What if my mom doesn't love me? "Mom doesn't love me ..." A story from one therapy What to do if mom doesn't love you

• We cannot bear the very thought that the mother may not love us and that it is impossible to love her herself.
• And yet, mothers who “do not love” and even internally “destroy” us do exist.
• Breaking even such a bond is incredibly difficult, but you can try to protect yourself by establishing a distance in the relationship.

“I remember my mother and I went to my former room, where I lived as a teenager,” recalls 32-year-old Lera. - She was sitting on the bed, crying and could not stop. The death of her mother, my grandmother, seemed to just crush her - she was inconsolable. And I did not understand why she was so killed: our grandmother was a real snide. The relationship with which, by the way, cost her daughter more than seven years of psychotherapy.

As a result, my mother succeeded in everything: to establish a personal life, create a happy family and even establish a reasonable relationship with my grandmother. At least I thought so. When I asked: "Why are you crying?", She replied: "Now I will never have a good mother." So, in spite of everything, she continued to hope? During the life of my grandmother, my mother said that she did not love her, - so it turns out that she was lying? "

Relations with your own mother - at the slightest approach to this topic, the Internet forums begin to "storm". Why? What makes this inner bond of ours so unique that under no circumstances can it truly be severed? Does this mean that we, daughters and sons, are forever doomed to love the one who once gave us life?

Social commitment

"I don't love my mother." Very few people are able to pronounce such words. It is unbearably painful, and the inner prohibition against such feelings is too strong. “Outwardly, everything is fine with us,” says 37-year-old Nadezhda. “Let's just say: I try to communicate correctly, not react internally, take nothing too close to my heart.” Choosing his words, 38-year-old Artyom admits that he maintains "good" relations with his mother, "although not particularly close."

“In our public consciousness, one of the most widespread myths is about endless, disinterested and bright love between mother and child,” explains psychotherapist Ekaterina Mikhailova. - There is competition between brothers and sisters; there is something in the love of a man and a woman that can darken her. And the affection of mother and child is the only feeling that, as they say, does not change over the years. It is not for nothing that folk wisdom says: "No one will love you like a mother."

The very thought "I have a bad mother" can destroy a person

“Mother remains a shrine,” agrees sociologist Christine Castelin-Meunier. - Today, when traditional family units are disintegrating, all sorts of roles - from parental to sexual - are shifting, familiar landmarks are lost, we are trying to hold on to something stable that has passed the test of time. That is why the traditional image of the mother is becoming unshakable as never before ”. Just a doubt about its reliability is already unbearable.

“The very thought“ I have a bad mother ”is capable of destroying a person, - says Ekaterina Mikhailova. - It is no coincidence that in fairy tales the wicked witch is always the stepmother. This speaks not only of how difficult it is to accept your negative feelings towards your own mother, but also of how common such feelings are. "

Initial merger

Our relationship is ambivalent, contradictory. “The degree of closeness that initially exists between a mother and a child precludes the existence of a comfortable relationship,” says Ekaterina Mikhailova. - First, a complete merger: we were all born under the beating of our mother's heart. Later, for the baby, she becomes an ideal omnipotent being, capable of satisfying all his needs and wants.

The moment when the child realizes that the mother is imperfect becomes a shock for him. And the less it satisfies the true needs of the child, the harder the blow: sometimes he can give rise to deep resentment, which then grows into hatred. " We are all familiar with moments of bitter childhood anger - when the mother did not fulfill our desires, greatly disappointed or offended us. Perhaps we can say that they are inevitable.

“These moments of hostility are part of a child’s development,” explains psychoanalyst Alain Bracone. - If they are single, then everything goes fine. But if hostile feelings torment us for a long time, it becomes an internal problem. More often this happens to children whose mothers are too busy with themselves, prone to depression, overly demanding, or, conversely, always keep aloof. "

It will be easier for us to go our own way if we try to sort out our feelings and separate the feelings of guilt from them.

Mother and child seem to merge together, and the strength of emotions in their relationship is directly proportional to the intensity of this merger. It is even more difficult for single children or those who grew up in an incomplete family to admit to themselves hostile feelings towards their own mother.

“As far back as I can remember, I have always been the main meaning of her life,” says 33-year-old Roman. - This is probably a great happiness, which is not given to everyone - but also a difficult burden, too. For example, for a long time it was not possible for me to meet someone, to have a personal life. She couldn't share me with anyone! " Today his connection with his mother is still very strong: “I don’t want to go far from her, I found myself an apartment very close, two stops ... Although I understand that such a relationship deprives me of real freedom.”

Almost none of the adults and even very unhappy children actually dare to burn all the bridges. They deny that they are angry with their mother, try to understand her, find excuses: she herself had a difficult childhood, a difficult fate, life did not work out. Everyone tries to behave "as if" ... As if everything was fine, and the heart would not hurt so much.

The main thing is not to talk about it, otherwise the avalanche of pain will sweep everything away and "carry it beyond the point of no return," as Roman figuratively puts it. Adult children support this connection at all costs. “I call her out of a sense of duty,” says 29-year-old Anna. “She loves me in her heart, and I don’t want to upset her.”

In debt from birth

Psychoanalysis speaks of “the original duty” and its consequence - that feeling of guilt that connects us for life with the woman to whom we owe our birth. And whatever our feelings are, in the very depths of our souls there is still a hope that someday everything can still somehow improve. “I understand intellectually that you can't change my mother,” sighs 43-year-old Vera. “And yet I can’t come to terms with the fact that nothing will ever change between us.”

“I lost my first child in childbirth,” recalls 56-year-old Maria. - Then I thought that at least this time my mother would at least show sympathy. But no, she did not think that the death of a child was a sufficient reason for grief: after all, I had not even seen him! Since then, I have literally lost sleep. And this nightmare continued for years - until the day when, in a conversation with a psychotherapist, I suddenly realized that I did not love my mother. And I felt that I have the right to do so. "

It seems to everyone, without exception, that we were not loved as they should have been.

We have the right not to experience this love, but we do not dare to use it. “We have a long-standing childhood insatiable longing for a good parent, a thirst for tenderness and unconditional love,” says Ekaterina Mikhailova. - We all, without exception, think that we were not loved the way we should have. I think not a single child had exactly the kind of mother he needed. "

It is even more difficult for someone whose relationship with his mother was difficult. “In our understanding of her, there is no separation between the omnipotent maternal figure, familiar to us from infancy, and a real person,” continues Ekaterina Mikhailova. "This image does not change in time: it also contains the depth of childhood despair, when the mother is delayed, and we think that she is lost and will not come again, and later ambivalent feelings."

