What do you do when finding common ground with your mom seems impossible, leading to endless arguments and misunderstandings?
It’s time to share my story, to put my thoughts on paper—perhaps this will bring me some peace. I’m an ordinary woman, just over thirty, married for several years now. My husband and I rent a flat in bustling London, both working and trying to build our lives, and overall, we’re happy. We don’t have children yet—decided to wait and enjoy our time together. My mom, Valerie Smith, is over 65 and has been a widow for nearly three years since dad passed away.
Dad meant everything to me—a person I trusted completely and could talk to about anything. We spent wonderful times together, and his departure left a void in my heart that nothing can fill. My relationship with mom has always been warm but not without its rough patches—arguments flared up like matches, often leaving a bitter aftertaste. I have an older sister, Claire, who lives with mom in our old house outside of London, but she’s been away on business for the past three months, leaving mom alone.
My job is incredibly stressful, and my nerves are frayed. I prefer texting over long phone calls—it’s just easier and more peaceful. However, mom calls several times a day, and each call feels like a trial. A few weeks ago, I mustered the courage to tell her directly: “Mom, I’m tired of hearing only the negative; can we talk about something good?” I understand her—being alone is hard, especially financially, and it breaks my heart. To help her out, I found her a part-time job looking after her sister’s kids and working part-time at an office. Yet, our conversations still revolve around her job or endless complaints about life. It drains me completely, and I asked her to call less often and send messages instead. She complied—for a few days. Then everything went back to how it was, as if I hadn’t said a word.
I tried to explain: “Mom, I have my own family, my own life; I’m married.” Her response hit me like a punch: “I should always come first for you.” I was taken aback. Her words echoed in my head, and I was boiling inside from the hurt. I said my husband also needed my time, that I couldn’t split myself into pieces, but she didn’t listen. Conversations inevitably led to whining, and I reminded her: “I’ve done everything I can to help you.” She suddenly blurted: “You’re not the only child helping your parents! My friends’ children buy them cars and send money!” It was like a stab to my heart. Two years ago, I saved up for a prosthetic for her, denying myself and my husband everything. We couldn’t even afford a car then, and I saved every penny so mom wouldn’t feel worse after dad’s death. And that’s the gratitude I get.
I crave even a little silence, rest, a breath of freedom. I have a wonderful husband, Sam—quiet, kind, and patient. But even he has started getting annoyed by these calls; I see him frown when the phone rings again. And mom? She’s offended and says it’s him who’s turning me against her. That was the final straw. It’s more complicated than it seems. Until I was 18, mom and I lived like cat and dog—she yelled, I cried, childhood was full of hurt and pain. Now I try to build a connection with her, extend a hand, but I always hit a wall. She doesn’t hear me, refuses to listen, and I’m drowning in this powerlessness.
I’m exhausted from the arguments, from this cycle of misunderstanding. My heart aches, my soul is weary, and I see no way out. Please, give me advice—how do I connect with her? How do I stop this storm that’s destroying us both? I want peace but don’t know where to find it.
