These people share the meanest thing their mom ever told them that they will never get over.
How Could She Say That?
Kamira/Shutterstock
“I lived with my egg-donor, as I like to call her, until about the age of 13. Emotional and physical abuse at her manipulative hands was common. But this day, in particular, was a turning point for me.
We live in a bayside area and the road that leads into the town/shopping central area curves around the water on the cliff-face. One particular morning, we were having some sort of argument and she said, rather offhandedly, as she pointed out to the upcoming sharp bend in the road, ‘I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I could drive right off the edge and you would be dead.’
Those words are burned into my mind. I moved to my father’s home when I was 14, and my sister followed me two years later. Neither of us has had contact with our mother in a number of years. But there have been a number of incidents in our state recently where parents have purposefully drowned their children by driving their cars into waterways/off bridges. Every time I hear about it, I go cold and my skin starts to shake. How close did my sister and I escape that fate?”
He Will Never Love Her
Ollyy/Shutterstock
“I met my ‘mother’ for the first time when I was 15 years old. Until then, I lived only with my dad who told me bits and pieces about her, but never gave me a complete image of her. He told me that she was a dropout who experimented with various illegal substances and that I was conceived under the influence. Other than that, he avoided talking about her altogether, and it was clear that he didn’t like her.
It turned out, my dad kept a lot of records secret, including her contact information. I found it while looking for my birth certificate.
Long story short, I secretly contacted her without my dad knowing, and we agreed to meet at Starbucks.
Things started out okay, just stuff like ‘How’s school?’ and ‘What’s going on in your life?’ All that for that uncomfortable obligatory politeness. Then we started asking each other some real questions like, ‘Why did you carry me when you didn’t want me?’ (answer: religious family members) and ‘Do you like how your father is raising you?’ (answer: not sure).
As we treaded into deeper topics, things escalated because I wanted to fill in the holes, and she insisted that I didn’t need to know. Some other words were exchanged but one thing stuck in my mind to this day was this:
‘You’re nothing more than an abortion that never happened.’
All we exchanged were questions and harsh words. No ‘I love you’ or that sentimental Hallmark Channel bullcrap because it’s a lie and we both knew it.
I haven’t seen her since that day, and I’m still salty over our history, but overall it’s not the worst thing anyone’s said to me. It just happens to be one of the most memorable.
Whether she’s in my life or not doesn’t matter. Not everyone needs a mother anyway. I never loved that woman and I promise that I never will.”
She Will Never Forget The Two Times Her Mother Really Hurt Her
Kamira/Shutterstock
“I have two that I’ll never forget.
As a teenager and into my mid-20s, I suffered from debilitating depression. I still went to work and functioned, and most people thought I was okay. At 25, I was in an abusive relationship and was tired of being terrorized. After a particularly harsh struggle with my then-boyfriend (he choked me until blood came out of my ears and smashed a hole in a wall in my house with my head), I decided I couldn’t take it anymore, so I ate every pill in my house and followed it up with a ton of drinks.
My ‘boyfriend’ found me, called an ambulance, and I ended up in the ICU. All I wanted was my mom. I was miserable and was actually being terrorized in the hospital (although the nurses finally saw through my boyfriend’s facade and wouldn’t let him near me after two days). My mom was three hours away, at home. I called her and asked her if she could come and see me. I just wanted her. Her response? ‘I can’t come! I have plans. You can’t plan for suicide, Mary. You should have thought this through more thoroughly.’
The second one happened eight years later. I’d finally ditched the abusive boyfriends, found a great guy and married him. I had just given birth to my first child at 33 weeks gestation via emergency c-section. The hospital was understaffed because it was a few days before Christmas, and no one was available to wheel my broken body to the NICU to see my preemie daughter. I got to see her when she was first delivered, then got to see pictures on a digital camera, but had not been given the opportunity to touch or hold her.
My mom arrived about four hours after the birth (she had to dye her hair before setting out because she didn’t want to look bad in any pictures). She came into my hospital room, looked at me and said: ‘I got to hold your baby before you did!’ I was taken aback. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew that that hurt.
It was 18 hours before the hospital had the resources to take me to see my daughter. It was 18 hours before I was able to touch my baby. To this day, my mom denies saying either of the things I’ve written here, but those are things you don’t forget.
Oh yeah, my daughter cured my depression. She was then and is still a huge ray of light, and instead of having postpartum depression, I ended up with what I like to call postpartum elation.”
“I Just Want Peace”
Christy Thompson/Shutterstock
“My mom has been mean or rude to me on countless occasions, but one thing has stuck with me for years: ‘If your dad wasn’t here, I would have thrown you into a wall long ago.’
I had been getting up at night to watch over my dad because he had recently delved back into drinking again, and various other things. I noted his patterns and when he came home late. Sometimes I would sit with him and make him uncomfortable since he couldn’t drink openly in front of me. I would hide under the dining room table, winding my small body between chair legs, and sit for hours. I didn’t tell her anything because I wanted sufficient information before saying anything to her.
She would catch me sitting at the computer sometimes, and yell at me about what a piece of trash I was and that I was ruining things. What I was ruining, I don’t know. I generally worked on school things if I got up before he came home. I believe since she saw this and didn’t know the truth, it escalated situations with her to new levels. Hence, telling me she would have thrown me down the hall into a wall or taken away everything in my room, only leaving me a few pairs of clothes.
I still get yelled at today. I recently left a table a tad crooked and was told I can’t do anything right. The other day it was a towel on the bathroom floor that prompted her exploding on me. I get yelled at because I ‘spend too much time on the computer’ and such, despite it being part of my job, college, and what I love.
But it’s ok. One day I will leave her behind, and she will be left alone. I just want to obtain peace.”
“It Amazes Me That I’m Not Insane”
Ollyy/Shutterstock
“My mother. Sigh. There are so many things she said to me. Deeply hurtful. Emotionally shattering. Things that left deep scars. I’ve tried to forget them, but I can’t.
She told other people on multiple occasions right in front of me, ‘I never wanted any more children.’ (I have an older brother.)
‘If it weren’t for you, I could be on the road with your dad,’ (he was a truck driver at the time).
‘All these years, I waited for you to grow up and be my friend, and now look at you. You’re such a disappointment.’ (Mind you, I tried so hard to do everything I could to please my mom, but nothing was EVER good enough).
Constant comments about my physical attributes, calling me ‘pet names’ that emphasized how impossibly huge I was to her, such as ‘Super Wally,’ because I was a good six inches taller than her. I’m not even sure what that means to this day. But her remarks had me convinced that I was extremely unattractive, ungraceful, unworthy, ungrateful, evil, and a myriad of other attributes that if you knew me, would know are completely untrue.
She made me do ALL the housework, which was fine, I clean like a beast now, but she would claim she did it, telling my dad that I was worthless and hid out in my room all the time. She thought it was funny to call me ‘Cinderella’ because of this.
I remember on my 10th birthday she had written me a check for $20 in my birthday card, while we were on our way to the bank to cash it she became angry with me for no apparent reason. I didn’t know what was going on, but she tore up the check and threw the pieces in my face, telling me, ‘You don’t deserve a birthday present.’ I was crestfallen.
When I was five, I graduated from kindergarten, and they handed out plaques for our achievements in different subjects; mine was in handwriting/penmanship, not the noblest of subjects, but I was proud of myself. She saw another little girl who had around five awards and again told me, ‘If you’d have actually used your brain you could have had that many awards. You’re so stupid.’ This was 31 years ago and I remember it vividly.
There were many, many other things she said to me, like calling me a stupid brat every day.
Another incident when I was fifteen, my cousin had come to stay with us and was making advances at me, making me very uncomfortable. Yeah, gross. Anyways, I told my mother about it because it was freaking me out, and I had no idea how to deal with this behavior. She then proceeded to tell me, ‘If you don’t stop acting like a corner worker I’m going to send you to live with your grandparents.’ I was the one being threatened by someone and my mother attacked ME. She then put a lock on my bedroom door on the outside. Makes a lot of sense, right?
When I look back on my life with her, it amazes me that I’m not insane and that I lead a normal life, if not an amazing life. I have a wonderful husband who I’ve been married to for almost 18 years. I have four beautiful children whom I treat with respect, love and kindness. I have taken what she did to me and made sure I learned what NOT to do to my babies.
A little over three years ago, my mother died suddenly. She hadn’t been well, but it was still a shock. The effect it had on me still astounds me to this day. I loved my mom. Even through all the messed up stuff she did to me, the hateful, spiteful things she said and the manipulation, the physical abuse, (she punched me in the face, beat me with her fists, and once used a two inch belt leaving multiple bruises and welts among the many slaps and backhand smacks) the psychological torture she put me through, I still loved her and I was physically ill for some time after she passed away. My hair stopped growing for a solid year. It was months before I could feel emotions because I was just numb inside.
They say that time heals all wounds, but I think my wound is still raw because I can’t fix it. I always wished we could be close or that we could be friends. But it was like living with a jellyfish.
I’ve had dreams that she was alive, that she never died, and they were nightmares to me. What kind of person engenders those feelings in other human beings? I don’t wish the pain of my loss on my children, but I do not want to be a mother that my children are happier to be apart from.”
