My mother and I were never close. From as far back as I can remember she was cold to me. I don't ever remember her comforting me. I cut my arm very badly by accident and was suprised when she brought me to the hospital instead of ignoring it. I still remember sitting in the car as my mother drove to the hospital and being relieved that she wasn't yelling at me or blaming me for getting hurt. Maybe because of how bad it looked. I don't know. But that is the only time I recall her trying to help me. It used to hurt when I thought about that. About my mother not loving me or caring for me. As I got older it dawned on me. That was all she had to offer. It wasn't like she was holding back. How she interacted with me was all she could do. There was nothing there and it had nothing to do with me. It was her issue not mine. Yes it hurt but she was emotionally incapable of offering more. There just wasn't anything there. There still isn't. And she doesn't see it because for her it doesn't exist.