The bond between mother and daughter is one that cannot be broken–even if it already is.
Many assume that this “bond” is naturally occurring, completely safe from the tumultuous and emotional existence that accompanies being human. But the reality is this: the connection between a daughter and the woman who gave her life can only be as resilient and healthy as each woman herself is.
It has been a fairly recent discovery of mine that my mother struggled with depression, anxiety, and avoidant personality disorder throughout the course of my childhood, teenage years, and even now into my adulthood. Sadly, I lived for many years wondering why I felt such a deep sense of dissatisfaction with the way our relationship operated–I just assumed that since I was one-half of the relationship, I was probably partially to blame.
I wish I could pinpoint specific instances throughout my childhood where I recognized her often emotionally-erratic behavior, but I simply wasn’t able to understand the psychology behind it until I was a little older. However, in my middle school and high school days, it would go like this:
The car radio would be turned up to tune out my abhorrent behavior, her door would be slammed to avoid any semblance of real conversation, a perfectly constructed one-liner would present itself as a kick to my guts before I heard her stomp off. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she’d afterward creep into the living room where I sat, or my bedroom as I pretended to sleep, and kiss me on the head.
Back then, I thought that she just didn’t care enough to talk to me about my feelings; now I understand that it was something much more complex and difficult to grasp than that–something even she couldn’t understand. This was the hardest part of our interactions–wanting so badly to give in, to embrace her, to make her feel better, but also being sad, hurt, and fearful of it all the same.
Thankfully, with the help of therapy and an incalculable amount of time spent in self-reflection, I know that no matter where my mother’s emotional interactions with me stem from, I don’t want to continue the pattern. More importantly, I have clarity on many things: I have realized that while her actions hurt me, they have also shaped me immensely, and I am proud of who I’ve become. I understand that just as our strained relationship was not my fault, it was also not hers–she was battling a disorder, and doing that is harder than anyone can imagine. Ultimately, I know that my mom loves me and I love her, and that will never change.
Here are three affirmations that have helped me cope, heal, and grow as a young woman with a mother who has battled with avoidant personality disorder:


