Mother

**This may be a trigger for some people. It’s also going to be all over the place.

My mom and I have a very different relationship. One that I love but more often than not, I hate.

My mom is very selfish and stubborn. If it’s not her way or if you don’t agree with what she thinks, you’re the enemy. Even if you’re her daughter. Growing up with her was difficult. I knew she worked hard, I knew she struggled to provide for us. I still remember the nights she held me and cried because she was at a lost about what to do next.

So from an early age, I learned to just accept whatever she said or did. Her happiness, was the most important. I had to be good on my own so that she would have less to worry about. I had to take care of myself so that she didn’t have to once she got home from work. I had to be strong and endure everything for her sake.

Somewhere along the way a distance grew between us. We didn’t need or want each other yet still played the role of mother and daughter. Sometimes who the mother and who the daughter was unclear. There now exist this indifference toward her within me. There’s just this need to get away from her after acknowledging how toxic our relationship was, especially once I realized how little I mean to her or how easily she could throw me away. Just like my father. So despite the indifference, fear grew.

Fear that I would lose the only parent I had left that was present in my life. I tried so hard to make her happy. I always tired so hard to do everything that was expected of me and I cared so little about myself. It was to the point where I convinced myself that it didn’t matter if I didn’t exist. If my own mother didn’t want or need me, why would anyone?

It was all pretenses you see. Just to keep up an image. Some untrue image of our little “family.” Was it like that with all my relationships? Is there just so much history between me and the people in my life? Do they stay with me because of that history? Am I just kept around to step on to boost others? Do I even really matter?

So many questions stayed in the back of my mind. Constantly putting myself down and believing that it everything, everything is because of me. Because that’s what came naturally. That’s the role I had to play in my home. My mom could do no wrong, and therefore, never needed to apologize. She worked hard and had to come home to a useless child. A worthless one that was too prideful and thought only of herself.

So what did I do? I stopped trying to love myself. I stopped trying to be optimistic. I stopped being me. And for years, I wore this mask. To others, I was an obedient child that owed everything to her mother for raising her. Behind closed doors, I was the emotional punching bag for my mom. But it didn’t matter because if I was useful in that, my mom wouldn’t leave me too.

Did you know that one of the things I cannot stand in this world is a fake person? A person that pretends and puts on a facade for others. I hated people like that. I didn’t get along with them. And only recently, I understood why. It hit too close to home. I wore a mask. I pretended I was okay, always pretended like I was okay. That’s what was expected of me you know? I had to be the strong one. I had to be strong enough to take hit after hit. As long as I could keep my mom happy, that was enough.

I was dying inside and nobody noticed. Nobody cared. Nobody ever cared unless I was useless to them. So I had to be useful. Always. Even if it meant allowing people to step all over me and tear me apart to make themselves feel better.

There still so much in me left locked away in my memories. So much shit I haven’t dealt with. Lately, I’ve been trying. I keep preaching about positivity in this new year and making the year a great one. And that’s still true. But there are these moments that trigger me and send me right back to being that child. Hiding in the blankets crying because she was so lonely. The instinct to hide myself is still so strong, to just finally give up. The thought that maybe my mom would be happier if i just wasn’t around anymore. It’s a terrible thought that I get daily. Keeping my head up some days is a lot harder than others. Especially when my mom still hasn’t grown up. Still refusing to take responsibility for her actions, so quick to fault me for everything that happens, and so quick to get angry and pretend like I don’t exist. It’s toxic, disgusting and I’m drowning in it. Financially, I can’t consider moving out yet so wish me luck.