Sorry for the long post, but I guess I just need to get this off my chest. After reflecting on my life, I've been noticing something about my parents. I don't know if I'm just paranoid or what, but I've been questioning my parent's love lately (mainly my mom's). Even at an early age of about 6 or 7, it felt like something was missing from them. Considering that I was a sensitive but simple kid at the time, it felt really weird when even the hugs felt empty: There was no emotional warmth no matter how many hugs they gave me. Even in everything else, I felt emptiness: The food they cooked for me (even the sweet potato pie), the time we've spent together (though it was mainly just playing video games and watching anime with dad and traveling and shopping with mom). I even asked them at one point if I was adopted (I never had the right words to express concern at the time, that was all I could come up with).

Fast forward to age 15, mom was sighing about going to an event with her coworkers. I asked her why she didn't go and she replied "I can't stand kids." That alone set off an alarm in my head. She later added "except you", but she wasn't one to make an error in a sentence and not fix it immediately. I knew she was talking about the age range of 3 to whatever, but what made me any different? Was it just the fact that I was her child? Because I recalled getting into trouble for stuff like talking back and forgetting my homework (though not often), so I couldn't have been good enough.

Then...there were the times she got stressed out about her job in the army. Keep in mind that she had this job for about 16 years at the time, has had nothing but desk jobs and never fought on the field, and probably dealt with annoying coworkers before. How on earth can she still complain about it, especially when she took the job, fully knowing what she was getting herself into, and accepted all of the extra and optional aspects of it to get more money?! No workplace is free from goofball coworker, and yet she had the nerve to be hot and cold with me: verbally lashing out at me for something that's not my fault in one moment, and then talking to me as if I should be her therapist/pet cat the next. And then what happens 2 years later? She goes back to how she normally acts as if nothing happened! So not only do I not feel the love, but I ended up with feeling plenty of resentment for her. I tried talking to her at one point during her little sequence of ranting sessions, but that just made the cycle continue even after she apologized. All it took was to move from Germany back to the US to get her to (mostly) shut up. Then another thought occurred to me: Other than through physical pain and stress, I've never seen her vulnerable. I've never even seen her cry. Even though I've never seen dad cry either, I found out he went to grandpa's funeral and cried there. This means that I at least know that my dad has a softer side to him though he can still be stubborn and sometimes even abrasive. But what about mom?

Fast forward to when I was 17 and was trying to drive. The main problem was the car of (her) choice: A freaking 2005 Crysler 300! But enough of that-I was horrible when it came to left turns and the road we practiced on wasn't empty. I was pretty nervous when trying to make that turn which clouded my sense of distance. When I turned, I thought I stepped on the gas pedal too hard and tried to make sure I didn't hit the sidewalk when entering the parking lot. When I stopped the car, it turned out that the car wasn't completely off the road. Mom pointed out that there was a truck on that road heading in our direction, and I panicked, quickly stepping on the gas pedal and parked somewhere in the lot to go through what was probably my first panic attack. It was so bad that I even ended up crying. All she mainly did was tell me to calm down, there was no reassurance and no motivation...just a couple of sentences before continuing the driving lesson. After that experience I begged her to let me take driver's ED-I didn't even pay attention to the law at the time, but thankfully the state law said taking the class was mandatory. When I first had my driving experience with the instructor, I drove a Honda Civic and I was doing well with much less panicking and no tears. However, one part of the whole dilemma perplexes me: Me of all people feeling more comfortable around strangers than my own parents? Me, the kid that wanted to live in seclusion because of the horror that was 5th grade to middle school almost losing complete faith in humanity?

It just feels that the older I get, the more we drift apart somehow. Though I'm grateful for her paying my car and phone bills as well as anything that both of my parents have done in my life, it just seems that anything involving money is the only thing they've really done for me with nothing emotional to savor and cherish.

Is there any advice? Am I just overreacting, paranoid, reading into this too deeply, confused, or a combination of the four, or is there actually something wrong?