Only a “good enough” mother helps us move towards adult independence. Such a mother, satisfying the vital needs of the child, makes him understand: life is worth living. She, without rushing to fulfill his slightest desire, gives another lesson: in order to live well, you need to gain independence.

Fear of becoming the same

Having entered motherhood in their turn, Vera and Maria did not mind the communication of their mothers with their grandchildren, hoping that their "bad" mothers would become at least "good" grandmothers. Before the birth of her first child, Vera found an amateur film made by her father in her childhood. A laughing young woman with a little girl in her arms looked at her from the screen.

“My heart grew warmer,” she recalls. - In fact, our relationship soured when I became a teenager, but before that, my mother seemed to be happy that I was in the world. I am sure that I was able to become a good mother to my two sons only thanks to these first years of my life. But when I see her annoyed with my children today, everything turns upside down in me - I immediately remember what she has become. "

Maria, like Vera, took her mother as an antimodel to build relationships with her children. And it worked: "One day at the end of a long telephone conversation, my daughter said to me:" It's so nice, Mom, to talk to you. " I hung up and burst into tears. I was happy that I was able to build a wonderful relationship with my children, and at the same time, bitterness stifled me: after all, I myself did not get such. "

The initial lack of maternal love in the lives of these women was partially filled by others - those who were able to convey to them the desire to have a child, helped them understand how to raise him, love and accept his love. Thanks to such people, good mothers can grow from girls with a "disliked" childhood.

Looking for indifference

When the relationship is too painful, the right distance becomes vital. And suffering adult children are looking for only one thing - indifference. “But this protection is very fragile: the slightest step, a gesture from the mother’s side, is enough, as everything collapses, and the person is wounded again,” says Ekaterina Mikhailova. Everyone dreams of finding such spiritual protection ... and admits that they cannot find it.

“I tried to completely" disconnect "from her, moved to another city, - says Anna. - But as soon as I hear her voice in the receiver - it seems to pierce me through with an electric current ... No, it is unlikely, and now I do not care. Maria chose a different strategy: "It's easier for me to maintain some kind of formal connection than to break it completely: I see my mother, but very rarely." Allowing yourself not to love the one who raised us, and not suffering too much, is incredibly difficult. But probably.

“This is a hard-won indifference,” says Ekaterina Mikhailova. - It comes if the soul manages to survive that long-standing lack of warmth, love and care, it comes from our pacified hatred. Childhood pain will not go anywhere, but it will be easier for us to go our own way if we try to sort out the feelings and separate the guilt from them. " Growing up means getting rid of that which fetters freedom. But growing up is a very long journey.

Change relationships

Allowing yourself not to love your mother ... Will it make it easier? No, I'm sure Ekaterina Mikhailova. This honesty won't make it any easier. But the relationship will definitely get better.

“Changing the style of your relationship with your mother will make it less painful. But, as in tango, a counter movement of two people is necessary, so consent to change is required from both the mother and the adult child. The first step is always for the child. Try to break down your conflicting feelings about your mother. When did these emotions appear - today or in deep childhood? Perhaps some of the claims have expired.

Having broken off a difficult relationship, mother and child will stop poisoning each other's lives and wait for the impossible.

Look at your mother from an unexpected angle, imagine how she would have lived if you had not been born to her. Finally, acknowledge that your mom may have difficult feelings for you, too. When starting to build new relationships, it is important to understand how sad it is: to get away from a fatal and unique connection, to die for each other as a parent and child.

Having broken off a difficult relationship, the mother and child will stop poisoning each other's lives and wait for the impossible, they will be able to evaluate each other more coldly, soberly. Their interaction will be like friendship, cooperation. They will appreciate the time allotted to them more, learn to negotiate, joke, manage their feelings. In a word, they will learn to live ... with the fact that it is still impossible to overcome ”.

Personal experience

For the first time, many of them were able to say: "Mom did not love me" by writing a message on the forum. The anonymity of online communication and the support of other visitors help us emotionally detach ourselves from relationships that can consume our lives. Several quotes from users of our forum.

“If she read me a children's book (which was rare), then the name of the bad character (Tanya-revushki, Masha-confused, Grynuli, etc.) was replaced by mine, and for better understanding she poked her finger at me. Another memory: we are going to a neighbor's girl for her birthday, mom has two dolls. “Which one do you like best? This one? Well, that means we will give it! " According to her, this is how she brought up altruism in me. " (Freken Bock)

“Mom endlessly talked about her misadventures, and her life seemed to me a tragedy. I don't know if unloving mothers have some kind of special filter for dropping out everything positive, or if this is such a way of manipulation. But they see their child extremely negatively: his appearance, character, and intentions. And the very fact of its existence. " (Alex)

“It became easier for me when I was able to admit that my mother did not love me as a child. I accepted this as a fact of my biography, as if I “allowed” her not to love myself. And she "allowed" herself not to love her. And now I no longer feel guilty. " (Ira)

“My mother’s lack of love severely poisoned the beginning of my motherhood. I understood that I should be gentle and affectionate with the child, and I tortured these feelings, while suffering from the fact that I was a “bad mother”. But he weighed me down - just as I weighed my parents. And then one day (I hope it’s not too late) I realized that love can be trained. Pump up like muscle tissue. Daily, hourly, a little bit. Do not run past when the child is open and waiting for support, affection or just participation. To catch these moments and by an effort of will to force himself to stop and give him what he needs so much. Through "I don't want, I can't, I'm tired." One small victory, the second, a habit appears, then - you feel pleasure and joy. " (Wow)

“It's hard to believe that your mom really did this. The memories seem so unreal that it is impossible to stop thinking about it: was it really EXACTLY SO in reality? " (Nik)

“From the age of three I knew that my mother gets tired of the noise (which I create), because she has high blood pressure, she does not like children's games, does not like to hug and say affectionate words. I took it calmly: well, such a character. I loved her the way she was. If she was annoyed with me, then I whispered to myself the magic phrase: "Because my mother has hypertension." It even seemed to me somehow honorable that my mother was not like everyone else: she has this mysterious disease with a beautiful name. But when I grew up, she explained to me that she was sick because I was a “bad daughter”. And it psychologically just killed me. " (Madame Kolobok)

“For several years, together with a psychologist, I learned to feel like a woman, to choose clothes not for reasons of“ practical ”,“ non-mark ”(as my mother taught), but on the principle“ I like it ”. I learned to listen to myself, understand my desires, talk about my needs ... Now I can communicate with my mother as a friend, a person of a different circle who cannot hurt me. Perhaps this can be called a success story. The only thing is that I don't really want children. Mom said: "Do not give birth, do not marry, this is hard labor." I turn out to be an obedient daughter. Although now I live with a young man, it means that I have left a loophole for myself. " (Oxo)

5 Sep 1 3345

Julia Goryacheva: At 33, I realized that I didn't love my mother. That I would like to abandon her, delete her from my life ... or I would like to change her (as it may not sound absurd) for a friendly, smiling, calm, gentle, kind, understanding and, most importantly, a woman who accepts me. Communication with her in recent years has brought me nothing but negative emotions and, as a result, wasted and unrecovered nerves.

