I gaze at my lovely daughter and marvel at how I could ever feel anything but love and admiration for her. My goal is always to be her sanctuary, the person she can confide in completely. Then, I reflect on my relationship with my mother and question where it all went wrong.
So many questions swirl in my mind: Why couldn’t she allow me to be a carefree child, instead of robbing me of my innocence and belittling me with names like “selfish brat” and “bitch,” or even slapping me when I was just 10? Why couldn’t she love and accept me for who I am rather than attempting to control every aspect of my life and snatching away my joy at every turn? It baffles me that she still views me as a child, someone to compete against, rather than a peer. I cannot understand why she doesn’t support and uplift me, but instead chooses to tear me down. Why can’t she simply be my friend now that I’m an adult and a mother? Why is love not enough?
It has taken a significant amount of time, but I have come to terms with the fact that I will never have the relationship I once envisioned with my mother. The ideal mother-daughter bond I see so often displayed on social media is not one we will ever share. We won’t get pedicures together or exchange laughter and stories. I will never hold her hand for reassurance as I welcome new life into this world. In times of despair, I won’t be able to reach out to her for love or support. We will never be each other’s confidants.
Mother-daughter dynamics can be intricate, but the relationship I have with my mother is particularly convoluted. After her divorce from my father, she seemed to become increasingly angry and resentful, viewing me as a threat instead of her child. It’s bewildering for a young girl to feel that her own mother sees her as an adversary.
Our relationship has had its ups and downs over the years, and I’ve spent years in therapy to begin forgiving her for her mistakes. I’ve recognized that while she is my mother, she is also a flawed human being. Understanding her brokenness and her troubled past was crucial in my healing journey. Although her behavior didn’t change, my perspective did.
I learned to embrace the good moments and overlook her controlling tendencies, unsolicited advice, and negative critiques. I refused to let her define my self-worth any longer. I thought I had escaped her torment, but then I became a mother, and all her dysfunctional traits resurfaced.
The challenges began almost immediately after the birth of my son five years ago. She was determined to control how I raised him, insisting on how he should sleep, eat, and be cared for. When I gently declined her advice, she would push harder or criticize me. I felt utterly helpless.
Recovering from major surgery, I couldn’t even trust my mother to honor my wishes regarding my child. A grandmother should ease the burden of new motherhood, but she did the opposite.
The breaking point came when she told my mother-in-law that I was a horrible person and that “[i]t was only a matter of time before her son realized it and left me.” I asked her to leave my house, and the hurt I felt in that moment was indescribable. Memories of childhood abuse rushed back. I felt paralyzed. She had broken me, and it was clear she didn’t care.
After she left, she spun the narrative to our family, claiming I had kicked her out for no reason, suggesting I had psychological issues, and accusing my husband and me of neglecting our child. The lies were relentless.
My mother has a pattern: she acts out, avoids accountability, spins the situation, and then tries to reconcile without genuine apologies. She once told me that she acted out of jealousy over how my husband supported me, as no one had helped her when she was a new mom. How sad and disturbing is that? Being an empathetic person, I welcomed her back into my life, only to have the cycle repeat itself.
I could list countless actions she has taken to undermine my family and my spirit, but it no longer matters. Things have gone too far, and change is necessary. She must change.
Realizing that I am not the problem has been liberating. Accepting that the relationship I have with my mother will never be what I hoped for has lifted a heavy burden. For too long, I felt enslaved by her harsh words and abusive behavior. It’s difficult not to internalize the criticism from your mother, the one person who is supposed to be your biggest supporter. Unfortunately, that is not always the case.
Despite the pain she has caused, I am grateful for the lessons she has taught me about the kind of mother I aspire to be. In moments of frustration, I remind myself to consider the impact of my words and actions on my children. My tumultuous upbringing has given me a level of self-awareness that I cherish. While I cannot change the abuse I endured, I will not subject my children to even a fraction of what I went through. The cycle ends here.
We have a choice: remain on the hamster wheel or step off and break the cycle. I have chosen the latter. This decision does not diminish my love for my mother or my willingness to forgive her; it simply means she cannot be part of my family until she confronts her issues and makes necessary changes.
Admitting you can’t have a relationship with someone so integral to your life can be disheartening, but prioritizing your well-being and that of your family is essential. As a parent, the rest becomes irrelevant.
Looking at my precious daughter fills my heart with pride. She is innocent and perfect, and I’m grateful to be her mother. I will always prioritize her needs and provide the unconditional love I lacked as a child. My role is to be her sanctuary and protector. Our children are a gift that demands our safeguarding—that is the essence of parenting.
In summary, while I may be estranged from my mother, I am committed to creating a nurturing environment for my children, preventing the cycle of dysfunction from continuing. Understanding the past has enabled me to break free and choose a healthier path for my family.