I’ve been back home for about five days, and it’s happened again, the deep pain my mom has caused me since I was a child. Her temper is like a bomb, and when it explodes, nothing and no one matters more than herself.

Earlier today, I thought about checking out a nearby gym, and when the staff mentioned I could share the membership with someone, my first instinct was to invite my mom to do yoga with me. I wanted to connect, to spend time together in a way that felt positive.

But after dinner, a small argument spiraled into something bigger. She decided to leave and head back to her apartment, her safe place. Over the years, her temper has pushed everyone in the family away, and the solution has been to keep her distant, living alone, far enough to avoid the conflict but close enough to remain in touch. I offered to walk her to the bus station, hoping to bridge the gap somehow.

The walk was silent. I tried to stay close, but her mood created a wall I couldn’t cross. She told me to leave, but I followed her, watching her walk away without trying to say anything nice to me. My heart broke. Why can’t we be the kind of mother and daughter who can share our hearts, laugh, and cry together?

I decided to follow her all the way. At the bus station, I stood silently beside her, longing for something, anything, to break the ice. But she didn’t want to talk. I stood there like a stranger, waiting for the bus alongside her. I know I’m supposed to forgive, to love her, to understand her. And I do, I don’t hate her. I understand her pain and her struggles. But my heart feels too shattered to simply love her back. Beneath it all, there’s anger, anger I thought I had left behind.

I used to live in that anger every single day, hating her so much that I once tried to end my own life. It was my aunt who intervened, saving me and giving me a safe space to heal. Since then, I’ve kept my distance, living apart from my mom and running away from the hurt.

But tonight, the scars from the past reopened, and the pain felt just as raw as when I was a child. I want to scream, to cry, to let it all out. But instead, a heavy hopelessness fills my heart, making me wish the Lord can take me now. The darkness within frightens me. I hate feeling this way.

In the midst of it all, I remembered to call out to the Lord, asking Him to guard my heart. And I think He heard me. Despite the turmoil, there’s a power holding me back, stopping me from being completely consumed by the pain. It’s why the tears don’t flow as freely as I expect them to.

Oh Lord, see me and hear my cry.