No, not an alcoholic, not a drug addict, not a licentious woman. On the contrary, it is very correct, one might even say exemplary. In every way. Rather, he wants to seem like that. And I was already fed up with these double standards!

To begin with, my mother loved to repeat all her life how she loves children, how she understands them, and how she knows how to find a common language with them. Only she gave me to be raised by her parents, having parted with my father. And then, many years later, she told me that, in fact, she wanted to have an abortion with me, because the relationship with my dad was already on the brink, but then she decided: "Yes, that I will not raise a child!" and gave me life ... so that later she could run away from my father and send me to be raised with my grandparents in another city, supposedly it was impossible to live in a hostel with children.

And I lived without my mother from one and a half to five years. She likes to repeat that she came to me every weekend, but for some reason I don't remember her. Now, at 33, already having my three children, I am amazed at the thought that in my childhood I do not remember the Main Figure of my life. I remember her sister, who came every summer, but I don’t remember my mother. Rather, I remember one day when my grandparents told me that my mother would come today. And I waited for her so, waited so! And she didn’t come. Probably since then I don't remember her ...

After parting with my father, my mother deprived me of the opportunity to meet and communicate with him. She said unpleasant things about him, like he can kidnap me, urged me not to go anywhere with him when he came to my kindergarten. As a result, when he came to visit me in grade 1, I ran away from him, following my mother's precepts. He did not come again.

Together with my mother, I lived my school and student years.

She was never gentle and affectionate with me and never hugged me, arguing that life is a difficult thing and she does not want to grow a nurse out of me. In general, she raised me in such a way that I was afraid of her. I was afraid to disobey, I was afraid to object, I was even afraid to confess to her when the English teacher pawed me, to whom she also attached me for private lessons.

My mother has always loved helping her girlfriends solve relationship problems. She, a divorced woman, considered herself a guru in the relationship between man and woman. She always bonded families, urging her friends not to divorce under a hot hand. And only to me she liked to repeat: "Divorce your husband!" If I complained to her in my hearts about him. The apotheosis was when she called her husband's cell phone last year and also invited him to divorce me after our skirmish. Since then, I have not told her anything, no matter what difficulties I have in the relationship.

And she also loves to brag in public about what wonderful grandchildren she has. Now there are already three of them. And I'm expecting a fourth child. But the last two might not have been - listen to my mother and do sterilization after the second child. She decided that the children were enough for me, that the weather, born through a cesarean section, was too hard for me. She even convinced me to negotiate sterilization with a doctor before giving birth to my second child. Thanks to my doctor, she said: “No way. Then you want a boy and you will run after me with a knife. " Then I really gave birth to a boy, and myself, at home, feeling the birth as it was conceived by nature. By the way, this is to the question of how much mom loves children….

Also to the question of my mother's love for children - my mother's psychosis about my prolonged breastfeeding of my son. Mom probably considers herself an expert in breastfeeding. She quit feeding me when I was a month old, simply because the children's clinic told her that I was not gaining weight well because she had low-fat milk. Now she is sure that after a year, the guards do not give anything good to the child. Since I fed my daughters for up to a year, there were no conflicts. They started when my mother saw me feeding my son at the age of one year and two months. She is an expert, she knows that after a year there is nothing useful in milk for a child, and with this useless feeding I only want to tie my son to myself more strongly when I "shove his boob in his mouth." How many unkind looks and caustic remarks were directed at me when I was feeding my son with her. In the end, I couldn't stand it.

I rarely explode, but here I was already sick! The person who fed for a month will still teach me how much to feed my child! I was indignant, and immediately learned a lot about myself. She said things that were very offensive to me: that I am a nervous mother, that I do not look after children well, that I don’t represent anything, that I am a good-for-nothing daughter ... When, in tears of despair, I asked, “Mom, there is something in me anything good? ”she hissed angrily“ No! ”. It was very painful to hear and it was a turning point in our relationship with her. And literally an hour before that, she broadcast to the guests that my husband and I are wonderful parents, such children have raised. Again these double standards!

For my mother, I am only valuable as a creature capable of benefiting society. When I studied, spoke at conferences, wrote articles, led an active lifestyle, had numerous hobbies, changed jobs - my mother was proud of me. Then I, in my mother's understanding, lived. In the last 6 years, my life has stopped, since all this time I have been giving birth and raising children. With each child, my mother loved to repeat: "It's time to do something, you stayed at home too long."

And for some reason it doesn't matter at all that as a result of my 6-year stay at home, my children are healthy (lack of vaccinations, hardening), active (walks in the fresh air in large quantities), creative (visiting circles), cheerful and sociable ( in their lives there is a lot of time for games, and play for me is the most important thing that should be in a child's childhood). The third child, born at home, generally has excellent health and is developing well.

No, something else is important for mom. It turns out that I am an unlucky hostess (I cook porridge not the way she thinks it is right and I do not clean the apartment in a timely manner), an unlucky mother (yelling at the children) and an unlucky wife (I talk to my husband in a raised voice and sometimes (oh, horror!) I swear with him with children). Mom likes to emphasize that she never quarrels with her husband (she has a second marriage, got married at 47). Only I somehow became an involuntary witness of how she yelled at her husband. One illusion crumbled. And then after all, I used to think: "Yeah, my mother does not quarrel with her husband, it means she lives right, I swear, then I live wrong." And only recently I realized that everyone swears. It's only my mom who wants to seem better than she is. Oh, how she feels sorry for our children when we fight. Previously, such phrases of her drove me into a wild feeling of guilt in front of children. And only recently I realized that it is better to let the children live in a full-fledged family, where anything can happen, than the way I spent my childhood: mom and dad did not fight just because they were not in my childhood. But grandfather and grandmother, with whom I grew up, quarreled.

