Whenever I say mommy issues people tend to think I hate my mom. Hate is easy, and boring. I love my mom, more than anyone in the world. Sometimes even more than myself. Which is much more complicated.

The more I interrogate the reasons why I do the things I do, the more I realize how my deep need for validation (my therapist’s words not mine) comes simply from wanting to make and keep my mother happy.

Anyways, essay teasing this out a bit more coming to an inbox near you xo