They Haven’t Spoken About What Happened
KieferPix/Shutterstock
“My mom has said some nasty things to me, but the worst was during my fifth pregnancy. I had miscarried my first at six weeks, then carried my second pregnancy to term. I miscarried my third pregnancy at ten weeks, then my fourth produced a baby girl. Naturally, I thought I would miscarry my fifth pregnancy, not to mention I had a lot of complications with my second pregnancy. Now, I’m in my first trimester and having complications again. I was terrified of losing yet another baby.
As an RN, I was working in a labor and delivery unit at the time. A coworker and I decided to pull the ultrasound machine into a room and have a peek at the baby. Or just see if we could see much. At ten weeks, I wasn’t expecting much, especially with the ‘romper room’ (piece of junk) ultrasound machine we had on the unit. But I was overjoyed to see a perfectly formed baby and a strong heartbeat! For those who don’t know, once you see or hear a heartbeat the chance of miscarriage drops drastically.
So being thrilled and relieved I couldn’t wait to tell my mom. I called her as soon as possible and said, ‘guess what I saw today?’
She asked, ‘what?’
I said ‘the baby! I saw a heartbeat!’
She said in a low, monotone voice, ‘Oh, it’s still there?’
My spirit was CRUSHED. I asked her, ‘where is it supposed to go?’ And hung up on her. We never spoke of the incident again. Knowing her, she would probably deny it ever happened, anyway.”
She Was Terribly Abused
altanaka/Shutterstock
“I used to think that every mother said these things to their kids.
1) ‘Where are you going? You look like a call girl.’ It was when I was heading out to meet my friends when I was around 17-19 years old. I think I was wearing shorts. Also, I got my permission to go out.
2) ‘No wonder you have no friends,’ she yelled that to my face in an argument days after I told her I have no friends at school, crying.
3) ‘Why don’t you get good grades like so-in-so?’ She yelled that to my face while caning me, who was balled up in a corner. Think I had trauma after that? Two months ago (more than 10 years later) when I was in the most stressful part of my life, I was woken up in a dream she was yelling to my face, ‘you are so useless.’ My boyfriend woke me up because I was crying in my sleep.
The worst was probably when I was 18. I had a ton of schoolwork and wanted to get some rest after a long day. She ordered me to practice my music theory because she paid so much for it. I refused to and said I would do it later. She went ahead and took all the books and burnt them in the yard.
She always comes back with ‘I’m so sorry. Mommy is very stressful at work. You have to understand me.’ Umm ok. Is that why I once had to let her put on her foundation on my hands and legs because she caned me too hard and I had marks all over my body? She was crying and saying ‘sorry’ nonstop, but the young me was just thinking, ‘What did I do to deserve this?’
After all this, she still tells me that I’m a terrible kid.”
She Completely Denies Saying This Terrible Thing
Photographee.eu/Shutterstock
“When I was about 41, my mother called me a loser right to my face.
At the time, I was unemployed, as I have often been. Due to depression and anxiety, I have always had tremendous difficulty finding and holding a job. I have rarely been able to make ends meet, let alone save any money.
For this reason, I’ve never married or had any children, but at least I’m not driving a dependent family into poverty, at any rate. My mother is ashamed of all of these failures on my part.
One day in 2007, my mother wanted to fix me up with an attractive friend of hers, a woman about my age who is a successful architect. Due to my unemployment and desperate financial situation, I declined, stating that it just wouldn’t work. I don’t know what my mother expected me to do under the circumstances, but in any event, she became infuriated at my refusal to call this woman. My mother, who is petite and ordinarily very mild-mannered, suddenly burst out:
‘Well, in any case, she wouldn’t want to go out with a loser like YOU!’
On a few occasions over the years, I’ve reminded my mother that she once said this to me. Invariably, she completely denies it.”
“It’s Going To Be There Forever”
Kamira/Shutterstock
“It wasn’t something that she said one time and one time only. It was something that she said every single time we played cards, board games, or charades. My mom would say, ‘you’re so stupid!’
I heard that almost every day of my life until I was 16. My mom was competitive and had a superb memory. I was not competitive, and my memory was average. Playing a game with my family was torture because if I didn’t play well, I would hear how stupid I was, and to avoid it, I had to go against my nature and be mean because my family played for blood. It was cutthroat.
The comments only stopped when my boyfriend (now husband) told my mom to stop saying that to me. She respected his intellect and figured she wanted to stay on his good side. She was also looking for a game buddy because everyone else having been burned out by her attitude.
I made myself play games with my kids, but never enjoyed it. Thank goodness my family doesn’t judge. My hubby did a lot to heal me, but I still imagine my mom telling me that I’m stupid in many situations. It’s going to be there forever.”
A Fractured Relationship
Asier Romero/Shutterstock
“I have many to choose from, but I will share two. The first happened during a five-year ‘hiatus’ with my mother, where I had enough of her toxic influence and just ended our relationship. During that time, I met someone, got engaged, and was about to be married. She heard this through the family grapevine and decided to call me up after five years.
