Hi! I wanted to share what’s been on my mind about my mother. I’m 19F, she is 57, and I’m the youngest of four children.
During high school, especially from ages 13–16, I became more aware that my mum’s behaviour was abusive. Mother-daughter relationships feel complicated because we’re taught that maternal love is unconditional. I constantly dismissed my feelings with thoughts like, “But she’s my mother” or “She had a bad childhood,” especially because my parents are immigrants. As the youngest and a people pleaser, I struggled to express how I felt.
Through research and talking to close friends, I came to believe my mother has strong narcissistic traits. She sees herself as the victim, avoids accountability, and responds to criticism with defensiveness or rage. During outbursts, she yells, swears, insults us, and can become physically aggressive. She then tells her family that she was the one who was wronged. Her family also has a long history of abuse; she is one of 13 siblings.
Last December, my oldest sister confronted her after she threatened to kick out my other sister, who had recently had a baby. She told our mother she needed professional help. My mother contradicted herself, saying nothing was wrong with her while also blaming a childhood head injury for her behaviour. She said that if we didn’t want her angry, we should stop doing things that make her angry, even though her reactions are unpredictable. Eventually, she admitted she would rather continue suffering and drag us down than seek help because she genuinely believes she is not the problem.
I’ve accepted that she may never change. I’m emotionally detached from her, although still living under her roof is draining. I’m comfortable with the distance, but not with what it means. It feels like a slap in the face to the younger versions of me who hoped she would become different. I also feel robbed of the future possibility of having a supportive mother if I ever have children. Even becoming a grandmother has not changed her.
After each outburst, she acts normal again until the next one. It feels like a constant cycle of pretending, rage, disappointment, and thinking, “I’m not surprised.” I know better than to expect change, but part of me still grieves the mother I wish I had.
Outside of this, I try to romanticise my life and enjoy time with my friends. Thank you for reading.
