How My Relationship with My Mom Shaped Me

Growing up, my relationship with my mom was complicated. She loved me in the ways she knew how, but she was also carrying her own wounds—pain from her past that affected how she could show up for me. There were times I needed comfort and guidance that she couldn’t give, not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t have the tools or healing herself. That left me feeling unseen, alone, and responsible for navigating my own survival. I learned early that I couldn’t rely on anyone else to keep me safe emotionally, and that lesson stayed with me for a long time. At first, this created distance between us. I pushed her away, rebelled, and sometimes judged her for what she couldn’t give. I carried anger and resentment alongside the love I had for her. There were moments of connection, yes, but they were often overshadowed by fear, misunderstanding, or her own struggles. Over time, I began to see her not just as my mom, but as a person who had endured her own pain. That perspective changed everything. I realized that some of the patterns I had—anger, distrust, fear—weren’t just mine. They were generational, inherited from a woman who survived in her own ways, just like I was learning to do. Our relationship taught me resilience. It taught me compassion, not just for her, but for myself. I learned that people can love deeply yet still be broken, and that doesn’t make your pain any less real—but it does give you the power to respond differently. As I grew and began to heal, I noticed shifts in our connection. Conversations became more honest. Moments of vulnerability became safer. Boundaries became clearer. Faith gave me the courage to forgive, to understand, and to release the weight of blame—both hers and mine. Today, my relationship with my mom is still evolving. We still have moments of tension and misunderstanding, but there is also love, respect, and mutual growth. Her experiences shaped my emotional landscape, my survival instincts, and my journey toward transformation—but they no longer define me. I’ve learned to take what I need from our relationship and leave the rest behind. My relationship with my mom showed me that love and pain can coexist, and that understanding the person behind the parent is key to breaking generational patterns and healing your own life.