve been trained to feel bad for having boundaries.
To the mothers tempted by this path: Trust builds stronger children than control ever could.
And to the children struggling to separate: Your mother can survive your independence. In fact, it might remind her that she once knew how to be happy without you. spt
