A Mother’s Hatred By Fola A Adriel

​A Mother’s Hatred

By Fola A Adriel

There is a kind of pain people rarely speak about openly, the pain of feeling unwanted by the very person who brought you into the world.

Society teaches us that mothers are naturally soft, protective, and loving. So when a child grows up feeling rejected, criticized, abandoned, or emotionally unsafe around their mother, they often carry the burden in silence. Not because the pain is small, but because the world struggles to believe it exists.

A mother’s hatred does not always look like screaming or violence. Sometimes it hides in comparison. In constant criticism. In emotional neglect. In withholding affection. In choosing everyone else first. In making a child feel like they must earn love instead of receiving it freely.

Children raised in such environments often grow into adults who overthink everything. Adults who apologize too much. Adults who struggle to feel worthy even when they are successful. They become people who crave love deeply but fear it at the same time.

The wounds are invisible, yet they shape everything.

Some daughters spend years trying to become “good enough” for a mother who has already decided not to see them clearly. They achieve more, stay quieter, become more responsible, more accommodating ,hoping one day they will finally receive tenderness. But love that is conditional keeps moving the finish line.

And still, many survive.

They become strong, though strength was forced upon them too early. They learn how to comfort themselves. They become their own safe place. They build families, friendships, careers, and lives from the broken pieces they were handed.

Healing from a mother’s hatred is complicated because grief becomes confusing when the person who hurt you is also the person you wished would love you the most.

But healing is possible.

Healing begins when you stop blaming yourself for someone else’s inability to love correctly. It begins when you realize that another person’s bitterness should not become your identity. It begins when you stop begging for warmth from people committed to coldness.

You are not difficult to love because someone struggled to love you.

You are not less valuable because your pain was ignored.

And you are not required to carry hatred forward simply because it was handed to you.

Some people become softer because of what they endured. They choose kindness where they once received cruelty. They choose understanding where they once received rejection. They become the safe space they never had.

That is courage.

Not every mother knows how to nurture. Not every home feels safe. But your story does not have to end where the pain began.

Sometimes the greatest act of healing is choosing not to become what hurt you.