I've had problems with my mother since I was young, before I was even a teenager. I'm not even sure what causes it, whether its personality differences or just a clashing of two people who are always in the same house, but its always been there. In the worse times, it usually ended up as a shouting match, and me stomping off to my room trying to hide the fact that I was already crying. There could probably be a million psycological deductions made from my stories of my mother. It would mostly have to do with the fact that I never felt I was good enough for her, no matter what I did. I had varied reactions to that. In school, depending on the subject I either worked harder or slacked off. When it came to other things, I notably rebelled. Which of course only makes things worse. Things got a little better as I got older though. I finally got through to her about one thing; I didn't like her micro-managing my life. It drives me crazy. And it worked for awhile. She let me have the freedom I so desperately desired, and the shouting matches all but ceased by my senior year of high school. And then I went to college, where finally I was free of her. But not totally. Cause I went to her alma mater, and there are a lot of people, especially professors who know her. And somehow whatever influence she's had on my life is one that can't be ignored. But still, things got better, kinda an absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder effect. I think. Except for one thing. Whenever I come home for anything longer than a weekend, we always pick up where we left off. Even this summer, when I've been gone half the summer so far at camp, and leaving again for another 3 weeks tomorrow, things have been tense. Usually it stems from the same old issues. Her bugging me about the way I handle my money, about trying to get a job, about getting home late with my little brother (we were just at my aunt's house watching TV) when he had a class the next morning ("oh, he didn't tell you? you couldn't read my mind? well I'm still going to blame you for not knowing"), even blaming me for not knowing the ins and outs of an area that I don't know well and a gas station that I'd never been to before. And my weight, always my weight. Just once I'd like to hear her say that she's okay with the way I look if I am. I don't try to pretend I'm something I'm not, if I can help it. I don't even really know where I'm going with all this. I've asked God to give me some way to handle this, to finally resolve it, to get the poison out of the wound. But somehow I can never quite hear the answer, if there is one. I just know that its one of those areas in my life that I've discovered is not quite as sewn up as it seemed when I first left for college. Amazing what God can do to your life just to make you realize that He is the only answer to anything. Now if only I could figure out what answer he has for this situation...