My Mom Hated Me

During the process of growth I wanted to get rid of the terrible torture I was abused and I was forced to do every day since I was a child. My mother hates me, she is not shy. She will make me worse as if it gave her sick sick pleasure and destroyed my fragile, growing self. Of course, I grow to a person without ambition and future goals. This is because I concentrate on the idea that I will do my best. I just want to be free anywhere, anywhere, it does not matter to me.

For example, the belief that I learned from my childhood story is "I do not care" and "My mother hates me". But are they real? My mother scolded me not because she did not think I was important, she washed her clothes. Even today, about washing. Therefore, when I interfered her in the midst of her mission, she thought it was a threat to her role as a mother, which caused her to react violently. She is not mindful about me, she is just doing housework as a member of a good mother, and I realize that my immediate needs should be given priority over washing not.

Please let me tell you my story before you hate this option. I did not grow up privileged. My father is the first generation of immigrants from India. He is an engineer and a computer worker and has been involved in two jobs to attend college. My mother is a nurse. I grew up in a three-story house on the outskirts of New Haven, Connecticut, and my parents still live there. In short, I am an otaku. I play soccer with the violin, but academic society gives priority to everything. I am very concerned about homework and grades. I sat down in front of the class, I attended, I studied the exam, and I worked hard in order to study the thesis. I did not attend the party. I am the most popular kid at school. Okay, the last one is a lie (just let you pay attention). I graduated from the whole class and I studied at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

For me, my mother is always super protected - how dare you are - you want to go out - you need to hate me, and my father recommends me to go out. When I was young, I could not bear mothers, so I never took a walk with my friends nor left home. Elementary or junior high school, whenever someone asks if they want to do something by themselves, ask my mother and ask me not to go. After that, I ceased trying and my friend stopped asking if I could do something (I never did it)