I don't know how it works in other families, but I have a massive problem: I can't find any common ground with my own mother. We fight constantly; there's just no connection at all. I don't even know how it got to the point where she doesn't just annoy me—I feel like I can't even breathe the same air as her. More than anything in the world, I want to move out and never see her again. Never.
Whenever I'm in the same room as her, my mood instantly tanks. I don't know what it is. People say all your problems stem from childhood, and in this case, it's actually true.
***
I remember the resentment starting when I was little. Her life didn't exactly turn out the way she planned. She met my father while he was still married, and she was always just the mistress. When she got pregnant, my dad bought her a condo and made sure she was financially set. Thanks to him, we never wanted for anything. That went on for a few years until they eventually split up.
I rarely saw my dad growing up—maybe once a month, sometimes every two months. And it wasn't because he didn't want to see me; it was her. I haven't seen my dad in several years now. My whole life, my parents just trashed each other, and I was caught in the middle, expected to pick a side. What kind of kid can handle that?
My dad would show up to see me—and her—with bags full of groceries and treats. Instead of saying thank you, my mom would just start hurling insults at him. I don't know why, but it became burned into my brain that she was the "bad guy." I think that's exactly when my feelings toward her turned sour.
***
I spent my entire childhood with my grandma, while my mother would only drift in and out. When she was home, she never cared about what was going on with me. She dumped me on my grandparents every chance she got. As far back as I can remember, Grandma was the one who raised me.
Then tragedy struck—Grandma passed away. I was only twelve. For me, the world just stopped. I had to go live with my mother, and those were the worst years of my life. She never asked about my problems. No matter what happened to me, she couldn't have cared less. I honestly got the impression she regretted having me and wished she'd had an abortion. Though, without me, she wouldn't have been able to milk my father for money. She wouldn't have had her own place; she'd still be living with her parents.
If I ever tried to find some comfort or talk to her, she'd immediately snap that it was "nonsense" and refused to listen. I grew up as a pretty quiet kid and didn't cause trouble. I realized early on that I had no one to rely on. My whole life, I tried to please her. While my classmates were going to the movies or out to parties, I had to stay home and scrub the house. She'd lock me in so I could clean while she was out God-knows-where. I never had any friends; she wouldn't let me. Besides, who'd want to be friends with a girl whose mother is a total psycho? Then she'd come home and put on these massive "performances," screaming at me if a single thing wasn't to her liking.
***
After I graduated high school, I had to get a job immediately. She told me I had to support her. She treated me like I was a grown man, a provider. I never heard a single kind word—only constant criticism. As I got older, I started trying to say "no" to some of her demands. The things she said to me then... it's impossible to even repeat how nasty she was.
My mother's behavior just became appalling. Sometimes I felt like we had swapped roles and I was the parent. Then something truly horrific happened. She seduced some kid—he was barely legal—and ended up pregnant. Obviously, she had no intention of having the baby, so she dragged me along to the clinic with her for the abortion. When I asked her when she was going to start taking responsibility for her own actions, she just laughed in my face.
Now you can see why I feel the way I do. She thinks she's a superstar and that the whole world revolves around her. It's like I'm not allowed to have problems of my own. I can't even have a normal conversation with her; she acts like a temperamental teenager. If I try to talk sense to her, she starts blaming me for everything under the sun. She tells me I'm "just like my father," that I'm just as much of an idiot. How are you supposed to talk to a person like that?
I'm trying to change how I feel about her, but so far, I'm failing. Her voice is constantly in my head, saying awful things to me. I know it shouldn't be this way—you're not supposed to hate your own mother. But for now, I can't change it.
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