I am an only child, raised by my mum who was a single parent from early on. I have long known that she suffered depression when I was growing up, without receiving much treatment as far as I know. Now, in her 70s, she is a very loving person and we generally have a good relationship but I find her difficult at times. She is still prone to low mood and irritability, but I know I have made things worse at times by snapping at her and sometimes arguing with her, which she finds impossible.
I would love to talk more about my childhood with her, in part because I think her anxiety and depression affected me profoundly, but she would interpret this as criticism and find it very difficult, so I have never really tried. She is not someone who talks about her feelings easily. In recent years I have found our relationship more strained and this may in part because I have complex feelings about her incapacity to acknowledge that her depression might have affected me growing up. Any attempts on my part to think about this with her have upset her very badly.
So, a few days ago I was staying at her house and came across a pile of old letters she had written to a friend, spanning the period from my birth to age about 20. I didn't dig them out - I knew she had them because she had mentioned them, and they were in an open box on the floor of a bedroom. I picked one up out of curiosity and read through maybe 25 or 30 of them at random.
I was struck by how very low she seemed and often anxious. She is obviously opening her heart to this friend and generally they are depressed in tone. What really struck me though - selfishly - is that there is almost nothing positive about me in them. From birth to adulthood, I am mentioned almost exclusively as a source of stress or worry - whether it's financial, or worry about my behaviour, or that we are not getting on well. Not just worried about me, but usually finding me difficult, feeling happy when I go away for a bit, etc. I feel desperately sad about this. I had always believed that I was a big source of joy in her life! Now I'm not so sure. I also feel very sad for her that she felt so bad, and sad for the child I was who grew up with a depressed mum and has in consequence always felt guilty and responsible for her (mum's) emotions. In adulthood, I know they are not my responsibility but I want to protect her - and have an honest relationship with her if I can.
I feel I can't talk to her about this because it would be so difficult and upsetting for her (and me). So I am stuck feeling sad and angry and not able to do much about it.
So, AIBU? I know this is not AIBU, can't take anything too brutal! Obviously I should never have read them but I feel so sad about it and angry at her that she didn't write nice things about me! Childish I know... Tell me I'm being a selfish idiot, which I know is true I guess.
Sorry for the essay. (name changed btw.)