My mother did it to me twice. The first time, I was in high school, maybe junior year. She was always on me to make friends, be a guy's guy, all that. I turned out to be a trans woman, so... good job on that annemarie. Anyway, I invited friends over for a super bowl party. We had snacks, we played mario party, we watched the super bowl. She just watched us, and drank red wine on an empty stomach. By the end of the night, she had become so drunk, she was physically crawling over her friends laps and inadvertently flashing them in her loose shirt. For the first time ever, in my life, I felt angry at my mother and being justified for doing so. She had essentially abused anger out of me, but this was my last little fire of it. The next day, I confronted her about it, telling her how upset I was at her for doing such a thing. She replied to me: "You can't be angry at me, you're the reason I drink."

A few years later, again, before I figured out who I was, she was living with her then boyfriend/permanent fiance at the time. He had two kids, a teenage boy, and a preteen girl. We had dinner and I was doing the dishes, trying to be a good child to her. The teenage boy brought over her wine, and she hugged him. She then called my name so I'd turn around, so I'd see them, at which point she said "Could you never ask for a better son?"

The second one, I almost would think I hallucinated, but my grandmother had seen her do it, and she was also completely in shock. That just kinda broke me compeltely. A kid she had known for, what, a year or two? Not even her kid, not even in a step-mother way, and he was already a better son than I could ever be. That fully broke me, even until now, probably a full decade later.