I will never forget what she said. It was 6 am on a Sunday morning and the phone rang — I was still in bed. When I saw it was her, I was unsure if I should answer, but curiosity won out. She got right to the point — no ‘hi,’ no ‘good morning,’ nothing.
She said ‘Do you have a pencil?’
I sarcastically said, ‘of course, I ALWAYS answer the phone with a pencil just in case someone calls and asks.’
She commanded me to ‘get one.’ I pretended to get one. I got back on the phone after a moment and asked what I needed the pencil for. She said, ‘write this down.’ And proceeded to give me the name of a diet book. After five years of not speaking. And this is typical of her. I believe she was mentally ill. She then proceeded to ask a few questions about my future husband.
The second meanest thing was in the form of a letter. The letter was sent to all of her six children —all from the ages of 37 to 52. All of us had varying degrees of fractured relationships with her, except one who chose to stay in contact and cuss her out whenever she crossed a line. That was not a type of mother-daughter relationship I wanted, so I chose to have no contact. My sister in another state actually received the letter first and called me up to read her copy to me. I will never forget the first line. ‘Your father assaulted me, and in those days you married your assaulter.’
My father died when I was 13, and I am the youngest child. Our father was idolized by his children because he wasn’t crazy like my mother. He was not a perfect father but he did not do any of the crazy horrible things my mother did. So my mother decided she needed to shatter our memory of our long-dead father, not caring if she crushed her children or not.
I received my letter a few days later, and I have never opened it. According to my sister, it was two full pages, typed, and single-spaced — full of vitriol and lies. My cynical older sister had an answer for that first line about my father assaulting her, and having to marry him. My sister said, ‘You married him if you liked it.'”
Her Mother Doesn’t Value What She’s Achieved
Chepko Danil Vitalevich/Shutterstock
“I am Turkish by origin. My now-fiancé and I started dating in secondary school at 16 years old. My fiancé is Chinese. We are 25 now and just celebrated our nine-year anniversary last Monday.
I’m currently working on my graduation project, and will soon graduate as a mathematical engineer, specializing in programming. School and brain wise, I seem to be normal. But apart from that, I am a disappointment to my family.
You see, my friends all got married and had a kid, some have three. They had big weddings, found rich/upper-class husbands and own houses now. With zero effort.
I have been working since I was 15 and been paying my bills since I was 16. Yes, phone, insurance, school, books. I did have bills to pay. One evening, my mom looks at me and says:
‘What don’t you have what others have? You chose a poor man. Am I not happy, I can say I am. But extra money wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t expect my daughter to have a life like mine. Radical and standing for what you believe in, when others don’t study, don’t work but obtain everything. Why don’t you find a huge wedding important, and why don’t you claim kilos of gold for your wedding? You are willing to buy a small house, not get married if you can’t afford it and work hard for everything while everyone has it easy.’
It broke my heart. Up until now, I don’t understand why it is so important for a girl to get married and have money without doing anything from it. It hurts me that people can’t see beyond my gender and their expectations.
I am more than a girl. I chose the man I love with all my heart. I trust him, and we are happy. Yes, we are not average students. We don’t go out and party, we have money to help our parents and save for later. I don’t spend my full salary on outfits and all the garbage that I don’t need (no offense if you do). I will not have kilos of gold. I will pay for my own wedding dress and wedding, if and when I can. It will be small, everything will be below everything everyone had. My apartment will be small, and I will not have a fancy car to ride in. However, there are other things I did achieve. No one seems to value those things.
In my dad’s family, I will be the first out of all guys and girls to have a degree. I work in a research and development team, whereby I develop the state-of-art features and applications. I work more than 60 hours a week.
I know that a couple of years from now, I will come home to my hard-earned home and hold my husband on the couch I bought from the salary that I worked hard for. I will one day look at our children running with our dog through our living room and have peace in my heart, and a big smile on my face.
But for now, it hurts. It hurts that people think that I am less than others. For not demanding what they demand, and expect from life what they got. Because in my mother’s words: ‘Everyone’s children have husbands with well-paid jobs. They sit at home and have children. What does my daughter have? Nothing. An old car, no house, no children. Out of all the things she can get in her life, what does she get? A dog.'”
“Maybe That’s Why You Can’t Make Friends”
Lisa F. Young/Shutterstock
“We were walking around the supermarket, and somehow the topic of me being gay came up. My mother was saying things like, ‘don’t date anyone,’ and ‘make sure not to tell everyone, okay?’
So I asked her why I couldn’t tell people. ‘Well, you’re giving them a reason to laugh at you. Maybe that’s why you can’t make friends here.’
Wait, what? Mom, I have friends, and I guarantee you — no one hates me because I’m gay. I just sat in silence for a minute. Thanks, mom.”