Saying that my relationship with my mother is complicated may be the understatement of my life.

I know that she loves me, at least mentally. Emotionally, it is a feeling that varies wildly depending on the day. On occasion, even the hour. She is bossy and strongly controlling. She believes that her way is the absolutely correct way and that deviating from it is a form of willful disobedience on the part of myself and my brother. She traces what she considers to be my willful disobedience and blatant disrespect to 7th grade as the origin point.

I was homeschooled and I was a very poor student. I did not care all that much and my grades reflected that. She was working full time while attempting to teach me. She believes that my grades and attitude at the time were a result of my belief that she was an inadequate teacher. This was not the case. I was 13. I was disillusioned with school. I did not like the discipline and time that it required. I did not bear ill will to her. Sure, there were times that I acted up yet they were not out of malice and hatred. They came from moments of disillusionment and annoyance.

These feelings persisted into high school. In many regards, they became worse. Our relationship became worse. We increasingly fought. At least on my end, some of the emotional bonds that had formed when I was younger began to erode. I felt like “How can someone who loves me always complain about me and argue that I’m horrible, etc?” I believed that things would get better when I started at community college. I was wrong.

We butted heads constantly. She felt like I took the wrong courses, that I had no friends, that I was a suck up, etc. She strongly opposed and resented that I took a lot of literature courses while I was there. I was wasting time on inconsequential and fluffy fields. My grades were never good enough. The job that I had in the college bookstore was hated. Everything that I did there was critiqued and demeaned. I was often compared to my brother and frequently informed of how he was better then me. Smarter then me. More popular then I am. I can go on.

During high school and continuing into my time at community college, we fought majorly over religion. I was raised to be very very Christian and extremely conservative. By the time that I was 16, I had rejected that. I kept my faith but I viewed through a more progressive prism. I articulated beliefs that the church is obligated to care for the poor, oppressed and downtrodden. I argued that same-sex marriage is a completely biblical concept. I argued over what a proper definition of pro-life religiously is.

Those were some of the nastiest fights we ever had, and still have.

I got into a very good and devoutly Christian university. She goes off on it constantly. On how it is not actually Christian. On how the faculty there are not qualified to teach. On how I’m receiving a mediocre education and they are simply feeding me what I want to hear. On how I’m wasting the money pursuing my degree.

Simply put:

I’ve been constantly informed of how horrible I am for at least 9 years. Of how I’ll never amount to anything. Of how I always fuck up. Of how I have no friends. Of how people only talk to me because they feel guilty I’m always off by myself. Of how I’ll never have a good job. Of how I shouldn’t have kids if I’m going to raise them with the same beliefs I have. Of how, with them not knowing, how my orientation makes me this awful being. From my mother of how I’ll be the death of her, either through my actions (literally) or through stress causing medical problems. How I’ve devalued the entire house because of the dog. How I’ll never be as smart as my brother. Or caring. Or have friends like he does. Of how the fact that I write poetry and fiction in my free time is wrong. I can go on and on and on.

I’ll admit that I have done things that have led to how things are today. I’m critical of her. I do not always go along with her plans. I am hard on her regarding her medication, which she forgets to take at times. I oppose her view that if I am home, that I am to be downstairs with her until she goes to sleep. There are definite things that I need to change regarding how I am with her. I have a great deal of difficulty in accepting that she is who she is. That she does actually care about me given all of the things that she has said.

I’m currently home for winter break for a month. I cannot even describe how terrifying a month here is to me at the moment. A month where I get criticized for everything that I do. Everything that I believe in. A month where I have to hide a portion of myself due to her extreme views. A month where I have to fake being happy when I’m not.

I just don’t know how to get over things and move on, and I worry that even if I can manage to, that she will never forgive me and do the same.