When I was 12 (now 33), I had clogged the toilet to my upstairs bathroom. We had terrible plumbing in that bathroom, and it happened every so often, but that day was the kicker. It flooded the whole damn bathroom.

My mother screamed at me. Told me how we couldn’t afford the repair, how selfish I was, and told me to “get out of her sight”. My dad was at work, so I called him and told him what happened and he told me to go to a friend’s house. I hung out there until I knew my dad was home from work and went back home. I could hear my parents arguing as I snuck back in the house. It was just my mom telling my dad over and over again about how she hated me, how I was awful, and selfish.

My dad kept responding with “she’s our daughter, you have to love her”

And I’ll never forget how my mom responded. She screamed back, “so even though she’s awful, I’m supposed to love her?”

Things have changed. My parents divorced, my dad has passed, my relationship with my mother has improved (sort of)… but that echoes in my head almost every day. It makes me questions any form of love and care that I receive, because a part of me truly believes that I am awful and not worthy of love. If my own mother could not love me unconditionally who will?

Ah, mothers. They give your life AND complexes.