As I grow older, I realize I’m not alone in never truly knowing what unconditional love was from my mom. She had me at 17, and her life was changed… but not really all at the same time. Sure, she was a mother, but she wasn’t a mom. She was a mom when it was convenient for her. Not to say she didn’t physically take care of me, but there was no emotional or mental love. You know, I’m 30, and I don’t even know the last time I hugged my mother. In the past 5 years, I’ve had to remove her from my life, on and off, because of this GROSS guilt I have because “she’s still your mother.”

Idk. I could write a series about my life, but I can’t be the one who exposes her like that. I don’t know why I care so much. I really can’t even stand to look at her.

Anyways, I’m just babbling at this point. My end comment is this - I hate her for making me the way I am today, and I hate her for not loving me like a mom should.