It's reassuring (and depressing) to know that others have been affected by this, and I sympathise with all of you. I'm 36 and my mother has never told me she loves me or is proud of me, has never hugged or kissed me. She has always veered between cold, emotionless detachment and downright cruelty. She never spoke to me about periods or sex, and I was sixteen before she begrudgingly offered to take me shopping for a bra. I was constantly told my hair was a mess, I was spotty, I wasn't sitting right, eating right, walking right. Never a kind word. It was draining. I was bullied at school almost to the point of suicide and again, would never have dared tell her, because I knew I would somehow be blamed. We never spoke about anything except very surface level things, anything involving any kind of emotion or feeling wouldn't have been entertained, so I learned not to bother.
I vividly remember, once, as a tearful thirteen year old, asking Dad why Mum didn't love me. He went downstairs and told her, and I could hear her laughing. I'll remember that for the rest of my life. If my own children ever doubted my love for them I'd be devastated, but she didn't even care enough to walk upstairs and comfort me.
It has affected me hugely. My self confidence has always been cripplingly low, and I really struggle to vocalise my own feelings. I have no real friends, just acquaintances, and I married the first person who asked, simply because I thought I would never do any better and I was desperate for someone to love me. Sometimes I hear myself starting to speak to my own daughters in her voice, and I have to give myself a shake.
I used to work for an estate agent and can vividly remember a twenty something woman showing her Mum around a house she had just had an offer accepted on. Her lovely Mum kept telling her how proud she was and how she couldn't wait to come round for coffee. I had to excuse myself to the loo to compose myself because it was making me really tearful.