"She's YOUR problem now!"

My mother and I have never been close. The older I get, the further apart we grow. She's very ugly towards anybody who is different from her, degrading anyone who is black, homosexual, has tattoos, mental disorders, is poor, addicted, atheist, agnostic, drives the wrong car - the list goes on. I fit into most of those categories, but I live a fully successful and happy life. 

At my wedding three years ago, my husband made a funny remark during our toast about my parents raising a "wild" girl. I laughed because it was cute. Then my mother, in front of everybody, replied, "She's YOUR problem now!" 

That was the only thing she said to either of us during our entire wedding. My husband's remark was teasing in a cute way. My mother's response, dripping with hatred, left the room a dead, awkward silence. 

I wish I could say that her frequent stabbing remarks don't affect me, but I would be lying. I can hardly do anything without hearing her voice inside my head, putting me down and reminding me that I'm just a "problem." 
 

"What the HELL did you do to your hair?!?!"

I got married really young, and it took me six years after our divorce to realize that it was an abusive relationship. 

One of the first hints was when I went to visit a loved one in Alabama without my husband. During the trip, I got my hair cut from shoulder-length to pageboy cut, and I absolutely adored it. I thought I was beautiful for the first time since my son was born.

I was gone for a full 10 days, and as I got off the Greyhound I heard my husband call to me. He didn't say, "Hi." He didn't say, "We missed you." He didn't say, "Welcome home."

All he said to me was, "What the HELL did you do to your hair?!?!"

The whole ride home he went on and on about how I shouldn't have cut my hair, how I didn't even talk to him about it first, how awful I looked with short hair, and how it made me look slutty. 
 

"You'll never have a boyfriend."

My mom would often show my sister how to put on makeup and dress nicely. I would sit on the bed, outside the closed door, and listen. One day, I finally got up the nerve to ask them, "Hey, could you guys show me how to do that sometime?" My mom looked at me like I was crazy, and my sister asked, "Why should we? You'll never have a boyfriend." 

This was just another moment in a long list of times they had diminished me. But somehow, I didn't believe them. I mean, I thought it was possible that I might not be very attractive, but I thought that there was somebody for everybody, right?

I met my husband when I was 29. We married when I was 32. I'm 60 now. Our life together has been like a romance novel. He's a wonderful, amazing, lovely man with a Scottish accent and a kind heart. We've had our share of hard times, but somehow we have laughed through it and hung on to each other. 

Everyone in my family acts amazed that I was the one that ended up with the wonderful, stable and happy marriage. They are all jealous of the daily love letters and the way he takes special care of me. 

What stuck with me was that even though those unkind words were spoken to me, I simply chose not to believe them. I did struggle with low self esteem a bit, but it didn't stop me from enjoying life! 

Harsh words lose their power when you just decide, "I'm not going to get angry. I'm just not going to believe that."
 

"How could she do that to you?"

My now-husband and I became pregnant with our son when I was 20 and he was 22. We were young and it wasn't ideal, but we loved each other, had been together for a year, and were already prepared to raise a family; it just happened a little earlier than we'd thought. 

My husband called his mother to tell her the news, and I sat very close to him, trying to hear her reaction. I never expected what came next: 

"How could she do that to you?" she asked. "Doesn't she know you can't afford it?" I stood up, but I could still hear her. "You do know that when she leaves you, you're going to have to pay her, right?" 

I don't even know what my husband said because I remember being so shocked and hurt that I walked out of the room and sat outside. 

My son is 8 now, and my husband and I have been together for a little over 10 years, married for 5, and bought our first home 2 years ago. We are still very much in love, and we are incredible parents.

In that whole time, my mother in law has said countless stupid and mean things to me. But this comment has always stuck with me and always will. 
 

"It's either him, or being alone forever."

Growing up, my mom and I would argue about my weight all the time. She would tell me things like, "No one could ever love a fat ass like you," or, "You'll end up alone if you don't lose weight."

When I was a freshman, a senior guy who I met in band developed a crush on me. My mom was so excited, and I'm pretty sure that she was the one who fell in love with him. 

She was pretty insistent that I give him a chance, even though I wasn't very comfortable with the idea because he creeped me out. She said, "He's the only man that's ever going to be interested in you. It's either him, or being alone forever." I didn't want to be alone, so I settled. We started dating. I graduated three years later, and we got married that summer. 

