My mother is a deeply codependent bipolar basketcase with no boundaries, empathy, theory of mind, ability to emotionally self-regulate, ability to interpret social cues, or memory. I suspect frontotemporal degeneration, behavior variant. She's no longer the woman who raised me.

She insists on maintaining a relationship with me--and goes into hysterics if she thinks it's threatened--but makes no effort to meet my relationship needs, and acts resentful of me for having boundaries in the first place and refusing to protect her feelings by insulating her from her transgressions. It's like dealing with a spoiled, spiteful child.

She squawks incessantly about how much she loves me and wants to have contact with me--yet when I open up to her and share my authentic self, she resents and shames me for who and how I am. She's got some kind of pictures in mind as to what I should be and what our relationship should be--and if I violate those expectations she goes berzerk.

I'm an emotional hostage to someone incapable of meeting my relational needs.

I have a love-hate relationship with my mom. I know she loves me, but she has a tricky way of showing it - she can be very judgemental and critical and has a hard time relinquishing control. I grew up always second-guessing myself and never trusting my feelings, something that took me a very long time to understand.

My mother was a brilliant and wonderful woman. She had a profound influence on my development as a person.

I had two chances at relationships with mothers -my birth mother and the Narcissist that adopted me- and neither one was worth a hoot.

-The 'egg donor' mother gave me up for adoption. I tracked her down and contacted her 40yrs after my birth in an attempt to see if she would still reject me. She didn't disappoint. Surprise, surprise...I found out I had a full brother, full sister and a half sister with the full sister being the only one I was able to cobble a relationship together with. The donor curiously gave me up, reunited with the birth father four and six years later for children, but raised them. Well, she raised them as well as she had the capability to that is. I never met her.

-The Narcissist made my life a living hell...from age 15 to five hours before she died. My only purpose in life was to perform for her. When my mood disorder shot off into orbit in my mid-teens, I had no redeeming value in her estimation except for functioning as someone to berate and belittle. The same day she passed, before the hospice folks heroically stuck those fentanyl lollypops in her rattle-trap this 93yr old spent her final hours letting me how I deserved nothing because I tore my play trains up when I was 5yrs old. Yeah...nice gal.

As bad I had it having to dodge hurled household items and daily mental thrashings through the years, my sibs had it a little worse with one missing parent and one that could have given a shit less if they lived or died. I was a winner in that regard. My lifelong friends that witnessed the monumental dysfunction surrounding the Narcissist asked me if I would cry at her funeral. I thought for a minute and replied that I would never cry for her loss, but for what the relationship could never be.

My mother is deceased now, but she didn't have good relationships with anyone that I'm aware of. She was an overbearing person with undiagnosed bipolar disorder. She was controlling and manipulative and gradually abandoned caring for her family. I got along with her better when I reached adulthood, but only because I could walk away from her and not fall victim to her petty games anymore, so she had to deal with me on a more mature level if she wanted me to engage with her at all. Now that I've sufficiently torn her down, here's something good I can say about her: she took education seriously and made sure my sister and I did our homework every evening, and she made sure we we're corrected if we used improper grammar or mispronounced a word, etc., which I think has helped me in successfully communicating in academics and beyond.

My mother was an alcoholic bitch. She died when I was 20 and I'm really glad. Although I do kind of wish she had survived long enough for me to become pregnant because then maybe she would have gotten help and might not have been an alcoholic bitch anymore. But we'll never know.

This is a complicated topic. At this exact moment, though? I love my mom more than I can say. And I'm really lucky in that I like her, too. I was her "problem child," but if that hadn't been the case, I truly believe we wouldn't be as close as we are now.

As to her impact on my character? She taught me strength, persistence, and gave me my work ethic. I love her too much to share the negative stuff.

Holy crap. This is way too long of a story to type out...

My dad is a grade A piece of shit so my mother was a single parent... she had anger issues (her mom beat her as a kid) and lack of patience so I got hit a lot as a kid and I would push her buttons... there was a few times that she hurt me so bad, physically and emotionally that I will never forget... they are now emotional scars... regardless... We have both been through a lot and ironically my mother went to college and got her masters degree in spiritual psychology and graduated Cum Laude (she learned so much about herself and taught me so much along the way)... At about the age of 13 I started standing up to her and for my brother and eventually she stopped... it took many years to heal our relationship and I enjoy our relationship much more now that we are both older, more calm and don't live with each other. I visit my mother once a week and she is my best friend. I know there is a gap of information there but I really don't want to type it all out lol. She is the reason who I am though and we do look alike... I love her dearly and I know one day I will have to live without her and I don't want to think of that day... I am scared to face the reality of that day...

It’s long and complicated. She was there for me when no one else was. She showed me the way in education. As a single mother, she took care of us all while my father steeped himself in alcohol. She worked herself to the bone for us without asking for one thing in return.
She and I were very close. My brothers relationship with her was frought with antipathy.

