Difficult relationship with mother.
Question for a psychologist:
Hello! I am 26 years old. I am married and have a five-year-old daughter. I have a very difficult relationship with my mother. She gave birth to me at 38 years old. At that time, I was not married to my father, so that if something happened there would be no problems with divorce. She had a difficult divorce process from her first husband. She gave birth to me for herself, because I was already approaching age and my grandmother said that I needed to give birth so as not to be alone in old age. My father cheated on her and they separated before I was born. She did not file for child support and was considered a single mother. I have never seen my father until now. When I was 1.3, my mother went to work and until I was 7.5 I lived with my grandmother in the village. Mom visited us only on weekends. I always cried a lot when she left and waited all week for the next weekend. Mom said that she was renovating the apartment and couldn’t pick me up. When I went to school she picked me up. And from that moment on it was not the best time for me. My mother always put pressure on me for my grades; I scolded me for getting 4s and was dissatisfied; For five with a minus she said that it was possible to get five. She often snapped at me over literally nothing. Already in first grade, I knew how hard it was to kneel on salt. I knew that a narrow belt beats more painfully than a wide one. Having received a bad grade, I simply didn’t want to go home, because I knew what would happen. Then, after six months or a year, my mother began to teach me to wash dishes and clean the apartment. It was terrible. Coming home from work and seeing a clean apartment, she first praised me, but when she found the slightest flaw in the cleaning, she began to say that she had cleaned poorly. Often it came to a scandal. I did the homework myself. My mother didn’t help me, she only checked on me, and then only in elementary school. She often shouted at me. I loved reading several hour-long morals while cleaning or washing dishes, while simultaneously telling me what was wrong with my plate. I said, do it right, as I taught you. At that moment, out of fear, I didn’t know where to go. In the summer I went to my grandmother. There she helped her in the garden and around the house. Sometimes I went out with friends. I didn’t have any friends in the city—I was always studying. And there wasn’t much communication in the class either. I was withdrawn and always felt worse than everyone else. In the seventh grade, my mother said that after school we needed to go to the village to see our grandmother, since she was old and had high blood pressure. Every day after school I went to my grandmother on foot (about 3-4 km), did my homework, returned to the city in the morning and went to school, barely having time to change clothes and eat. Always like this. Mom's dissatisfaction grew with me. Gradually, she began not only to scold me and beat me, but also to insult me with not the best words (cow, beast, creature). Sometimes the words were stronger. In spring and autumn, in addition to studying, I also worked in the garden. And everything had to be combined in time. But I tried my best, I understood that it was hard for my mother and she needed help. In 9th grade, my grandmother died and my life got worse. Mom began to snap at me even more often. She said that now no one will help her and will not regret it. And that I am of no use. I always said that the children help the neighbors more and everyone around is normal, but I’m like who the hell knows. My favorite expression was: “Children are a joy to everyone, but they are disgusting to me,” “I gave birth to you so that there would be at least some help from you, and you...”. Although I helped her a lot, the neighbors always sympathized with me. I always spent all my summer holidays in the village, doing my mother’s tasks around the house and in the garden. She praised me, but only when I did everything perfectly. If I didn’t do something or did something wrong, I received it. Every day when she came home from work, everything inside me began to shrink and some kind of heat passed through my body. I always knew what would happen to me. I didn’t know why, but I knew for sure that it would hit me. We never walked anywhere with her, we were only at home or in the garden. Money was also difficult. I had practically no clothes. It happened that I wore one jacket and one pants for a whole year. She refused alimony on principle. I graduated from school with a medal and entered a prestigious university in another city. Mom was proud of it. I came home rarely, once a month. And only because it was necessary. I never wanted to come home. During the first month of my first year, everyone complained about how bad it was without my mother, but I was just fine. In my second year, I met a guy, my future husband. I only told my mom a year later. She, thank God, took it well. At the end of the 3rd year he proposed to me. At first my mother was against it and said that I needed to finish my studies. But then she still agreed. In my 4th year I became pregnant. The child was planned, not by chance. But I was in no hurry to tell my mother. Then my husband called and told his mother. At his words, my mother started yelling that she should have used condoms and all that. Then she told me how I could not tell her that she was my mother and everything like that. Then she calmed down. When the child was born, the husband was not around. He was forced to leave. My mother did not help me with the child. Even on the first day after the maternity hospital, she went to the village, since she had business there. I didn’t ask for help, I did everything myself. Then my mother made further complaints about why I didn’t come to the village and help her. She said that she would help with the child only if I moved in with her. But it was easier for me to be alone than with her under the same roof. Then my husband and I moved to another country. We called my mother once a week. But every month it became more and more difficult for me to communicate with her once a week; sometimes I didn’t want to communicate at all. When I told her something good about our life, it was noticeable that she did not want to hear it. And when I once complained about difficulties, my mother replied that I had chosen all this myself. I try not to complain to her anymore. Now we correspond on the Internet, sometimes we call each other. But even just writing to me is hard. It takes several days to get ready to write a message. In messages, my mother always writes how bad she feels alone, how unhappy she is. In general, she was dissatisfied with everything in her life, and now I have left her. She doesn't like it, sometimes she even expresses it to me. She says that children always come to other people, but she is alone. I've been thinking about this situation often over the last year. On the one hand I have feelings of hatred towards her, and on the other hand I have feelings of pity and guilt. Recently I wrote to her that it was hard for me to live like this and why she did this to me. She said that she knew that she was a bad mother, and that she would always bear this cross. She asked to forgive her. She even wrote that she would kill herself. I had to calm her down. Now it’s very difficult for me to live and at the same time hate her and blame myself for leaving for another country. I help her financially to the best of my ability. But I don’t want to communicate at all. I don't even like it when she touches me. This all worries me very much. Constant thoughts depress me more and more every day. I don’t know how to cope with this contradiction and take one side. Help me please!
Question author: Victoria Age: 26
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