Recently I read about this fascinating figure from ancient history, Pyrrhus of Epirus. He was a Greek general and king, admired for his military brilliance and bold strategy. But what struck me most wasn’t his victories. It was the cost of them. After one particularly brutal battle against the Romans, Pyrrhus reportedly said, “If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined.”
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I was surprised about being victorious in the battle yet ruined if he chose to pursue the battle. How often do we, especially in our closest relationships, pursue something so intensely – being right, being heard, being needed – that we end up winning the battle but damaging the bond?
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It made me think about mothers and daughters. How easily we get pulled into the emotional back-and-forth, each of us trying to protect our vulnerable side. And how powerful it can be. Not to rush in, not to fix. Not to prove.
But to Pause.
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This blog is about what happens when we resist the impulse to react and instead learn from a general whose greatest lesson was not in how he fought but in what it cost him.
What Pyrrhus Can Teach Us About Mother-Daughter Struggles
In the 3rd century BCE, there was a king named Pyrrhus of Epirus, one of the most ambitious and strategic military leaders of his time. He was a cousin of Alexander the Great, which kind of sets the tone for the level of greatness he was aiming for.
Pyrrhus made a name for himself with daring battles against Rome and other powerful kingdoms. But oddly, he’s not remembered for his victories. He’s remembered for how much those victories ended up costing him. After a particularly brutal battle against the Romans, Pyrrhus is said to have remarked, “If we are victorious in one more battle with the Romans, we shall be utterly ruined.”
From that event came the term “Pyrrhic victory”. A win so costly that it feels more like a loss.
It’s easy to imagine Pyrrhus standing on the blood-soaked field, triumphant but hollow-eyed, realising the devastation of his need to press forward, to gain, to conquer. He won, but at what cost?
This story might seem pretty far from those everyday moments, like a chat on the couch or a phone call between a mother and her adult daughter. But the emotions running underneath can be just as heavy. That urge to be “right” or to “fix things” can leave both of them feeling worn out, hurt, and more disconnected than ever.
The Urge to Rush In
From the moment her daughter was born, a mother has been her daughter’s guide. Feeding, nurturing, instructing, as well as dreaming of her future. The instinct to advise, step in, or solve problems can feel almost automatic. It comes from deep love and years of habit. Letting go, ‘cutting the cord’, isn’t easy when so much of her identity has been tied to raising the child she once held in her arms. Many mothers still feel a strong sense of responsibility to protect and guide, even when their daughter is grown.
But when that instinct isn’t tempered by pause and reflection, it can become invasive. It can smother rather than support.
Adult daughters, too, may want to assert independence quickly, to prove something, or to defend against perceived control. They may enter into conversations prepared for battle, ready to draw rigid boundaries or push away to protect their growing sense of self.
In both cases, the desire to do something, can become a form of self-protection. But like Pyrrhus, we may find ourselves winning an argument or gaining temporary control, only to realise we’ve weakened the relationship in the process.
What Is Gained by Waiting
Pyrrhus’s flaw was not his courage or intelligence. It was his inability to wait, to think long-term, to pause before the next campaign. He was drawn into battles by ambition, flattery, and the lure of power. And don’t we, too, do something similar in our own lives? We get pulled into emotional battles, not with armies but with the people we care about. Sometimes it’s the need to feel needed. Or to be right. Or the fear of being rejected. The hurt that comes from not being heard or feeling misunderstood. Those emotional undercurrents can be just as powerful, and just as costly, as any external conflict.
Waiting doesn’t mean you don’t care. Pausing doesn’t mean you’re giving up. It just means you’re making space to breathe, to think, to ask better questions:
- Why am I really pushing this issue right now?
- Am I acting out of fear or love?
- Is this the moment for action? Or the moment for listening?
In mother-daughter relationships, especially as daughters grow into adulthood, there’s a shift that needs to happen. The old patterns have to evolve. The mother must step back and let her daughter make her own choices, even the messy ones. And the daughter must begin to see her mother as a person, not just a parent.
Winning at All Costs?
One of Pyrrhus’s defining traits was his refusal to settle. After winning a hard-fought battle, instead of taking time to strengthen what he’s gained, he rushed off to the next challenge. The next conquest. The next mountain to climb.
In mother-daughter dynamics, this same energy can show up when one person insists on being right, on having the last word, or on “winning” the interaction, whether that’s through guilt, overexplaining, emotional withdrawal, or being overly direct in a way that shuts the other person down instead of opening things up. Different tactics, same need to come out on top.
But “winning” in this way leads to emotional distance. The victory might feel satisfying for a moment, “She finally listened to me” or “I stood my ground”, but at what cost? Is the bond stronger, or has another thread been frayed?
Poet and author Diego Perez, known as Yung Pueblo, wrote that prioritising ‘winning’ arguments damages relationships by creating resentment and distance. Instead, he encourages understanding others’ perspectives to dissolve tension and build trust. He emphasised the importance of active listening and being present in conversations, where we can appreciate different viewpoints before sharing our own. This fosters a deeper connection.
Small Acts of Pause
Pausing doesn’t need to be dramatic. It can be as simple as:
- Waiting a day to respond to a triggering text.
- Saying, “Let me think about that,” instead of rushing into advice.
- Choosing silence over attack.
- Asking, “Can we revisit this later?” instead of pushing through tension.
In these small moments, space is created. And in that space, understanding can grow. Emotion can settle. What seemed urgent may feel less so. What felt threatening may soften.
I can’t stress enough – hit the Pause. When mothers and daughters breathe and pause, it changes the dynamic. Your relationship will be on the way to being repaired when Pause happens.
From Reaction to Reflection
If Pyrrhus had paused before charging into another battle, he might have seen the bigger picture. His limited resources, the toll on his army, the fleeting nature of victory. Likewise, when mothers and daughters choose reflection over reaction, they open themselves to long-term repair instead of short-term satisfaction.
Reflection might look like a mother realising, “She doesn’t need my help here. She needs to know I trust her.” Or a daughter thinking, “She’s not trying to control me. She doesn’t want to lose our connection.”
It’s in the waiting that these truths emerge.
A Better Kind of Victory
There’s a different kind of triumph available in the mother-daughter relationship. Not the kind where one person is right and the other concedes, but the kind where each person walks away feeling seen, respected, and safe.
This kind of victory is quieter. It may take longer. It might even feel like nothing happened at all, just a moment of stillness, a choice not to push. But over time, those choices build trust. They rebuild relationships fractured by years of tension. They offer both women the gift of presence over performance.
Pyrrhus of Epirus teaches us what happens when we value the next move more than the whole journey. In our relationships, especially those as complex as the mother-adult daughter bond, we can learn from his legacy, not by charging forward but by learning when not to.
Victory doesn’t always look like a decisive blow. Sometimes, it looks like taking a breath.
Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is wait.
Image: Janice Williams
Janice Williams is the only Certified Mother-Daughter Relationship Specialist in Australia and the South Pacific region.
Sessions are available across Australia and worldwide.