"It is better to be feared than loved," except when it comes to motherhood.....

I had some time to think on the drive home from an awesome play date last week. I have come to the realization that I grew up afraid of my mother's temper. I thought this was normal. I thought that having to walk on eggshells for a parental figure was to be expected. I always knew that I could incite her anger at the drop of a hat. She was a hitter when she was really mad. I could see the anger on her face and I was afraid of her. I can still picture her face full of hate and anger and feel that ball of fear form in my stomach. She even hit me in my 20s. I wish I could say that changed when we were both adults. The only thing that changed is that she could no longer actively control me. She didn't want me to drive until I started college so that she could control my comings and goings. I was nervous to drive and she encouraged that fear. When she let me learn to drive she would ride with me. She would make me pull over if there were ANY cars at all behind me. And there always were on the busy streets of Horsham. She didn't want me to have confidence in myself.

I had a car accident right before I moved out of her house. So I once again depended on her for rides. I was late leaving work one day since a co-worker had a seizure in the cubicle next to me and I was required to answer some questions about it. Human resources wanted to interview me. When she picked me up I knew immediately she was angry. I started crying when she started yelling at me. She said I was selfish for making her wait and that I didn't appreciate the sacrifices that she makes for me. She berated me and told me to grow up on the ride home. It was a five minute drive. It felt like fifty minutes.

She would always criticize and pick at conversation topics in a way that made me crazy. She never liked the way I chose to parent my son. She would "gaslight" me and make me feel crazy. She would constantly bring up any nice things she did and expect payment back tenfold. She raised me so I needed to take care of her financially. She took money from me when I worked my way through college. I didn't earn much so most of it went to her. I couldn't wait to move out so I'd have freedom from her abuse and from her greediness. The taking of money never stopped. And if I didn't offer she would make me feel like I was selfish and would proceed to bring up anything she ever did for me.

Since she was usually mad at me I became paranoid about making people angry. I'm very sensitive to the moods of others. Its something I have just noticed about myself. I can't be around people who are angry or depressed without feeling it too. I'm also so worried about angering people. I constantly think someone is mad at me. Its a tough way to go through life. And I hope to make things better for my boys. This is not a good way to go through life. I'm working on it and hoping to improve, but I never want my sons to know this way of living.