My mother and I will never get along well - here's why

Many of my posts bring up the issue between my mother and I. It's not really a petty issue any more.

Well, I've always had a bit of issue with my mother. Recently, as the years went by, she became more and more unstable. I became more and more depressed. The year of 2010 was a pretty depressed year. I almost slid into clinical depression, but what the fuck, I didn't, so let's just skip right over that. Point is, having a pretty nice mother turn into an irrational bitch is not something that I was ready to deal with.

I also think that she became more and more religious. In fact, my whole family (with the exception of myself) became more and more religious. They went to church, prayed, offered money, etc. Well, to me, it was more like wasting time and money and effort. They could have had a bit of lie in on Sunday. Instead they went to church and listened to repetitive sermons and horrible analogies that didn't help the pastor's case at all (but none of the church-goers ever seem to realise it, sigh).

Today I'm here to talk about one particular issue in the bloody fucking SEA of issues I have with my mother. That is: my mother really likes to accuse me of lying. (Or maybe two things. My mother also likes to insult things that I like.)

Now, I can't really fault her for that. I am actually quite a liar, but if only she'd let me go out with my classmates, I wouldn't have had to lie. If only she'd given me a bit more money instead of giving me the bare minimum necessary to feed myself, I wouldn't have had to lie.

At the tender age of twelve, all I actually wanted was for her to be nice to my friends instead of insulting everyone I liked. (Behind their backs, of course. She insulted them to my face and expected me to agree with her.) Also I wanted like five bucks of emergency money in my wallet just in case. I was a bit paranoid back then too.

(Did I talk about the time during primary school when my parents confiscated my phone and gave me just enough money to buy a meal a day at school? I forgot my bus card and couldn't contact anyone. I didn't even have enough coins for the ride home. I spent an hour panicking and then just told the bus driver that I didn't have money. Point is, my parents don't actually think things through. This is proven by how they gave me back my phone immediately after that incident.)

Now, even back then, my mother liked to tell me that I was lying to her, even when I wasn't. It would be over the stupidest things - homework, friends, where I put something... Etc. You know, inane little things. She'd claim that I was lying and that I was keeping things from her.

(Side note: I think I found the source of my paranoia??)

Sometimes it'd be joking, sometime it'd be serious, but whenever she randomly accused me of lying, it set my teeth on edge. Damn, I wanted to throw things at her stupid head. But I didn't, of course. I didn't want to hurt her, and I didn't want to break anything that would cost money to repair.

(Well but she evidently didn't feel the same way. Did I tell you about the time when she smashed a few of my things? Hit me a few times? With coat hangers? Or just her hands - that was pretty painful and left quite a few bruises.)

Basically - if she thought that everything I said was a lie, then she shouldn't be talking to me. During a certain period of time she would ask me a question, and whatever I said, she'd claim that it was a lie. It was so bloody irritating. She was my mother. She wasn't supposed to accuse me without basis for simple things.

She actually made me quite anxious. During that time she also started insulting things I liked. Like Japanese music. She'd say it was all horrible without even listening to it. She said my taste in books were bad. The clothes I picked out didn't look nice. The way I tied my hair was atrocious. My friends were lying little bastards.

Chinese can be a very creative language sometimes. (My mother speaks chinese exclusively.) Also quite a hurtful language.

I think, maybe, that she gave me anxiety issues. To this day, when I go outside, I feel like my clothes don't fit me, I look horrible, and generally I don't feel very comfortable with people looking at me. That's why I prefer going out with friends. If they said my clothes looked horrible, they'd also probably tell me what would look better. Instead of just leaving it at the insult, like my mother.

All right, back to the lying thing. The truth is, a large majority of the time, I wasn't even lying to her. It really hurt me when she accused me of lying. I was twelve. I barely even talked to boys. I was completely unprepared for my own mother being a paranoid bitch towards me. I didn't like it. I wanted my mother to hug me (actually, she doesn't hug me, and she doesn't compliment me either). Point is, I wanted her to be nice again.

Too bad! She became even bitchier and I became more depressed. When I came out of depression I decided that she was a stupid bitch and I wasn't going to let her make me cry any more. (That was a failure, by the way. Don't underestimate how painful your mother can make your life.) But still. After that I got over the hurt considerably faster than before.

That was when I was thirteen.

I thought she was better for a while. I thought she was going to be a nice, okay-ish, semi-normal sort of mother again. I thought I could go back to joking with her. (Shopping with her is still excruciatingly painful. I would go with my father 10/10 my father knows my taste in clothes better than her, and he hasn't gone shopping with me since I was five.)

Okay, point is: my mother spends a hell lot of time with me, but she doesn't know me as well as my father, whom I maybe see for two hours every night.

Anyway, turns out that she's becoming a bit unhinged lately again. Like, ever since two months ago. Today she kind of accused me of keeping things from her. Today she said that she couldn't have said that without some basis for it. And when I proved that she could ("Dad, you're keeping things from me" - I had no basis for that) she said that she doesn't want to tell me the basis for her accusation.

(Edit: I think I went off topic right about here. I think.)

This was right after I found out that there was a bastard reporting my facebook activities to my parents. The religious misguided do-gooder kind of person, I guess. I'm fine with keeping religion the FUCK out of my relationship with my parents, but apparently my parents aren't okay with that.

My dad said that until I was of age, I would still have to go to church with them. The age for reaffirming your devotion to Christ (I was baptized young, and baptized children had to confirm it again) in this church was fifteen. I said I didn't want to reaffirm some bloody thing that was forced upon me at the age where all I wanted was to be the same as my friends. In fact, I had a screaming match with my parents a few months before I turned fourteen. I believe I said these exact words: "I don't believe in your god."

They tried to prod me into going to church with them every bloody Sunday until I turned fifteen. My mother would get angry and throw books up at me (I slept in the top bunk of a double decker, back then) regardless of whether they hit me or not.

Back to the issue at hand: my parents are some of the most naively blind Christians ever. They think Christianity is da shit and never questioned it after they were introduced to it at the age of thirty. Or something. Their point-blank refusal to examine their faith is

REALLY

FUCKING

FRUSTRATING

and sometimes I just wanted to hit myself on the head a few times, just so that I can pass out and escape the tedious, circular arguments.

Anyway, they're the naively blind sort of Christians, but sometimes my mother is just a bitch, plain and simple. She'd talk to me about my grades and god and facebook and religion

AND

basically all she wanted to say was that my grades should be higher. Same with my father. They can't simplify to save their life.

I have a headache.

I really hate people who can't look at themselves objectively. People who are content swimming in circles inside their own brain. Like my mother.

I'd like to just end this post now.

In summary, my mother makes me feel like horseshit, and I'd rather eat twenty lemons than spend a minute with her.

Also sometimes I look up stories from kids who are actually abused, and I tell myself that "hey this ain't so bad, they deal with worse, I can get through this shit". Except sometimes my parents kind of just don't care, and it doesn't matter how much better my life is, I just want to curl up and cry.

This is Asia. Family problems stay in the family. You ignore them until you can move out. No one will call your bloody hotlines. Your friends will be really nice and make you feel a lot better, but that's about it.

I'm tired of being put down all the time. There's a limit to much verbal abuse one can endure from one's own mother. I'm not going to cut and I'm not going to kill myself. But I AM going to get very angry, and very depressed. And that is not very nice.