A separate story is my relationship with my husband.

We have been together for almost 10 years and I consider it my achievement that I manage to maintain a relationship with him and keep a family, partly contrary to this stupid statistics that the children of divorced parents will get divorced. I love my husband and cannot imagine another man next to me.

Sometimes it seems to me that Mom is depressed. It would be much more pleasant for her to repeat her script. Before, I had the stupidity to tell her about my quarrels with my husband. And she was immediately inspired, started calling me, urging me to throw him to the devil's mother, take the children and move to her (she is in another city). And there she will arrange my life. As one of my friends joked, "Your mom wants to become your husband." Both sad and funny.

Especially my mother "supported" me when this year my husband had a serious accident. Soft-boiled machine, sternum fracture, surgery. He miraculously survived. I went through a terrible period, realizing that he was on the verge of death. From my mother: not a drop of sympathy, not an ounce of understanding, although at that time we were on the same territory. Moreover, she reproached my six-year-old daughter for letting go of too much nuns when she saw dad's wrecked car and decided that dad was dead. To which I exploded: "The child has the right to show his emotions as he sees fit and there is nothing to shut her mouth." It was one of those rare cases when I dared to contradict my mother, which, of course, did not like her and she immediately scolded me like a girl.

This accident took our relationship with my husband to a new level. We realized how much we love and appreciate each other, and the result was the birth of a child.

And, can you imagine, I, a 33-year-old woman, being legally married to a beloved man, a mother of three children, was afraid to tell my mother about this fourth child. As at one time I was afraid to say about the third. I'm completely out of the family scenario. It is not customary to give birth to a lot in our family. It is customary to have abortions. I am ashamed to admit that I wanted to have an abortion with this child. And the worst thing is that I wanted to have an abortion with each of my children. With the first, because it was not clear whether my future husband would marry me or not, and even at work, they began to oppress when they learned about pregnancy, with the second - because I was horrified by the upbringing of the weather, and everyone around, including my mother, kept repeating : "Oh, how hard it will be for you!" have an abortion !? And all my children go through this meat grinder of horrible thoughts. What a pity that this information has been hammered into my head and I know about such a possibility of our valiant medicine. Here animals have no idea about abortion and give birth to everyone in a row. And people….

Having learned about the child, my mother was far from happy. But rather, I was angry that I was allowing myself! I survived completely out of my mind, to give birth to so many in our time! My poor husband, I am driving him into bondage with this fourth child.

Eh, mom, mom ...

Having become a mother three times myself, I began to understand a lot. And how many illusions have disappeared over the past year! And only bitter reality remained. I do not love my mother and I doubt if she loves me.

Commentaries of psychologists CONSCIOUSLY.RU:

Olga Cover, process and systemic therapist, constellator: As much as we accept and respect our mother, so much we can find happiness, success, fullness of life. This thought by Bert Hellinger once touched me deeply. Then, when I could write something similar about the relationship with my mother. With a lot of advice, the mother usually seeks to meet society's expectations of a good mother. In this way, the older generation express their concern, wedging their opinions into the lives of their children. This is their way of loving, often expressing their love in a different way, this generation of mothers does not know how.

After all, they had different ideals in Soviet times. The Soviet Union was often called "the land of the Soviets", as it was customary to control the lives of their children, it was considered a good quality for parents. I remember from the training course in systemic constellations the phrase: "Mother gave life, and that's enough." I thought, after all, life is an invaluable gift to us from our parents, and, first of all, from our mother, so invaluable that no money in the world can often redeem it from oblivion or from death. And we all received this gift. From the parents, to a greater extent from the mother - she decided to leave the child, provided her body, risked herself, being between life and death all the time of pregnancy and childbirth. It's true - we owe our life to our mother. Compared to this, the personality of our mother is not such an important aspect: what she thinks, does, believes.

“Everything comes from childhood - all our traumas and problems” - this position of psychoanalysis has led to the fact that several generations of people have grown up blaming their parents for everything. As long as we blame our parents for our troubles, we have not grown up. An adult mature person takes full responsibility for the changes on himself. And he separates “essential mother” and “personal mother”, and from the first one receives great love, since it was this part of the mother that allowed us inside, raised and nurtured, and the second simply accepts what it is. When this separation and acceptance becomes a reality, one becomes an adult.

What if you can't accept and share? It is enough to give life and resources for development; these resources include love. For the rest, a mother is a separate person, walking her own Path through life, a Path different from her children. And this gives children freedom to develop and choose their own path.

Anastasia Platonova, psychologist, psychotherapist: “Different mothers are needed, different mothers are important” ...

Living with a dislike for your mother is a heavy burden that harms, first of all, ourselves. After all, any negative attitude towards another person gives us a charge of negativity ourselves, slows down, does not allow us to go forward. And no matter how a person cherishes this disgusting feeling in himself, one always (!) Wants to get rid of it, it burdens. Deliverance comes with forgiveness and acceptance. This is a very very difficult process, physically and mentally. Often we are not ready to throw out hatred for those who have offended us from our lives because it seems as if we will become weaker, more vulnerable, forgiving and accepting. Hatred is our defense, but at what cost?

Most of us have many complaints about our parents. But all claims can be expressed in a single phrase: "She / He / They loved / love me not the way I want." Yes Yes! They all, without a single exception, love. True, love, she, is sometimes expressed in very perverse ways. And if we are ready, or are trying, to accept the love of our child in any form (even if it is “mom - you’re bad!”), Then from the parents we competently demand exactly the kind of love that is required for us, at that very moment when we need it, etc. etc. And who said that parents can? After all, we do not require a right-handed person to write ideally with his left hand? Why are we so sure that parents have to be able to love?

It is important to admit at least the thought of what my mother did or tried to do all that she could ... Why admit this thought? In order to find peace of mind, to be able to build your life not against the will of someone, but just the way you want to raise children, realizing that you are passing on to them the goodness that is inside, so that there is no black in your heart a hole that, like the Bermuda Triangle, sucks power into nowhere.

