I Let Myself Go. And I Felt Guilty for Every Wonderful Moment of It.

By Sami Ward | Chaos to Calm | 15th June 2026

There are some things that are just hard to admit out loud.

This is one of them.

I have just spent four days in Italy at a family wedding. The kind of trip that exists in golden light and good food, and the particular happiness that comes from watching people you love celebrate something beautiful. The kind of trip I would have dreamed about.

And I went. I actually went. And I let myself enjoy it.

And somewhere in between all of that, I also felt guilty. Sad. Torn. Because she wasn't there. Not because she wasn't invited. But because it was too much. Too overwhelming. Too big a thing for where she is right now.

And that is its own kind of grief, sitting right in the middle of a very beautiful place.

The Events You Grieve Twice

There's something that nobody really prepares you for when your young adult struggles with emotional dysregulation.

It's not just the hard days that carry grief. It's the good ones too.

The weddings. The holidays. The family gatherings. The moments that are supposed to be straightforward and joyful and are, genuinely, for most people in the room. But for you, there's a layer underneath all of it. A quiet awareness of who isn't there, and why. A seat at the table that tells its own story without a single word.

You grieve the event once when you realise she won't be coming. And then you grieve it again when you're actually there, and the happiness and the sadness sit right next to each other, uninvited, refusing to stay in their separate boxes.

Holding Joy and Heartbreak at the Same Time

Here is what I have learned, slowly and not always gracefully, about holding two things at once.

You are allowed to feel both.

You are allowed to laugh until your sides hurt at the reception, and also feel the ache of wishing she were there to see it. You are allowed to raise a glass and mean it, and also have a moment in the bathroom where you sit with the sadness for a minute before going back out.

That is not disloyalty to your child. That is not you failing to appreciate what you have. That is you being a human being who loves someone who is struggling, living your life the best way you can alongside that love.

The joy doesn't cancel out the sadness. The sadness doesn't cancel out the joy. They coexist. And the sooner we stop expecting ourselves to feel only one thing at a time, the easier it becomes to breathe.

The Guilt of Going at All

Can we talk about the guilt for a moment? Because I think it needs saying.

There is a particular kind of guilt that comes from doing something good for yourself when your child is not okay. Something that says you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be enjoying this. What kind of mother goes to Italy when her daughter is struggling?

This kind of mother. This kind, because going doesn't mean not caring. It means choosing, deliberately and with full awareness, to remain a person with a life. Who has a family that loves her. Who has moments of joy that belong to her.

It is not selfish to go. It is not abandonment to go. It is not proof that she doesn't come first.

It is proof that you have finally, painstakingly, started to understand something important. That you cannot give from empty and that your life does not have to stop because hers is hard. That loving her well does not require you to shrink yourself down to nothing.

That guilt you're feeling? That's love. But it doesn't have to be in charge.

Staying Connected Across the Distance

One of the things that helped me was knowing I could still reach her every day. A message. A call. A quick check in that says I'm here, I'm thinking of you, you haven't been forgotten just because I'm somewhere else.

It doesn't have to be long. It doesn't have to fix anything. It just has to be consistent. That thread of connection, however thin, matters more than you might realise. For her, it's a reminder that she is loved even when you're not physically present. For you, it's a way of carrying her with you without letting the worry take over the whole trip.

Daily contact isn't a safety net for guilt. It's a genuine act of love that works across any distance.

What I Brought Home With Me

I came home from Italy with a suitcase and a suntan and something harder to name.

A reminder, maybe. That beauty still exists. That life has good things in it. That I am allowed to be part of those good things even while I'm also carrying the harder ones.

And a renewed sense of why this matters. Why filling your own cup matters. Allowing yourself to rest and laugh and celebrate isn't a luxury; it's what keeps you going when the hard days come back around, as they always do.

She will have her own beautiful moments. I have to believe that. They might look different to the ones I pictured. They might come later than I hoped. But they're not gone.

And in the meantime, I'm allowed to have mine.

Something to sit with this week: Is there something you've been putting off, turning down, or talking yourself out of because of guilt? What would it mean to say yes to it anyway?

Your calm in the chaos,

Sami 💙⚓

Frequently Asked Questions

Why do I feel guilty for enjoying myself when my child is struggling?

Guilt is one of the most common experiences for parents of young adults with emotional dysregulation. It often comes from a deep sense of responsibility and love, a feeling that enjoyment is somehow disloyal when your child is having a hard time. But enjoying your life doesn't mean you care less. It means you're still a whole person alongside being a parent, and that is not something to be ashamed of.

Is it okay to go on holiday or attend events when your young adult is struggling?

Yes, and it's important. Stepping away, even briefly, is not abandonment. It's a necessary part of sustaining yourself for the long journey of supporting someone you love. Having other people and support structures in place, and staying connected in small, consistent ways, means your child is not left without a safety net while you're gone.

How do I stop the guilt from ruining good experiences?

Start by naming it rather than fighting it. Guilt tends to get louder when we try to push it away. Acknowledging it, understanding where it comes from, and reminding yourself that you are allowed to feel joy, doesn't make it disappear but it does make it easier to carry alongside the good things rather than letting it swallow them.

What does it mean to hold grief and joy at the same time?

It means allowing yourself to feel two things at once without expecting one to cancel out the other. You can laugh at a wedding and also ache for the person who isn't there. You can enjoy a beautiful moment and also feel sadness underneath it. That is not contradiction. That is love in its most honest, complicated form.

How do I stay connected with my young adult when I'm away?

Little and often works better than long, intense check ins. A short daily message or call that is warm and consistent, without putting pressure on either of you, keeps the thread of connection alive across any distance. It reassures them they haven't been forgotten and reassures you that you're still present in their life even when you're not physically there.

Can parents of young adults with emotional dysregulation ever fully switch off and relax?

Fully switching off may not always be realistic, and that's okay to acknowledge. But giving yourself permission to be present in the moment, to enjoy where you are, to let yourself rest, even if a part of you is still holding awareness of home, is something worth practising. The goal isn't to stop caring. It's to stop letting the caring consume every moment of your life.

How do I deal with the sadness of my child missing out on family events?

That sadness is real and it deserves to be acknowledged rather than pushed down. Letting yourself feel it, even briefly, in the middle of an otherwise happy occasion, is not weakness. It's love. Over time, many parents find it helps to hold onto the belief that their child will have their own moments of joy, even if they look different or come later than expected. You don't have to pretend it doesn't hurt. You just don't have to let it take the whole day either.