I Can Speak Openly About My Abusive Mother––I Don’t Owe Her Anything

I don’t have any love left for my mother.

I can already hear the reactions—people asking, “You must feel some love for her, right?” But the answer is no. I don’t feel love for her, and I refuse to feel guilty about it because she didn’t extend love to me first.

It was only when I heard another individual, estranged from their parent, say, “They didn’t love me first,” that I understood my emotions were valid. They are correct. Our parents initiated this cycle. We dedicated our childhoods to loving them, hoping for their affection in return. Many adults continue this pursuit, yearning for their parents’ approval. But it’s completely acceptable to reach a point where you realize you can no longer endure this one-sided relationship and acknowledge that you never truly loved your parent either. How could you? They never allowed it.

What often happens is that we end up loving the concept of our parent—an idealized version, often based on unrealized potential.

I feel judged for my lack of affection towards my mother. I understand this perspective comes from those who have had nurturing relationships, shaped by loving parents. They struggle to comprehend my experience, as they can only imagine what it’s like to feel devoid of love from a mother.

My mother is not like those other mothers. In reality, she wasn’t a mother at all. I was the one who took on that role. I cared for her, protected her, and managed her emotions. I made excuses for her behavior. I loved her, but it was a love filled with anxiety, desperation, and a constant feeling of inadequacy. I believed that if I devoted myself enough, if I loved her fiercely enough, she would love me back—not just when it suited her.

For twenty-four years, I loved my mother. Loving her was a painful struggle that deeply impacted my mental health. I continually forgave her and adjusted myself to gain her approval. I took responsibility for her shortcomings, treating her like a child and allowing her to avoid accountability for her actions. I became an overprotective figure rather than a daughter.

Perhaps I share some blame for the person she has become. Despite my good intentions, I inadvertently assisted in creating a monster. But I was just a child, acting out of the obligation she imposed on me. I believed I was doing the right thing, thinking it would earn her love and make me feel worthy.

When I say I don’t love my mother, people fail to grasp the depths of my previous affection for her. They overlook the fact that liberating myself from that love has been a significant release. No one stops to consider the reasons behind my feelings or the experiences that led to them. Our culture often emphasizes the notion of “honoring thy mother and father.” But how can I honor someone who embodies dishonor?

The most challenging aspect is that my mother shows no remorse. Reflecting on my childhood, I can’t recall a single instance where she expressed regret. She didn’t apologize when she put me in perilous situations leading to abuse. She never acknowledged the psychological toll it took on my sisters and me. There was no remorse when the abuser faced justice, nor when we struggled with mental health issues. She was indifferent to the fear her temper instilled in us and the damage caused by her hurtful words. Even when I finally gathered the courage to confront her as an adult, she remained unrepentant.

While many mothers experience “mom guilt,” my mother seemed entirely devoid of that emotion. It was never her fault; it was always mine. I remember instances of her erupting into rage over trivial matters, refusing to control her emotions. If she was annoyed, she would yell; if she felt down, she would cry uncontrollably, regardless of how it affected those around her.

I remember a time she unleashed her wrath on me, hurling insults that struck at my insecurities. I stepped outside, overwhelmed, and began to panic. Instead of recognizing her part in my distress, she blamed me for panicking, stating, “I can’t see through walls,” as if my struggles were invisible to her. Yet, she could hear me gasping for air. She felt nothing.

Sometimes, the pain came not from her actions but from her inaction. When I faced bullying at school, she would find ways to blame me, critiquing my mannerisms and appearance. “You shouldn’t have said that,” or “You sounded weak” were common remarks from her.

This hurt deeply and left lasting scars. But what stung the most was the absence of support, validation, and loyalty. She was never on my side, almost as if she understood the bullies because she was my first bully. As a child, I couldn’t comprehend this. Now, as an adult, it makes perfect sense.

She never protected me—from bullies, from my father’s harshness, or from sexual abuse. Yet, I always stood by her. I was kind, loyal, and forgiving. I loved her, despite the pain.

Eventually, I reached a breaking point in adulthood and had to distance myself. This wasn’t a choice; it felt more like a necessity. Many don’t grasp that estranging oneself from a parent often feels like a lack of choice.

I know I wouldn’t have survived emotionally or physically if I had remained in that environment. Her absence of love drove me to contemplate ending my life. There were moments I felt so unworthy, believing that if I couldn’t earn her love, what was the point of enduring the pain?

Releasing myself from the burden of loving her has reclaimed my power, allowing me to genuinely live. I no longer seek her approval and accept that she never loved me. Although the journey of letting go was excruciating at times, it stands as the best decision I’ve ever made.

My lack of love for my mother doesn’t stem from being a bad person. It arises from my bravery and commitment to healing. I don’t love her because I have more deserving people in my life—my sisters, my husband, and my daughter. Why waste love on someone who brings me pain when I can give it to those who make my life fulfilling?

I don’t love my mom because I value myself too much to allow her to hurt me again.

If you’re interested in more stories like this, check out our post on overcoming familial challenges. For those exploring the journey of motherhood, this resource is a great authority on fertility topics, while Women’s Health offers excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.

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Summary:

The author reflects on their difficult relationship with their abusive mother, expressing a lack of love due to their mother’s emotional neglect and harmful behavior. They discuss the pain of growing up seeking approval and eventually breaking away for their mental health. The process of letting go of love for their mother has been painful but ultimately liberating, allowing them to focus on healthier relationships.

Keyphrase: estranged from abusive parent

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