We were married for three years, and my depression got worse every single day. He was unsupportive and expected me to do everything, even though I often worked longer hours than he did. He decided that smoking weed and passing out on the couch was more important than pulling his weight. I never enjoyed sex, and I faked orgasms for six years. 

I finally got up the courage to ask for a divorce. He did not take it very well. He blamed all of our issues on me. When I told my mom about the divorce, she went insane. She told me that I would die alone if I went through with it. 

Fast forward to now: I've started dating the most amazing man who appreciates everything I do for him, but never expects it. I'm actually happy for once in my life. I've been happy for nearly a year now. 

Now I'm proving my mother wrong, every single day.
 

Ugly Cow

I was always very self confident. Up through my childhood and teenage years, I never really worried about my body. I loved myself, and I never quite understood those that didn't.

My best friend asked me to be her maid of honor during my freshman year of college. I said yes, and when the wedding weekend arrived, I was so excited I could barely contain myself. 

It wasn't the fun weekend I had anticipated though, because my friend started screaming and throwing tantrums about every little detail. I started to get frustrated, but I tried to be patient. I kept telling myself that getting married is an emotional time, and as soon as ceremony was over, she would be fine.

The time came for everyone to get dressed. I will never forget her yelling at me, "God, can you put some spandex on or something? That dress makes you look so freaking chubby. And put some concealer on your arms, and maybe some more on your face. It's bad. This is MY wedding and I don't want to look back and have an ugly cow in my pictures!"

I haven't talked to her since that day, and even though its been years, I still struggle with an eating disorder and constant self doubt. I loved her, and she was my best friend. I can't help but think maybe what she told me was right. Maybe I am just an ugly cow.
 

"At least they don't beat us."

One day I was complaining to my mother about something that my husband did or didn't do. My mother replied, "We should both be thankful for the husbands we have. At least they don't beat us."

In that moment I realized that that was my mother's goal for me. That I would find a man who wouldn't beat me. It didn't matter if he made me happy, if he helped provide a stable life for our family, or if he helped me grow as a person. All that mattered was that he didn't beat me.

I will never forget the day when I was told that little gem. 
 

"No one will find that attractive."

My style has always been a bit alternative. Even after having my daughter at 18, I kept my look. Pink and black hair, a tattoo (planned to get more), piercings (also planning for more), the works. I had a dream of becoming an alternative model, which I thought was the epitome of beautiful. When I was 19, I had a set plan. I was going to polish myself up a bit and send in some shots. 

My husband at the time told me I was crazy, and that, "No one's going to want to look at your half naked, post baby body. No one will find that attractive. I find it attractive because I love you." 

That hurt me so bad, I cried myself to sleep that night. 

I eventually divorced that ass, and now, eight years later, I've never been happier.
 

"You're not the same."

My daughter was born premature. Extremely premature. She weighed 1lb, 3oz, and was not supposed to survive. On top of that, I almost didn't survive either. I was hospitalized for months, I had an emergency C section, and I faced losing my daughter every day after that for months until she was stable enough.

And I went through it all without a comforting hand beside me. 

Throughout it all, I was being abused by my (now ex) husband. 

One day, while waiting for our daughter to be released from surgery, I confronted him. Why was he so cruel to me? Why did I deserve the pain? 

He looked me in the eyes and told me this one thing: "You're not the girl I fell in love with. You're not the same. You were so sweet and happy. And now you're bitter and hateful. The world darkened you, and you're not the same." 

That was why I deserved his abuse, which was the very thing that made me bitter. 

That was why I deserved being left alone to go through this ordeal, which was the very thing that darkened me.

It's been five years, and I now have depression and anxiety. I have a hard time with my relationships. I never know if I can trust the man I'm with, for numerous reasons. 

I'm the girl who apologizes for existing. 

He was right. I'm not the same.

Amazing

"You talk too much. No one cares." - My aunt, when I was 8.

"Who sings this? How about you leave it to them?" - My father, when I was 11.

"Your hair doesn't matter. No one is going to be looking at it with those thunder thighs in the picture. You'd be pretty if you'd just stop eating." - Also my dad, when I was 13.

"No one will ever be as amazing as you are." - My husband, frequently.