I have a wonderful mother.

Our relationship has always been difficult as she failed to protect me from emotional and physical harm as a child. But she has attempted to support me financially at various times, which has been a big help. I don't think she'll ever understand me properly, but she doesn't have the power to leave me in harm's way anymore either, so that's ok. Plus the whole God thing is a pain, especially given the love of mamon, food and alcohol that occurs in the parental home, but hey let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that!
On my character, she's made me not want to be walked over, I've learnt that I have to look after myself and can't count on other people, (although I do have a few good friends that broke the mould). I always try to stand up for others who are getting unfairly treated, for better or for worse, so the typical generation gap turnaround thing.

She was my best friend.

I had a wonderful mother but she was an alcholic, my parents divorece and I want to live with my dad when I was 9 so that should tell you a lot. I have 3 older sisters, the two oldest stayed with her and I was the youngest. So every visit she was reminded that her baby was not with her and that would drive her to drink so needless to say it was a complicated relationship.
When she got older she got sober and found god, or at least god became a lot more importaint, and I have always been an atheist, so there's that. But we were close because I was the baby and the only boy and tech support and mr. fix it when ever I visited, which was not teribly often since I almost always lived far away.
She was a heavy smoker so not in the best of health. She developed emphsema and slowly died over a period of 5 years, she was a shell when she finally gave up. I resented the fact that she gave up living, especially since I had finally become a father and my daughter was only one so she really didn't get to know her.
But I attribute most of my good characteristics to her and fortunately I didn't take up either of her vices, but I think my slight hording problem comes from her. Throwing things away is hard.

I had a great relationship with both my parents. They were not micromanagers. All my glorious shortcomings are due to my own creativity!

My mother is dead, plus she did not speak English. She was tiny, strong, passionate and quick with the woden spoon. I had a fiery relationship with her, but she had my back when I screwed up. She was a French trained cook and could cook a wonderful meal with bones and greens from the woods. Some years ago, I saw Julia Child cooking with sorrel on TV, and I realized that mama woud send us outside to look for sorrel in the pasture. She was the one who started my love for language and learning, telling us German fairy teales every night before sleep. And when I was five and could read, she bought me a childrens' book once a month and brought the newspaper into the house.

My mother is toxic. She grew up in a fucked up household and has had EXTREME control issues and therefore almost no boundaries for pretty much her entire life. Because of this I have an amazingly visceral negative reaction to controlling women. Not nearly as bad as I used to be. She was also raped by her brother when she was a teenager so like many victims of sexual abuse she has an overdeveloped sense of betrayal. This caused her to drive away every friend she's ever had. To avoid dealing with her own shit she obsesses about other's issues. She was a guidance school counselor. Fucked up right? Because of all this I shut down emotionally around her; she can't be trusted with hardly any personal information. She also spends money like a drunken sailor. Because she obsesses about other's issues she forced me to address my emotional development which in a twisted way put me on the path to work on my own emotional health.

Terrible. She was a narcissist and left lasting scars on my psyche.

My mother is a strong woman..Raising two kids on her own was certainly a pain in the ass and I know I wasn't always easy to manage...However there's a reason I moved out when I was 15.

Strained, many could say she is an awesome mother to 2 of her 4 children.
Made me look more closely at pepole, see through the fascade and find their true motivation.

Complicated

Well, my last word to my mom was "Get the fuck out of here"..... Wait, wait ( don't jump to conclusions just yet). I was on a business trip in the area so I went to see her. We had a great time. Sunday night on my way out (Had to drive out of town to catch a flight next day) I was saying goodbye when she said "Give me a hug" and that's when I said "Get the fuck out of here"... I have always been the rebel, all my siblings are too religious and respectful so my mom LOVED my irreverent ways. It was an inside joke between us. Little did I know, those were my last words to her.. she had a heart attack two days later.... Its been 14 years and still believe she passed happy because we got to see each other one last time

Mom is a wonderful loving woman. My siblings and I had a good childhood and knew we were loved. Mom would always be on our side but did not shy away from teaching us if we needed it. However teaching was always done in a soft way, sometimes too soft. If she has a flaw that would be it. She avoids difficult decisions and choices, always taking the path of least difficulty for self. Now that I am older and no longer Christian ( she is Christian) I see how immature she can be at times. That is what it seems to be, immaturity. That and being a person who reasons based more on emotion than logic and evidence. Sometimes her immaturity is very very irritating and I have to leave the room in order not to offend her or make her feel bad. At this point in her life she is not going to change her mind on deeply held beliefs so I don't want to cause her any pain or discomfort in her final years.

She taught me how I did not want to see the world like she does

My mother was far from perfect. I try to appreciate the good and forgive the bad. I hope that I was a better parent than my own, but it is a very difficult job and their father had a big impact on what I was able to do. I have to say that I am saddened by the lack of compassion of many of these posts. Parenting is difficult.