Having a complicated relationship with your mum is so confusing. It's the knowledge that she taught me the best way to make gravy, how tie my shoes and how to make my bed. But she's also the one that made disparaging comments about my body growing up and is part of the reason I don't want to be a parent myself and why I moved across the country for uni. But she's still my mum and I still find myself wishing I could seek comfort from her when things get a little too hard but the mum I'm longing for doesn't really exist. And I see her in the colour of my eyes and in the way I grit my teeth when I'm angry. She taught me how to do my hair and how to cover up bruises. She's a part of me in all the good and the bad. And there's no way to say you hate someone that doesn't also acknowledge all the good because nothings as ever as black and white as that
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