A Word of Hope for Difficult Mother-Daughter Relationships
Our long road from conflict to unbreakable bond
There wasn’t a single day from 1988 to 1998 where my mother and I didn’t fight. Thinking back now, I can remember her crying after so many of those arguments. At the time, part of me wanted to rush in, to hug her, to tell her how sorry I was. But I turned away, leaving her alone with the idea that her daughter hated her.
That was her greatest fear. That I hated her. She had two boys before me, and when she found out she was having a girl, she was terrified. My mom’s story isn’t mine to tell, but I can say this: she wanted more than anything to be a wonderful mother to a daughter. I did anything but make that simple for her.
I was not an easy child. I had raging ADHD, though back then it barely had a name, let alone a diagnosis. Thanks to two parents who refused to give up on me, I became one of the first children studied and treated for it in North Carolina. They knew something was off and chased every specialist they could find in search of an answer.
At school, I was always failing. Yet at home, I devoured Hemingway at twelve, Hermann Hesse at thirteen, and everything Walt Whitman wrote by fourteen. I did math for fun and begged to volunteer at hospitals and vet clinics, dreaming of becoming a doctor. All that passion for literature and science—and still, I couldn’t pass a single test. Add a generous dose of social awkwardness, and it’s no wonder we were all exhausted.
Without two parents who saw my potential and fought for it, I might’ve amounted to nothing. They refused to give up on me or my future. My God, I wish every child had parents like that. But at the time, I hated them for it. I just wanted to be left alone to fail.
However, the classroom was only the beginning of the battle.