Chapter One – Why I Hate My Mother


I’m sure the vulgar title will grab some attention…. I didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it’s how I truly feel, unfortunately. 

Mothers are commonly known to be nurturing, maternal and trustworthy. They are supposed to be an important figure in every person’s life, right? Well what if you never had a mother who displayed those three traits in the whole entirety of knowing her? That’s how it is for me. And I wish it were different. 

All my life, my mum has been the worst person I could have possibly been around. Being in her bitter and negative embrace day after day has without a doubt effected me both psychologically and mentally. 

I will admit, as a child I wasn’t exactly easy going. In fact, I was a very badly behaved kid. I would scream, I would throw tantrums, I would be stubborn, I would just be a real pain in the ass, but that’s what kids are like, right? During my early years from what I can remember (5-10) I would be at home a lot with my mum while my dad was out working. My dad was usually the one who did the telling off and unbearable spanking when needed (which was all the time.) So being alone with my mum, I somewhat took advantage of this. I knew would have more free reign to be a little bitch (not on purpose, though). But I knew that if I got mad, I could throw a tantrum without dealing with the consequences (until my dad got home, though.) 

So to put things bluntly, here’s how my hatred for my mother grew during my early years:

– When I would have an argument with one of my sisters, I was the one who got told off, even though it was clear that 9 times out of 10 my sister was the culprit. But my mum, being the lazy parent she is, told me off for it instead (my sister would throw worse tantrums). So my mum chose the easy way out (put the blame on me).

– Multiple times she threatened to have CPS take me away and that she would put me in foster care.

– She would often be racist, offensive and downright rude in front of me and my sisters.

– When I got too much to handle some days, she pulled the “wait until your dad gets home” card. This made me lose respect for her as a parent even more because it was apparent to me that she couldn’t handle me on her own and I viewed her as a weak figure.

– She never did things with me. Never took me to places, never talked to me about anything, showed no interest in showing up to my parents evening at school (my dad had to end up dragging her along). 

– Watching the way she allowed my eldest sister get away with all kinds of shit. Example: Letting a male stripper perform at her 16th birthday (while me and my little sisters watched), let her date a 21-25 year old when she was only 15 etc. I could go on. 

– She projected her anxiety disorder onto me. As I mentioned in my previous post, I have an anxiety disorder. She would have panic attacks in front of me, she would get stressy, angry, negative etc. And of course I ended up imitating her actions subconsciously. 

– She would barely hug me or show any signs of affection. Never gave me compliments, never showed any interest in my life etc.

So that’s just some of the things. Many more tales to tell but I’ll leave it at that for now. 

To this day, we never talk to each other (even though we live under the same roof.) I try my best to make conversation, but she’s too busy on her phone and she just mumbles. It just baffles me how a mother could have no interest in their child’s life whatsoever. Sometimes when I’m in my hours of darkness, I’ll wonder why she never had an abortion…

You may think I’m being too harsh, or too vengeful but the truth is, is that I can really see my feelings for her so clearly now. I’m not some teenager, I’m a fully grown adult who has finally comes to terms with my true feelings towards my mother. All your life you’re told that you should always love your family, but that’s not true. You don’t have too. And it’s okay. 

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