Ohmygosh....

After reading these replies, I can't help to feel as though my issues are quite petty in comparison, (surely no offense to anyone). It's just, there was no physical abuse of any kind, whatsoever.

Coming from a family of 10 siblings, dad successfully dedicated to working, and mom, the disciplinarian, remained home raising the army, I can perfectly understand how fatigued and limited mom was.

Like your mom, Vickie, she wasn't one to express any kind of love. In fact, in her youth she was forced to raise her own parents, who were extremely disfunctional, and her younger sister, whom she sacraficed her own well being for and devoted her efforts of getting her sister out of that domestic hell, which, by their early teens, she succeed at doing.

Neither mom or dad were verbally abusive. However, the only time mom attended to us individually was through yelling, but never swearing. The worst name she called any of us was "you miserable young one", as she's chasing us, though never successful at catching any of us. (It was much like being in a pen of 10 slippery lil piglets....Good luck catching any of them, if you don't exhaust yourself in the process).

Mom was generally a extremely unhappy person. Brilliant with a very high intellect. She was a walking dictionary. The only puzzles she enjoied doing were the "master crosswords", leaving all the other puzzles blank in the book, handing them down to me for my pleasure, (besides mom, I was the only other who enjoied puzzles).
A very noble and honest person. Avid reader. She loated lying. Despite of all her strengths, though, she seriously lacked expressing love. She was never taught how to. She never received, herself.
Throughtout all of our upbringing, we never witness mom & dad expressing love to eachother in any way. Absolutely no touching eachother, not even a quick peck on the cheek....nothing....especially never hearing any "I love you's".

I understand that mom had a rough childhood. And that she was never allowed to BE a child. With that reality, she grew up harboring great resentments and confusions. Unable to express praise of any kind to any of us.
After the birth of the 5th child, she realized that she wanted out of the marriage. Back then, however, divorce was uncommon, especially within the "catholic" comminity. Over the course of the years following, another 5 were born.

For some reason, though, it seemed that I became the target of mom's frustrations (?). (I don't know if it's fair of me to say it were frustrations). All I do know is that, from the age of 3, mom used to tell me that I was "different", (used to tell me that I heard voices in my head). LOL. In retrospect, HOW could she have known what I heard in MY head. Regardless, point being is that I became her target all throughout my youth, (and even up until her death).

During my alot of my years, mom's means of dealing with my "issues" was to sit me in the livingroom opposing all of my siblings, (they were my jury, so to speak, with mom as the judge, I suppose, as I sat on the "stand").
She would ask each of my siblings to offer to express one thing they felt was "wrong" with me, which would lead into a half hour discussion (for each opinion) as to how to "fix" me.
I would sit there, at first, listen to the best of my ability, until after the first 5 minutes...lol..tune it out completely. (If there was one thing mom & dad taught me well, was how to tune out, and then abandon an issue entirely). Until someone would complain about how I wasn't cooperating with the "trial"....eventually only lead to my becoming overloaded, resulting in my getting up and leaving.
THAT is what alot of my childhood was like.

I wasn't unrully. I wasn't a problem child. I admit, I was overly-curious. And because I couldn't receive answers from my parents (their means of guidance was ONLY the infamous, "don't"), for what curiosity stirred within me, I sought the answers elsewhere.
By the age of 15, mom kicked me out for the 3rd and final time. I remained gone. Moved in with who was the most convenient at that time, and, although I was already into the drug scene, (my role modles of 5 older brothers who lived for smoking pot), it didn't take me long to dive into the heavier drugs, (although never heroine or needles....ewwwww. I have a paranoia of needles, which is ONLY what saved me from those means of use).
My years following, I dove into a means of behavior that, I now feel was possibly my seeking the acceptance I never received from (mostly) mom....(again, as you've so well described, Vickie, as), the only person who is suppposed to love me the most.
I tried every and anything, seeking acceptance in individuals (incapable of providing), and through situations that, normally I would have never considered doing. Enduring situations that should have killed me, but, for some reason, survived many times over.
I have to admit, there was one thing mom said to me in my adulthood that, I think, was a compliment....in her own way....that she admired how I survived all those many situations that most would have succumed to long ago. Ummm....Thanks, mom?

I don't blame mom. I understand her. I understand that she had a childhood FAR worse than mine ever was, and that she did the best she could with what she knew....at that time.
I don't think I harbor any anger toward her. I think the child in me merely longs for that maternal bond that I never received?

There is ONE great benefit to how I was raised, however. I have learned from what I didn't receive is exactly what I provide to my own daughter. My loss is her gain. From birth, I made the point of showering her with as many "I love you's", and an abundance of physical bonding I can possibly offer....without smothering her, of course...lol.
What mom couldn't teach me was actually a great lesson learned.

Just would have been nice....to have received an "atta girl"...just once. Ah well.

LOL...I'm babbling. My apologies.

Ehh...........Thanks for tolerating me.

Shangrala