And it’s okay if you hate yours, too. This might be why…
At this moment in time, I hate my mother. The dictionary defines the word “hate” as an intense and passionate dislike. That sounds about right. I intensely dislike my mother and all that she represents at this point in my life.
In my previous writings on the topic, I’ve discussed my dislike and disdain for my mother because of her narcissistic traits and actions. Only recently, however, has that disdain and mild dislike turned into actual derision and hatred. There was a time where I would have felt guilty, even as a Christian, but that time has past. I know that I will have to reconcile my feelings with my faith, and for my mental health, but right now, at this particular moment, I hate my mother.
As a person, I wouldn’t hate her so much as find her insufferable, limiting my interactions with her to a bare minimum. I wouldn’t even consider her a good friend if she weren’t my mother. She has times where she has been a good friend, but those are few and far between. I would give her latitude and a bit of grace if she were a stranger. After all, I don’t have high expectations for most strangers.
It’s different when it’s your mother, though, isn’t it? This is one of the two people in life that are supposed to be there for you. This is someone who you’re supposed to be able to run to…