Forgiving and accepting does not at all mean letting your parents influence your life; on the contrary, it means freeing yourself, unleashing the shackles that are pulling back. Acceptance means learning to breathe deeply, learning to focus on yourself and your desires, without looking back at anyone. And accepting a parent always means also making friends with that part of oneself with which one could not agree in any way before.

Olga Kolyada,practical psychologist, teacher at the Ladya training center: Time after time I read and listen to the confessions of adult women about difficult feelings for mothers at trainings ... It is sad, sorry in my own way for both mother and daughter. I have nothing to say to aging mothers - they have already given, or not given everything they could. And now they receive the corresponding "feedback" - difficult and unhappy relationships with adult daughters, or in general the loss of relationships.

But I want to say to my daughters - dear, you have the right to ALL your feelings towards your mother! Everything that is. And it is not your fault - it is your misfortune if there is no or almost no love left among these feelings. Initially, a child always comes with love to his mother, it cannot be otherwise. And then the mother can perform actions (of varying degrees of awareness and for various reasons) of such severity and pain that they partially or completely block this love on your part. And how can you be to blame for this? Then - why are you ashamed to confess calmly - yes, I do not love my mother, perhaps I even hate? Because “you can't have such thoughts!”? How is it - there are feelings, but you cannot have thoughts? Who said that? Mama?…

The paradox is that you should calmly allow yourself to admit your most "bad" feelings for your mother, as your attitude towards her immediately begins to lose its "degree"! Accepting what is, it is easier to build communication with her (if any) on the basis of this given, and not from "how good daughters should have." If there is no communication, you begin to worry less about its absence. And there are also gifts - by allowing yourself to feel all negative feelings, you are freed from their part, and deep under them you discover Love, which in fact has not gone anywhere, just there was no place for it on the surface before ...

Question to the psychologist:

The fact is that, I do not feel and do not see love and understanding for me from my mother.

Since, I always call her with the hope that I will receive support and understanding from her, kind words, but in response I only hear NOT kind words. Whatever happens there, whatever happens there, in her opinion, I'm always bad. Not once did she intercede for me, for example, in a quarrel or dispute with an older sister. The older sister is 1984, and I am 1991. She is a leader, I always listen to her, but she reaches the limit, she starts to become impudent, I endure it all and keep quiet. She always provokes me into a conflict, and if I defend myself a little bit, God forbid, if I defend myself, that's all, for my mother I am an egoist. Even when I am silent, I endure, they do not see it and do not appreciate it, in the end they just bring it to tears, I come to myself, I look for support on the side, since there is no support in the family, I have to look outside, not everyone understands, and therefore, I turn to a psychologist. It is very difficult to endure and silently listen to their insult to your address out of the blue. Also, my sister manipulates all my relatives, sets everyone up against me, as a result, no one talks to me, if I start talking, they start to press again, run over, insult. I myself am a disabled person of group 2, and I try not to be nervous so as not to harm myself to my health. Sometimes it seems that it would be better for me to die than to endure all this, but then I think God loves me, and he tests me through such people, through such a family. But, it's hard, sometimes I want to run away, I don't see anyone, don't answer calls, leave them all, they don't need me anyway. Since there are no kind words, attention, support, love from anyone. Many people receive support and love from my mother, from my family, from my relatives, for me it’s just the opposite, I myself am looking for people who understand me, it’s very difficult. But, nevertheless, I manage to find it, and it becomes a little easier for me. But every time I talk to my mother or to my older sister, who on the corner she has written since childhood, how she hates me. In front of strangers, he talks to me very nicely, and when alone, he finds any reason to offend me, to offend me in full, to bring to tears. At the same time, she keeps Fasting during the month of Ramadan, and she still behaves this way, the feeling is with the aim of being invited to visit, showing more respect, and so on. Although God will condemn this, and yet, it is very difficult for me. How to get out of such a morally difficult situation.

The question is answered by the psychologist Evgenia Vasilievna Varaksina.

Hello Saltanat!

Family is a wonderful and interesting thing. We are born in it as children and in it we become adults. How does an adult's position differ from that of a child? The child needs to receive: food, care, love and care from the parents. Otherwise, he simply will not survive.

What is adult position? This is the position of giving love, attention, care, material support.

You are 25 years old, and only you can decide which position to choose. You can continue to feel sorry for yourself (including because of your health), wait and demand care and love, or start giving it to people yourself. I wrote to you directly, without embellishment. Why? Believe me, I know what it means to feel sorry for myself and make claims to the world (this happened when my father died). This path only leads to the destruction of oneself and one's health, and this is too high a price. We are born to be happy, not to be offended.

And if you nevertheless decide to choose the position of an adult in the family :) how to start realizing it?

First, start observing. The child is always "in the game", he is included in the situation and does not see it from the outside. If, for example, a child plays a board game, he wants to win with all his might, all emotions are included in the game. How does an adult behave? He observes the game, the child and wants not so much to win the board game (his own benefit), but to please the child (benefit to another). Do you understand what I mean? You are now completely in the game, you want to win with all your strength and emotions (to prove that your sister is wrong, that she is selfish, that her mother is in vain to support her). Quit the game. Observe your family members from the outside as you would an actor on a stage. Where they behave selfishly, say within yourself "it's a pity they haven't learned this yet." Learn from their mistakes and treat people differently. Observe from the side. Enough to play one performance with them, you have your own life and you were born to learn to be happy in this life.

The position of an adult presupposes giving and giving. Do not expect anything from your loved ones, start caring yourself, paying attention to them and other people, and supporting them. All people, regardless of their financial situation, are spiritually rich or poor. The poor demand attention, care, love; the rich give it to others themselves. Start doing creative work (music, painting, dancing, photography, embroidery - whatever interests you) and share this creativity with other people (via social networks or in person, with family and friends, or simply with those who have similar interests).

An adult has decided on his values ​​and faith. If you believe in God, imagine every day that you are his favorite child. The family cannot always give us protection and love, but God can always give them. Curl up in the morning, before getting up, in bed like a baby in the mother's belly and think "I am God's beloved child. I came into this world because God loves me. In this life he gives me everything THAT IS TO ME. NEEDED FOR DEVELOPMENT. " Feel protected and loved and get up filled with this love and share it with people. Learn not to criticize and reproach, but to care, but if you can't find a common language with someone at all, step aside and observe.

I hardly remember my childhood until 8 years old, except for unpleasant moments of physical pain from being beaten by my mother, falling and other situations in which my child's psyche was hurt. I don't remember a single happy day.

