I Hate My Mother...

This is my story. I HATE my mother. I understand every single post that has been made here. At least now I know I am not alone. I would like to be in the category of people who highly regard and love their mother; but, she has not allowed that in me. I am the middle child, with an older brother, and a younger brother. My mother has been showing me with her actions my entire life that she has very little regard for me. I have known since before I could speak. So, I thought it was me, so I spent my entire life up until two years ago trying to gain her love and approval. I am fifty years old. I was valedictorian in school. Graduated first in my class in college, and was the student speaker. In addition, I was a “good girl”, my nickname in high school was “strait laced”. I never felt I had the luxury of veering into anything negative because my mother already hated me. I feared what would happen if I weren’t perfect. However, nothing I have ever achieved brought any love from her.

She did not physically harm me, she never even spanked me, not even once. She never shouted at me or said anything abusive to me. Yet, the odd thing was, I never saw it as a flaw in her, only that I was a bad person, a horrible human being, a total loser.

She kicked me out of the house two weeks after my high school graduation. I put myself through college. My parents moved to a state, more that a thousand miles away right after they threw me out. I did not see them for more than five years, and did not hear from them but a couple times. So I felt like an orphan. I was embarrassed, and ashamed that I came from parents that were like this. After they came back to this state, I reached out to her, but she told me to leave her alone. It wasn’t until my older son was around nine years old that I tried to contact my parents again after that. I was in my mid thirties at this point. An orphan since I was thrown out at 18. I married after college, and had two children. They are 24 and 22 now. Two boys.

I have spent my entire life alone, blaming myself for being born. I actually thought I was going crazy. There was evidence along the way, but I had a difficult time believing that what I knew about her feelings toward me was right. I thought I was imagining that she hated me. My father was an alcoholic, a very abusive one at that. Also, he molested me most of my life. He threatened my life, so I did not know how to escape the abuse. And I was afraid to tell my mom, because I knew she hated me. But, when I was twelve, I told her about the abuse….hoping against hope that she would protect and save me. The exact opposite happened, she then started to pretend I did not exist, and tried to hurt me in every way possible, in covert ways. She is a pathological liar and a manipulative narcissist. She is the most selfish, self absorbed, horrible human being I have ever known. I tried to kill myself the first time at eight years old. I could not deal with my father molesting me and threatening to kill me. I took an entire bottle of aspirins, folks, I did not die. I was so angry the next day. I told no one, no one. From that point on, I had a pathological need to die. I have been battling that feeling my entire life. It was at one point in my thirties, that I made a promise to myself, that I would never carry out suicide. The other day, I saw on the news, a new study in Canada, I believe, they discovered that severely abused children, such as in being molested, actually changes the child’s genes toward suicide. That was the best news I ever heard. I fully believe my body is programmed for suicide, but I can overcome that by my conscious decision to be happy and live joyous in my life.

My mother quit trying to pretend two years ago that she tolerated me. She told me she had always hated me, and when she found out she was pregnant with me, she wanted me to die. I think that pretty much explains why I always felt like I was hated. Just a note, she did not feel this way towards my brothers, she openly loved them and lavished attention and things on them. Once she told me this, out of the blue one day…at first it devastated me, I cried straight for three days, and did not go to work. Then I began a year of accepting that my reality all along was what I knew, but did not want to accept. That was hard to accept, it was easier all those years just thinking I WAS the horrible one, even though I did not know why.

This is my story, I am still struggling to have the desire to live. I can say, I have never gone down a negative path of drugs, alcohol, nor have I ever been self destructive. Not that I haven’t wanted to at times, but then I would feel that she won. And that is all that it would take for me not to survive.

Thank you for giving me this opportunity to share some of my story. And yes, there are women who have children, who have no intention of loving or protecting them. And yes, eventually, the feelings of hate come from that negligence and abuse. It feels good to say today, that it never was me….my mom just did not want or love me…just because I was not convenient. But God loves me, and that is enough for me, even though I would have wanted to be loved by my parents. Both my brothers are alcoholics and drug addicts, and she continues to love and lavish attention on them.

Thanks.

Godschild0214 Godschild0214
46-50, F
5 Responses Mar 15, 2009

your mother sounds like a horrible person<br />
some people are just horrible and thats that<br />
<br />
I spent years trying to find out what was wrong with me so that I could fix it and stop my mother being such a *****<br />
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a weight lifted off me when I realised she was horrible and I hated her and that was rational and that was the reality - a sad reality - but I felt much more clear when I could admit that I had been very unlucky having a mother that was poisonous<br />
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I was so scared of her growing up that it made me gay and now I live alone<br />
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you have your family so you should be proud - I feel I allowed my mother to poison even the chance of a family of my own

I understand so well. I've always struggled with my mother's lack of love for me, but recently she did something so terrible that I've severed contact with her. I feel as if I'm grieving my mother's death, and in a way I am. Like you, I will never have a mother who loves me. Be strong.

Well, you've made your own loving family. I have a good husband and great in-laws and I think that's my real family - the family I chose and that chose me. My mother (and father) were just a cruel accident of fate.<br />
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You're smart and analytical and it sounds like you sorted it all out for yourself and are doing a great job of being your own therapist. <br />
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You're tough, too. I really admire that, the way you avoided suicide and drug abuse. I wish I was as strong as you. Rock on.

Thank you Elaine for commenting on my experience. The day I wrote that I had just come from a close relative's funeral and I had to drive back to my hometown to attend the funeral. I had called my mother to tell her I was coming and she hung up on me. It intensified the grief. Not only that, my oldest son rode with me to the funeral, he did not know the relative, he has seen my parents only a couple times, and none of the relatives. Thank God he was with me. He helped me get through the pain of yet again her rejection. I only learned of my dear cousin's death by accident, my parents have never thought to call and let me know of any relative dying. My mother even told me she had instructed my dad, to not let me know when she dies. Imagine, you expect to be hurt by people who don't know or love you, but to be tortured your entire life by you own mother, is almost unbearable. You know how they say you have a total life review when you die, and you feel all the feelings of everyone's life in which you crossed paths, I hope she feels every feeling she caused me to experience due to her torture of me. Honestly, I do not even care anymore. And that hurts. It is a huge void, nothing can fill it. Had it not been for God, and my Christian faith, I would never have experienced any joy. <br />
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I no longer want a mother to love me; isn't that sad. I could not fathom what it would feel like, it might be too much to even bear. I feel like an alien in the world, when it seems everyone is connected to some type of family, I have never had that...and I feel different.

Godschild,<br />
Children always know when they are not loved. Like you I spent many years trying to get my mother to love me the way I needed it. I never succeeded. I did come to terms of having boundaries with her that she was not allowed to cross. She hated that. Eventually, I was able to forgive her for the abuse,verbal. It was important to go forward and leave the past behind. At her funeral, I cried the most, still wanting a mother to love me.<br />
Now, God loves me more than she could ever. You're right, God loves you immensely and can fill in the empty spots.<br />
<br />
elaine