Almost every time we spoke, we argued — nothing I did seemed to please her. She didn’t like the person I was dating (which, in hindsight was fair). She didn’t like the activities I engaged in. And she didn’t like that I stopped attending the church I grew up in. The friction felt unbearable and the basis of my frustration was that I felt my mom wanted me to be like her. In one heated argument, I remember shouting, “You just want me to be like you. I’m not YOU!"
“You just want me to be like you.”