My mother raised me alone, when I was three years old, she divorced my alcoholic father. I am the third child. My older brother was raised by my grandmother, my sister was taken by my father, with whom we did not keep in touch in the future.

Mom worked hard, she is a doctor. She came home always nervous, she took all her anger at me. Daily scandals, in which my grandmother also participated, during the day I had to endure my grandmother, and in the evening my mother, humiliation, obscenities, beatings ... The words that without her I’m no one to call me, and if she dies, I will end up in the trash. That she did not arrange her life because of me, if she brought a man, then my place would be in the kitchen in the corner on a mat. Only my place was already in the kitchen on a folding sofa, due to the lack of my own room. I could not sleep with my grandmother, who at night goes to the toilet in a bucket and splashes of urine fly into my face. And I could not sleep in a room with my mother, who is always angry and does not sleep until late at night. Naturally, I tried to sleep in one room, then in another. But in the end I went to the kitchen, and in the kitchen at 6 am I got up, from the noisy kettle, etc. With that in mind. that I fell asleep not earlier than three in the morning, pondering my life, sobbing ... and cultivating hatred, anger and resentment in myself.

Now I'm 23 and can't sleep at night. I wake up to work and many other important things ... but I can't even with strong tranquilizers fall asleep before 5-8 in the morning ... Because of which my mother is now ready to tear me to pieces, that I will never become a normal person, with normal work, schedule, regime. I am still a failure in her eyes, lazy, unable to change my life even in such a trifle as a dream.

Back to my childhood. Even in the kindergarten, it seemed to me that I was different from the others, no one was friends with me. I don't know why, but I've always been a loner. At school, until the fifth grade, I sat on the last desk alone and was also an outcast. Maybe because she dressed badly and looked unkempt, maybe because everyone noticed my problems. Everyone knew that if you hurt me, no one would intercede. Mom didn't care, she had a lot of work.

But then I was not yet so bad, I still did not understand everything what lay ahead of me, but I already had a feeling that everything was not going well, that something bad awaited me in the future ...

In the fifth grade, my mother's financial situation improved, she began to buy me expensive things, etc., only with even greater reproaches. “Look how I try my best, and you, creature, are not learning! I will die from such work, and you will be in the trash heap! " These words are always in my head.

Even buying me something expensive and beautiful, she said: “Where are you, cow, these hairpins? You will break them on the very first day. " And he buys it anyway. "Where are you, pig, this bright jacket, it will be black, you are a slob."

Now I rarely wear heels and in my wardrobe there is not a single color except black ...

The above is, of course, not the reason, but there is something in it. Only my mother now, when I'm 23, is screaming the opposite: “Why are you, as a goth teenager, put on your black clothes and soldier's boots? Who needs you in these clothes? Go buy normal things! Take the money you need and buy it! "

But I don't need anything anymore. I don't like shopping. I love expensive things and shoes, but strictly in my style. Everything is black and aggressive.

From the fifth grade, everything started about and started ...

The problems in the family were added to the problems at school. I studied poorly. I couldn't study better, I was constantly depressed. It seemed to me that my whole class hates me and is trying to hurt me somehow. There were even fights ...

Grades 7, 8, 9 are hell. At home, beatings and scandals due to grades, at school, beating and humiliation by a high school student (in my class, at some point, they began to fear me and did not touch me once again). I began to fall in love, of course, not mutually - and again pain, and again the disappointment of ridicule, humiliation. I had almost no friends, and if they did, they left me at the first danger that they would begin to spread rot as much as I did because of communication with me.

There were many fights, they just took me one by one to the school and beat several people at a time, the reasons were different - I went in the wrong place, I didn't say that.

At some point, I was summoned at the next “arrow” to beat me up, and a lot of people were called with the words “come and see how we will beat her in the face”. I came as I always did. I had a friend with me. I don't know if she came with me as support or just out of pity.

The guy whom I loved at that moment came there, he was more on the side of the enemies than on mine. And here is the standard question: "What will you do if I push you now?" I mean, I'll hit you back. I'm tired of just standing and enduring all this, in front of so many people. I'm tired of being your whipping and ridicule toy.

A friend read it in my eyes and turns her head: “Answer that you will not do anything. Do not. Do not do this". And I replied that I would push and hit her too.

Less than a second after my answer, I was already flying with my back to the asphalt. Someone caught me from behind, if they had not caught me, there would have been a strong blow with my head on the asphalt ... I immediately try to escape from the hands of the one who caught me. But they hold me. They laugh at the fact that I flew away like a rag doll from a blow to the chest. I don't remember further ... Some kind of conversation, and now I am already in a fight with one of them ... I fought with all my might ... I saw nothing, I just beat her and beat her with all my might. She screamed at me to let her go. To which I continued to beat her even more. It seemed to me that the whole crowd rushed at me, and I began to beat even harder ... But as it turned out, two grown guys tried to tear me away from one side of her, and two more tried to pull her out of my hands on the other side. Pulled out. I backed off. I was sick. In the mouth it was as if sprinkled with sand. I don’t understand ... either I’m standing, or I’m falling ... And the words of my friend: “You are great. Just please don't fall, stop. After this, no one will touch you. Just stop, don't fall. ”

That girl then hid the beating on her face for a long time with her hair ... I don't like fights, but I had no choice. Although for some time I just wanted to kill her, there was a feeling of incompleteness ... but they dragged me away ... Nobody else touched me in my city.

Perhaps it's time to move on to suicide attempts.

I don't remember exactly when I did the first ...

Maybe I was 13-14 years old.

And the reason was a quarrel with my mother. A gold chain with a cross has disappeared from the house. Mom blamed my friends who came to visit, which I denied. And she replied: "If these were not your friends, then you yourself stole her and spent the money on some kind of entertainment." I couldn't believe my ears. Accuse me of stealing from my own mother, who gives me money, feeds me and clothe me. Living with which, I return home with fear, if only there would not be another scandal. And then - to steal the chain, knowing in advance how it will turn out to me?

I still remember a lump in my throat for this accusation. And I thought, if you think of me that way, then I shouldn't live on.

She took a first-aid kit and collected a handful (removed to satisfy Rospotrebnadzor - ed.), 40 pieces. She went to the mirror, peered into her tear-stained eyes for a long, long time, swallowing offense. I said goodbye to myself and drank. I went to bed with complete confidence that I would never wake up. But the next morning I woke up as if nothing had happened.

