Everyone always asks me why I hate my mom so much, or why we don’t have a close relationship. They say she’s such a nice woman and everyone loves her. But they don’t know her like I do. They don’t understand how I feel. They don’t see her the way I see her.
My mom and I are not two people you would want to leave alone together to talk about things because we will burn down the building with our words. We cannot talk, gossip, laugh, hug, kiss, nothing. I can’t show any love to her nor tell her I love her. Sometimes I wish we did have that close relationship. I look at all these girls who’s bestfriends are their moms, for example even, my sister. I live with them, so I see them get along so well, sometimes I wish that was me and my mom. I know it’s not that way. I pushed her away. It’s pretty much my fault, but I only did it to protect myself from getting hurt.
My mom always wanted me to become this perfect child. Religious, good grades, little angel from Heaven, she wanted the whole package. But she was never going to get that. She controlled my life. I couldn’t do one thing without her judging me, judging my decisions, everything. She always expected more and better from me, but I always tried the best I could you know. I’m not going to blame all this on just her because I have to admit that even I fucked up. I’m a teenager and we all fuck up these relationships, especially with our moms. I was going through that puberty stage, so I obviously thought that supposedly no one understood what I was going through or what I felt, that all my problems were more important than everything else, and I was terrible. Not as terrible as my sister though. I just couldn’t understand what my mom was trying to make of me. She is not my potter, she is not the one in control of what I am being shaped into. I will not be her perfect, or what she thinks perfect is.
I can estimate that she’s slapped me probably three or four times in my lifetime. She’s called me names that put me down. I caught her having an affair. Not to the point where they were doing “it” or kissing and stuff, they just texted each other and talked… She denied it all in my face, thinking I was stupid to believe her. Of course I am not stupid. I am an honors student, with a really high reading lexile and a 3.75 GPA. I read the texts and I knew how to interpret and analyze them. She was talking to another man. That was the day I lost full respect. Then, my parents were so close to getting divorced, and that’s when I broke away from everyone and everything. I went to church obviously, but I was forced. I came up with this thought that, if I want my religious life to dedicated and perfect that should be my choice. I can choose when I want to go to church, what activities I want to participate in, whether or not I want to go to a specific retreat, or when I should even go to confession. I shouldn’t be forced to believe something that I don’t even know if want to believe in. Not that I don’t, because I do believe everything Catholics do. I’m just saying that she shouldn’t force me to be this person that I am not. She won’t be around to tell me all my life that I have to go to church or school. If I want to mess up that’s my choice. I can choose whether or not my family will be continuously going to church or not., I just hate that my mom wants to be this person that I don’t want to be.
This is why I never tell her anything or keep a connection going with her because I can’t say something without her ruining my moment and making me feel terrible. I can’t wear an outfit with out her giving her opinion, if I feel confident in an outfit than let me be! If you don’t like it, then I’m sorry but that’s your problem. This is my style and I do what I want. This is another reason I am so insecure. Does anyone want to knock some sense into my mom or something?
I am not going to no retreat next week, nor am I going to help collect cans. I am fine the way I am and DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM! My therapist clearly told you that nothing is wrong with me. You’re just making yourself think that by repeating it to me everyday. Sooner or later, you’ll have me convinced that there is something wrong with me, and something bad will happen. And it won’t be my fault.