My problem is somewhat unusual, I think. I don’t love my child. Usually parents who are faced with this are in no hurry to admit it even to themselves. But it doesn’t cost me anything to admit this problem. Yes, I hate my own, adult daughter.
It’s definitely not about her father, she was born when I wanted it. And I understand that she is in no way to blame for our separation. I myself cooled down to him and filed for divorce myself. I am aware of all this.
When she was little, I genuinely cared about her. It seemed to me that it should be so. I am a mother, and she needs me, I have to provide her with a decent future. But gradually, as she grew older, I began to cool down. It was unusual for me to realize this, but I had to accept it. The older she got, the less I loved her.
For a while I continued to take care of her by inertia. But then an accident happened, at the age of three she was almost hit by a car. And I caught myself thinking that I almost felt a sense of relief that she might soon be gone. For me, it was wild in itself, to realize such a thing.
I went into the nursery hoping that she wasn’t breathing. I listened not with fear that this could happen to her, but with the hope that I would finally be rid of her. She grew up as an ordinary child, she did not stand out among others in any way. Not ugly, not stupid, always tried to help me and take care of me.
Relatives are not happy with her, and teachers praise her for her success.
I get scared at the thought that she loves me, and I hate her. I never addressed her affectionately, always only by her first name. Everything about her annoys me, from her voice to the way she dresses. I’m not happy about her success in any way. I can’t wait for her to die sooner, and I could continue to enjoy my life.
Not so long ago, I already described this problem on one forum. As was to be expected, I was not only misunderstood there, but they also did all the worst. I agree, to some extent I deserve all this. But I have no control over my feelings, I just hate her, that’s all.
I’ve never admitted it to her directly, but I think she knows everything. In all my attitude, these feelings are so evident.
I can’t pretend, and I don’t really want to. I’m waiting until she turns eighteen and I can kick her out of my house. In the meantime, I’m just doing all my duties on duty, which I just have to do. I support her, but without much frills, I wash things, take care of her if she gets sick. But it seems to me that as soon as she comes of age and moves out, I won’t remember her with a single kind word.
This is akin to a punishment from above or a prison term. That’s right, I feel like a prisoner in prison. And I’m not even ashamed in front of her. I understand that this is not normal. That it shouldn’t be like this. Eventually, my time will come when I will need help, when I will become old and I will need care. And I wouldn’t even be surprised if she never comes to visit me.
My life is like hell right now, and I do not know how to love my child. And the question is, do I want to…
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