Why I Hate My Mother

A small theory from my life.

Why I Hate My Mother

Why I hate my mother: a theory

When you hate someone, you normally can think of a specific thing they have done, or a moment in time when you were betrayed, when your heart was broken, or when something you love broke by someone else’s hand. You can pinpoint when something changed. But, there’s also the kind of hate that takes years, in a romantic relationship or a friendship where things slowly shift, and when you think back, you don’t know what went wrong, or you start to think of all the tiny things you never noticed but never really cared about when it was there.

Well this time, it’s a different story. It’s no friend, no boyfriend—it’s someone who, when you say you hate, everyone thinks you are a teenager and going through a phase. They think you’re just moody, and that they are probably great because you’re a regular teenager. But again, this is a different story. I hate my mother. Not because she didn’t buy me an Xbox, and not because she forgot to get better food—but because she’s actually abusive.

Mothers are the ones that everyone assumes love their child. The mother is always right and knows best, unless they don’t like the circumstance. People read about cases where a mother murders her child and they are beyond shocked, but never as shocked as a father. Murder, of course, is always shocking and horrible, but everyone believes mothers are always lovable until proven wrong, unlike a father who has to prove they are good.

I have a theory. Not about mothers—I don’t really understand that—but about some situations. First, let’s explain something about life. Everyone goes through what I’m calling "switches in their life," where something drastically happens, a relationship, moving, someone dying, breaking something, etc. When a switch happens, things change quickly, and you change quickly. Whether they're your feelings, thoughts, or physical plans. This happens, no matter how much you plan. How does this connect to why I hate my mother?

Well, when I was 10, my father died of a heart attack after 45 long years of dealing with a heart condition. This was a switch in everyone’s life that was involved. There are times when people go through a similar switch where they can connect, become closer, or even relate to whatever type of feeling, whether grief or pain. But, not in this instance, nor in many others. In an instance like this one, people are pushed away in a time of need, which then causes distance and a ruined relationship.

I was pushed away, as a young child looking for a parent's love in a confusing, painful time. Something most young children don’t have to go through, something no one I knew could relate to. Then, by the time she was ready to connect, not only had she pushed me too far away, but she did things I couldn’t forgive.

But, this is not the only situation. I didn’t fully believe the theory until I thought about someone I knew. A friend of mine was eight when his father left. He has two other siblings. When growing up, they lived in the same house, went to the same schools for most of the time, and were in the same situation. Things are different for everyone, but in this case, I’m looking at the way of life. In this family, the older child, my friend, hated his father. He hated him so much that it was a topic of frequent discussion, while the young child loved him. My theory is that there is an age when you aren’t young enough to forget, but you're not old enough to not care. From about age eight to 12, you care enough. My friend was old enough to see the switch of divorce and abandonment. He has grown to change, as he is an adult. But that is his choice, and the situations are different, no matter what theory I make.

The theory is, when you’re old enough to care, a switch in life can be painful and can make a distance between people. Why do I hate my mother? Because of a switch we couldn’t control, a switch where she pushed me away. But, not only that, she abused me with words day in a day out, constantly screaming. And the worst of all, my father was still above ground while she got married in a $3,000 wedding dress. Not only did the switch distance each of us from the other, but she is also a horrible person.

Yes, I hate my mother. No, I am not a moody teenager. No, I’m not spoiled. No, I am not rude. If, you don’t know the story, if you weren’t there every day to watch my world fall apart and watch me hit rock bottom again and again, you have no right to tell me I am anything other than a person who deserves better than what I was given.

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