How To Live In Peace With Your Mother

I was never one of those girls who enjoyed playing dress-up with my mom when I was a kid. My memories of my childhood with her are dotted with mental scenes of screaming, tears and even hatred. Not kind.

I was an only child to older parents. The energy my dad used to spend on spoiling my mom transferred to me the moment he laid eyes on me, and she became filled with jealousy. This wasn’t a hazy memory. My mother spat these words to my face when I was 12 years old during one of our frequent fights.

So from the time I was born until I turned 45, my mother and I were constantly at each others’ throats. We never agreed on anything. But my father’s illness changed everything. He suffered from Alzheimer’s disease and died after a 10-year battle. My husband and I took care of mom from that time until her death five years later.