And I remembered my vision, which was even before that, at the age of 11. She was lying on the bed, either falling asleep, or just thinking about something. Now I don't even remember if my eyes were open. I heard a voice, a woman's, but something inside me knew that it was not the voice of a person, but of a being much higher. In addition to the voice, a ball of fire was spinning in front of my eyes. And the voice said, “Why are you chasing death? There is something small and good in you, live for this, remember this. " I still don't understand what the voice was talking about.

The second attempt was in ninth grade. I was 15. And this non-reciprocal love, just for the guy who was in the fight, in which I did not let myself be offended.

At this point, I already understood which ones (deleted to satisfy Rospotrebnadzor - ed.) You need to drink and in what quantity exactly, so as not to stay alive. Houses have always been strong (deleted - ed.) Freely available to them. As I said, my mother is a doctor. And this time the target was (deleted - ed.). I will not write which ones, this is useless here.

The reason for the second suicide attempt was not only him. He was the impetus, the catalyst, like all the other alleged reasons that followed. And I understood that. And I knew that having solved one problem, my life would not change. I already knew for sure that I did not want to live.

In one room there is an old blind grandmother who sees nothing and suspects nothing. I'm in the other room. Mom is on duty. I have a whole night at my disposal, and this time is enough for my heart to stop and in the morning they found me cold. In my hands there are 5 plates of 10 (deleted - ed.) In each, I take out the first 10 and wash it down ... I start to open the second 10 ... Phone call. This is a friend. I broke down and said goodbye to her. She understood what was the matter and tried to speak to me and pass the time. She even asked this guy to call me. And he called. He just kept silent on the phone ... And with this silence I fell asleep from 10 drunk (deleted - ed.) ...

Mom came the next day. I understood what was the matter. She lifted me up with screams and another scandal. To which I jumped up and ran to my grandmother's room, in which there was no grandmother (she tried to calm her mother), locked the door and fell asleep. Nobody touched me for more than a day ... They knocked, tried to open the door. I didn’t wake up, I woke up from screams and knocks that it was time to open the door, I opened it. But I was not yet in the consciousness of an adequate person.

Mom took me to the hospital. There is flushing, droppers, a sense of shame, self-loathing. Then the ridicule of everyone, my attempt was spread by rumors from my own friends. They came to me at the hospital, but it seemed to me that they came to see it more as a spectacle, and not for sympathy.

I often (deleted - ed.) My hands, by the age of 22 I had already moved to my feet so that they would not notice at work (deleted - ed.).

It discharged me. I liked hurting myself, I liked the blood.

At 19 was the most difficult period. I missed two years of my life because everything was fine ... only two years out of 23. I loved and it was mutual. This love was accompanied by dissociative drugs, entertainment, study, work, etc. I don’t want to talk about it in detail. We broke up ... and this is the end.

Six months after parting, I tried to live as if nothing had happened, gritting my teeth in pain about the loss of the person who loved me so much and whom I loved. Who gave me more love in two years than his own mother can give in a lifetime ...

Six months of endless anxiety. A cat sits in every corner of my chest and tears me apart from the inside every second of these six months. Nightmares. I wake up and scream from the horror of what I saw, severed legs, arms, heads in dreams. Constant killings. In my dreams, you could shoot a horror movie. There are always creepy pictures in front of my eyes. I called them slideshows. You close your eyes and away we go. Monsters, people, strange creatures ... faces, evil smiles ... it was maddening.

I turned to a psychiatrist for help. I was offered to go to the examination for two weeks. I called my mother and told her everything. In response, another scandal and misunderstanding. “You are a creature, I give you that kind of money. You study and invent diseases for yourself. Go to work, you brute, and everything will pass !!! If you miss school and go to the hospital, you can forget about my help! "

I didn't go to bed. She gritted her teeth and tried to continue studying ... (deleted - ed.) Her hands, somehow letting her demons out ... Serious heart problems began, an ambulance was called for me right at school. And all as one sent me after the cardiologist to the neurologist, finding out my condition. And the neurologist is already going to the psychiatrist. But I needed hospitalization, but I could not, otherwise again a quarrel with my mother ... Although I no longer studied. I could not study, my hands were shaking, my pupils were constantly dilated (I had not yet taken antidepressants at that time). It was like I was under high voltage, like a bare wire - touch it and I will be torn to pieces.

And so it happened. All this state was accompanied by my friend ... and then he was just scared to look at everything and he left ... The sight was really terrible ... I cut myself, sprinkling salt into the wound and rubbed it to make it more painful, but if only to drown out the alarm inside, if only the cats in the corners of my soul disappeared for at least an hour ...

My eyes frightened my friend. To be honest, they scared me too. Dilated pupils 24 hours a day. The eyes are huge, so angry, unhappy and at the same time devastated from the struggle with themselves. A malicious smile through tears ... I will die anyway ... I will leave ... I will kill myself.

The friend could not stand it and left ...

That evening I asked him for a favor to go with me to the cemetery to bury himself.

I woke up in the morning with the thought that I must leave in the cemetery that part of myself that wants to die. There was still a part in me that wanted to live and was afraid of death. This part is always with me.

We're going. I have been choosing a place for a long time and now I have found it. In the morning there was a ritual that had come to mind in my head (I don’t know where, I already woke up with this thought). (The description of the perfect ceremony was deleted by the editors.) The first two hours there was some kind of euphoria, a feeling of freedom. We quietly parted with a friend, and I went home.

An hour or two later, I was replaced. I took a razor and cut my hand in four places. A lot, a lot of blood. I am sitting in a pool of my own blood (exactly as I imagined it months earlier) covered in blood, but in euphoria ... I do not feel pain, nothing ... like a child in a heap of toys. I smeared myself with my blood and laughed ... It was hysterical. The friend returned. He tried to call an ambulance. I did not allow, I said that I would just run away and then you would find my body on the street. He just bandaged me, stopped the blood ... all night.

In the morning I came to my senses. I don't remember much, but, according to his stories, I sat, swayed, looking at my hand and repeating the same thing - “I want my hand to be the same. And we went to the emergency room to sew it up. 20 stitches. Severed tendons that healed for a very long time and ached with pain ...

Then I called my mother, and I begged her permission to go to the hospital, because I understood that the one who did this yesterday could return to me at any minute.

Hospital, three months rehabilitation, antidepressants, tranquilizers, psychologists. medical consultation ...

I came out from there with almost no symptoms. But all thoughts remained inside.

Two years later, another attempt ... Two years of struggle with depression to no avail, and again a push ... And again an attempt ... After 6 hours they found ... resuscitation, without talking, without the consent of the psychiatric hospital, there was a second attempt, did not have time ... Stopped. came to herself after three days ... And that's it ... and emptiness ... terrible emptiness ...

I don't want to die anymore. My darker part of me still paints pictures of death in my head, every day ... but I'm used to it. I almost ignore it ....

But I am no more. After the last time, something turned over inside. Something or someone in me who knew how to love, suffer, feel pain or pleasure, left me. Now I do not know what will happen next. I just do not see my future for the next six months ... And even going forward, making my dreams come true ... and I do it on the machine ... I do not feel the taste of victory over death, over myself. Nothing is fun. In the struggle, I lost a very important part of myself. The part that was responsible for feelings and emotions. Who had a chance to go through everything and be happy. And now I'm just a piece of meat, with scars and memories. The girl who wanted to live was tired of the endless struggle ... She gave up ... she left ... taking everything with her. And without her, I'm nothing. I won't even be able to make the decision to leave or stay.

It is better to feel pain than not to feel anything.

Don't try to kill yourself. You can do it, but you will stay here ... Even in a more terrible state of mind than it was when you decided to end everything.

Mama. Two syllables, four letters. But how many songs, warm words and stories are in these letters. How much care or ... suffering?

We are used to thinking that motherhood is a kind of image that is inevitably associated with love and tenderness. The very word "mother" in the minds of many has become a kind of metaphor for care and affection. As it turns out, not everyone has such associations. You will be surprised, but this is not at all about children from disadvantaged families. We are talking about girls who had a completely normal childhood, a complete family, went to a good school. But their childhood is normal from the point of view of meeting material needs, but at the same time not spiritual. Now we are talking about those daughters whom their mothers never loved.

Unloved daughter - how is it?

The mother does not love her daughter - such a wording hurts the ear. This is no accident. It seems that this situation is unacceptable in the average family. As it turned out, not everything is so simple. Many daughters live in such conditions all their lives, being afraid to say to someone out loud: “Mom never loved me”. They hide it: in childhood - they come up with stories, in adulthood - they try to avoid the parental theme.

When the mother does not love her daughter, this is reflected in the entire further development of the girl, her formation, her personality, fears and relationships with people.

As a rule, “dislike” is expressed in the absolute emotional detachment of the mother from the child and in the regular moral pressure on the child. Sometimes it can even be characterized as emotional abuse of the girl. How does this relationship manifest itself?

A logical question: "Why doesn't mom love me?"

Often mothers are totally indifferent to children. Yes, they can feed them, give them shelter and education. However, at the same time, the connection between the child and the mother, which is necessary for a little girl, may be completely absent (here we mean exactly that model of relationship when a daughter can calmly trust her mother and receive support from her, sincere empathy for children's or adolescent problems). But, as a rule, on the part of this kind of indifference can be completely invisible.

For example, a mother publicly praises her daughter and brags about her successes, but this praise is the usual hypocrisy. When the conventional “audience” disappears, the mother not only pays no attention to her daughter's success, but also constantly lowers her self-esteem when communicating face-to-face. An unloved daughter becomes a victim who, from a very young age, perceives the world through the prism of maternal indifference or maternal cruelty.

Let's consider a very simple and at the same time life example. While one girl brings home a “four” in her diary, the mother can cheer her up, instilling in her daughter the hope that the next time the mark will definitely be higher. In another family, a similar situation may end in a scandal, they say, "again brought home four points, not five!" There are also options when the mother is, in principle, indifferent to how the child learns. Constant negativity, like regular indifference, leaves an indelible imprint on the further destinies of the daughters and their own future families.

“Mom never loved me”: Unloved daughter and her adult life

"What if my mom doesn't love me?" Is a question that many girls ask themselves too late. Often it comes into their heads even when the period of cohabitation with their parents is far behind. But it was he who formed the thinking of a person over the course of many years.

As a result, already adult girls get a whole bunch of psychological problems based on the emotional trauma they received earlier.

Once the question that arose in my head "Why doesn't my mother love me?" develops into a life position “Nobody loves or loved me at all”.

Is it worth talking about the influence of such a worldview on relations with the opposite sex and with society as a whole? Maternal love lost in childhood leads unloved daughters to:

1. Lack of confidence in yourself and in your abilities. Because of what a girl or woman simply does not understand that she can be loved by someone.
2. Distrust of others. Can you be happy when you can't trust anyone?
3. Failure to soberly assess their merits and competitiveness. This affects not only communication and a healthy life in society in general, but also a career and area of ​​interest in particular.
4. The perception of everything is too close to heart. An extremely undesirable quality for any person who wants to achieve success in any field of life. The list goes on and on.

What if my mom doesn't love me?

It is unlikely that a daughter can find a satisfying answer to the question of why her mother does not love her. And she is looking for him in herself:

• “Something is wrong with me”,
• “I'm not good enough”
• “I’m bothering my mom.”

Of course, this approach will only lead to even deeper immersion in problems and lower self-esteem and self-confidence. But even having found the answer, it is difficult to radically change the situation. However, you can look at everything from the outside.

Yes, parents, like the country, are not chosen. And you can't force love. But you can qualitatively change your own attitude towards everything that happens in the family. If you are the same girl who has learned all the “charms” of such an attitude on yourself, you simply have to carefully work out the picture of the world that was created in your mind. It is worth understanding that not all people are friendly to you solely out of self-interest and not everyone should be suspected of insincerity. It is not easy. Some may not even accept the fact that they are valuable to someone. Perhaps, for a reassessment of values, it is worth asking for - this will certainly help to improve life and attitude towards other people. The main thing to remember is that you yourself will become a mother. And a sincere manifestation of love for your own child is the best thing that you can do for him.

Do not strive to please your mother, especially if over the years of living with her you have realized that any of your behavior is likely to be perceived indifferently at best, and at worst - habitual criticism. Growing up without maternal love is difficult. But it is even more difficult to force yourself to change your pattern of behavior. Even if your mom never loved you, she is worthy of respect for your upbringing, but not constant worries. Your task is to set yourself up to overcome ingrained scenarios and increase your own value in your eyes. Many unloved daughters were able to improve their lives as they matured. And you can if you understand the root cause of your psychological problems. And it is hidden just in your question: “Why doesn't my mother love me?”.